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Post by Bard "Dual-Strike" Alrikson on Apr 26, 2013 17:22:44 GMT -8
Night was falling. The cool air had shifted, the sky slowly turning from blue to inky black. With the end of the day came the sounds of the night. Hollows roared in the darkness. Stragglers from the recent invasion force, who risked sticking closer to the Rukongai for the sake of an easy meal. Since the attack, there had been many more than usual in the wilds of the Fourth District since the invasion force had broken rank and fled from the walls of the Seireitei: Far too many for the comfort of the denizens of the Rukongai.
That would have to be fixed.
A Lupine hollow pushed its way through the underbrush, sniffing the air. It was big, easily six feet at the shoulder, with dark purple fur and sharp spines jutting out from the ridge of its back. Its tail was whip-like and serpentine, and a viscous, glistening orange substance dripped from its fangs; likely a toxin of some sort. The beast paused beneath a tree, sniffing around the base. Something had caught its attention. It growled, hackles raising as it looked up.
There was a sharp twang of a bow, mingling with the whistle of a flying arrow which buried itself deeply in the monster's left eye socket, the broad steel head of the arrow ripping through gray matter and blood vessels. The beast dropped, jerking and thrashing as it died. A moment later, Sengoku dropped down out of the tree, sliding along the trunk. He held a strung recurve bow in his left hand. His axe was in its usual place, on his right hip, and on his left was a quiver of black fletched arrows. He placed his foot on the hollow's skull, and wrapped his hand around the arrow. With a sharp, twisting jerk, he ripped the arrow out of the beast's skull. He wiped away the blood and brains off on the monster's fur, and notched it in his bow. The Hollow was his fifth today, which made today a decent one for hunting.
He had just started to move on when the bushes behind him began rustling. He dropped into a crouch, turning in the direction of the sounds. He drew the bow back, the arms flexing as the muscles in his back drew on the string. He slowed his breathing, and waited.
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Post by Deleted on Apr 28, 2013 17:03:44 GMT -8
Devastation had rocked their land that day. Many lives had been lost. It was evident to Yoshiya that the political landscape of the Rukongai would be changed for a time. He needed to talk to the closest thing the citizens of the Rukongai had to a leader, Sengoku. A check of his tavern had revealed it closed for the night. Word on the street spoke of how Mihamaru and Fuji had fallen in the battle, and how the landlord had ran off to the fourth. That is why Yoshiya was now in the rubble. He had been forced to take down one beast on his way there, its innards adding to the blood of Behmoth on his cloak. He chuckled as he considered that he had finally made a kill, though a pang of regret overcame him. The day earlier had been a complete failure for him, though a success for his daughter. She may have thought she did nothing, but her actions were marvellous. The enemy had left the district, and they were both alive. Thank The Awareness, they were alive. Though for Yoshiya, a failure. He still did not know why the attack had came. What reason drove the Hollow to attack Seireitei like that? It was still a mystery. That afternoon he had surveyed the battlefields closer to the walls. Bodies were strewn about there, the funerals were still ongoing, though the Hollows were just burned. That was not what he was interested in. The dead were dead, though at the time the old adage that 'one death was a tragedy, a thousand were a statistic' sprung to his mind. No, his interest lay with the farmlands. The damage was substantial. Though the Hollows had appeared to ignore them, as they had the Third, that many bodies inevitably caused a fair damage. Whilst it would mean Yoshiya would have employment, it could mean that the Rukons and Shinigami would have a hungry winter before them. Whilst the Second District had suffered a direct attack, the trees were expendable; they had plenty of those around. If it were not for the houses there, the greatest damage would have been aesthetic. Yoshiya trudged through the ruins of the outer rim, seeking out Sengoku, until he heard a twang of a bow, and a ripping noise, like death, from behind some bushes. Could that have been him? Yoshiya gathered his cloak around him, and forced himself through the foliage, his staff leading the way.
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Post by Bard "Dual-Strike" Alrikson on Apr 28, 2013 18:26:30 GMT -8
There was a gift in the suffering: Sengoku's desire for revenge had granted him patience. Patience made it possible for Sengoku to find a place along a hollow's trail, and wait. Patience allowed him to read the signs, see where they were going, where they had been. Patience locked him into this position as he waited for his potential enemy to appear. Finally, the brush parted, and Watson appeared. Sengoku scowled and slowly eased the tension out of his bow. His eyes fixed Watson with a cold, calculating stare.
"You're far from home."
The statement was, perhaps, a bit harsh. Sengoku didn't put the arrow back in the quiver. Instead, he held it in the crook of his first two fingers, ready to be notched into the bowstring again. He rose from his crouch and rolled his shoulders. He wasn't certain his back had ever felt that particularly stiff before, and it made his frown deeper.
"What do you want?"
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Post by Deleted on Apr 28, 2013 19:00:04 GMT -8
"You're far from home."
The irony of the words struck Yoshiya.
"You're far from home."
So was the one speaking.
"You're far from home."
Sengoku's home was the tavern. Yoshiya...it could be said that he merely existed at his house. Though, that may not be the case since Kurai moved in, he mused.
"What do you want?"
Yoshiya turned sideways, and tugged his cloak, the hem coming free of the branch where it was snagged. That being done, he steadied his staff in the dirt, caught his breath and addressed the one who was pointing a readied arrow at him.
"I came to offer my condolences."
His voice was firm, yet filled with regret. Could he have prevented this incident? No. He doubted there was an easily accessible timeline where he could have averted this tragedy. His goal now was to cause one where such a thing never occurred again.
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Post by Bard "Dual-Strike" Alrikson on Apr 28, 2013 19:13:50 GMT -8
Condolences...Sengoku didn't want condolences. He wanted this to all be a nightmare. His tavern had been closed off since the invasion, but Sengoku would have given anything to simply be there again, going about his business. He missed Fuji's laughter, missed Mihamaru's constant snark and sas, even if it did get on his nerves from time to time. He'd never thought he could miss people he barely knew so much.
"No one comes roaming out into the hollow infested borderlands to give condolences." Sengoku was clearly not in a mood to deal with niceties. His face seem locked in a permanent scowel, making the lines on his forehead and framing his mouth much more pronounced. It made him look grim and unpleasant, nothing like the stern, but friendly, barman most in the Rukongai knew.
"I have business here, and I'm not feeling particularly patient anymore. Tell me what you want, or get lost." He could hear more howling in the distance, more hollows to be put down, more beasts to slay. More retribution to dole out.
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Post by Deleted on Apr 28, 2013 19:53:06 GMT -8
Yoshiya allowed himself to gaze upon the face of Sengoku, and it shocked him. The barman was lost in his own rage. Yoshiya's estimate on his probability to release that arrow rose. If only he didn't have a child to go back to.
He gazed deep into Sengoku's eyes and spoke.
"I want to know why this attack happened. What drove the Hollows to attack en-masse? Why did they come like they did? Why did they ignore the Third District? And most of all, how can we stop such an attack ever happening again?"
He paused for a moment, voice softening.
"And I came to you because I want to reclaim the fourth. You are the closest thing we have to a leader Sengoku."
He closed his eyes, anticipating the sensation of an arrow piercing his body.
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Post by Bard "Dual-Strike" Alrikson on Apr 29, 2013 4:53:44 GMT -8
Watson was wasting Sengoku's time, just like he knew the man would. "They attacked because they were driven to it." he said, his voice rough from lack of use. "I was at the wall, just outside the Seireitei. There was some sort of leadership, a thing I couldn't recognize." The lie came easy. Sengoku knew what the thing had been: a scared little rukon boy taken from his family and forced to serve a hollow cause. And Sengoku had put an axe in his face.
"I'm no one's leader. The idea that we could retake the fourth was a fool's dream." They would never achieve it without help from the Shinigami, and if the Reapers hadn't done it yet, then they obviously didn't want to. In Sengoku's mind, it all came down to that: The Shinigami had no desire to do what had to be done. As long as the First and Second Districts were safe, the rest could burn for all those sword wielding bastards cared. "The hollows hold the Fourth, and they always will."
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Post by Deleted on Apr 29, 2013 6:10:24 GMT -8
No arrow came, just the sharp words of his voice. Word of a leadership was news to Yoshiya, it would be something that required investigation, though he feared Sengoku wasn't in the mood for explaining further. A botherment, he would have to seek answers elsewhere.
He could pass on his thoughts as if toying with the idea, seeing it as foolishness. Perhaps it was, but it may plant a seed in the other Rukon's mind.
"Heh. Not as foolish as my idea." He looked beyond Sengoku, into the wastes. "I had this notion that if we could figure out why the Hollow kept attacking us, we could..."
No, it was sounding even more foolish now that he was about to say it. Perhaps it was even offensive, given that Sengoku had lost two people to the Hollows that day. He turned to him and spoke it slowly, annoyance in his voice, though his annoyance was at the cards fate had played the Rukongai, not either of the two individuals standing there.
"I thought we could make peace with them. It seems better than feeding those idiots in the white city to not do their jobs."
His thoughts turned to the ruined fields. They'd have a harsh winter ahead of them.
"Anyway, I've wasted enough of your time, apologies for the disturbance."
And with that Yoshiya turned to walk away, despairing in the loss of Sengoku's dream as he strolled back home.
"The idea that we could retake the fourth was a fool's dream."
"The hollows hold the Fourth, and they always will."
The Fourth. Retake. Hollows hold.
Perhaps the Rukons were doomed.
Fourth. Fool's dream. No leader.
"Wait a second..."
He had taken but a few paces away when he turned around to face Sengoku again.
"What are you doing here, anyway?" he asked, inquisitively.
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Post by Bard "Dual-Strike" Alrikson on Apr 29, 2013 6:52:33 GMT -8
As Watson apparently gave up and started on his way back, Sengoku removed two more arrows from his quiver. He had a feeling he was going to need them soon, and wanted to be able to reload as quickly as possible. Make peace with the hollows? Blood thirsty, flesh eating savages? not a chance. They'd have a better chance of asking the Seasons to flow in reverse. Watson was just another desperate man looking for a solution that didn't exist.
Then came the next question: Why WAS Sengoku out here? He pondered the answer for a moment, and it came to him quickly enough. A fierce, bloody grin spread across his face, a mocking, fun house mirror image of the once good-natured tavern owner. It was cold, ruthless, nothing fine or pleasant about it.
"Killing hollows is the only thing that feels good anymore. Carving into them with my axe, filling them with arrows...to me, it's become the greatest feeling in the world."
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Post by Deleted on Apr 29, 2013 13:05:05 GMT -8
He wasn't going to get anywhere with this man, and he had done what he could. He had finished his mission. Yoshiya shrugged at his answer. " Sengoku, if any Hollow gives you any information, would you mind relaying it back to me? And, I am sorry." With that Yoshiya continued his exit, leaving the barman alone with his rage and his prey. Mentally the cloaked one discarded a card. [ EXIT]
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Post by Bard "Dual-Strike" Alrikson on Apr 29, 2013 18:15:05 GMT -8
And just like that, the abrupt interruption to Sengoku's vendetta was done. He glared at the back of Watson's head as the man left. Peace with the hollows...what a joke. He snorted and turned away, trying to figure out where the nearest sound of howling was coming from. "Safe travels." He grunted, perhaps the most polite parting that could have been achieved. Sengoku turned his head to the east, a sudden howling capturing his attention. It sounded big, and big meant dangerous. Big meant a challenge. He had all night to hunt, all night to prepare. It was just a matter of finding the damn thing.
He started off heading straight for the sound, mindful of his surroundings and where he was placing his feet. He moved as silently and carefully as he could, trying to stay down wind if he could help it. His efforts brought him in a wide circle around the source of his target, and by the time he found the first signs, the beast had already moved on.
Sengoku knelt in the dirt, examining the foot prints before him. They were definitely a hollow's, but judging from the size, it likely wasn't very large. Just loud then. He could work with loud. The soft, dark earth was good for tracking, and the rising moon cast the prints in a shadow that made them easier to spot; their outlines stood out. He was able to follow them for a bit, and partially drew back his bow, notching a single arrow and holding on to the others in his hand. The night's hunt was just beginning.
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Post by Deleted on May 4, 2013 10:22:18 GMT -8
Foul moods abound in the whole of Soul Society - a bartender out of his bar, and a Taicho far removed from his point of service, if anybody could even call him such a thing anymore. Kiba had packed his meager belongings long ago, shoveled them into a cart along with a healthy sampling of his carvings from the nearly rundown workshop he maintained in the Seireitei, and had left that damned city far behind. That cart he had deposited in a building he'd erected long ago in the third, a shack that would see improvements in the coming days, and so for now, in the blasted Borderlands, there was a man in black robes, no longer a Taicho nor even a Shinigami. Simply a man - and in his arms, howling in rage and anger not even nearly the equal to Kiba's own, the 'loud' Hollow Sengoku had taken to hunting.
Say what one could concerning Kiba's higher cognitive functions, wrong though they often were, it had to be given to the man that nearly better than any of his peers, he could hunt. The mighty former Taicho had been renown for his sharp sense of hearing, specifically the ability to put that sense of hearing to use in finding trouble at it's best, and exactly to that purpose had Kiba trundled into the lost Fourth District. The ape-like beast had almost seemed to be waiting for Kiba, and it's arms rippled with strength unexpected given it's honestly somewhat diminutive size - but strong it was, and it had Kiba in a lock-up position, each of their arms locked on the shoulders of the other. Of course, no Hollow would ever know the one true law of the land: one does not simply 'tussle' with Shuchiku Kiba.
His messy black hair matted with sweat, Kiba's set jaw loosened just enough for his own mighty bellow to issue forth in the face of the Hollow, and suddenly his arms jerked downward, shoving the ape-beast face-first into the dirt, with Kiba on his knees above the beast. What followed was animal brutalism at it's most basic: hands on the Hollow's shoulders, Kiba's grip brought the Hollow up, then down, then up and again down, over and again until the former Taicho's thumbs were scraped raw by the dirt as they repeatedly made contact. The Hollow had stopped fighting back after the first three strokes - the rest were just to get the energy out.
Finally, huffing and sweating and covered in what could only be defined as a mess, Kiba stood and shakily ran a forearm over his face and forehead, wiping away sweat and smearing grime, before finally he looked to the direction of the bow-wielding intruder. Kiba couldn't see the man - of course not, not in the dark, not from the distance Sengoku would surely keep, given his weapon - but he could hear the man's approach, roughly. There wasn't much to break the sound of approaching feet, careful though they might be, not without the proper training to be a damned sneak, and so Kiba's head swiveled to the direction of the man.
"No Hollow I ever heard of smart enough to sneak around. Not when there's prey getting itself nice and tired, all focused on something that can't fight back. Gonna prove me wrong, or y'got words?" Kiba spit as he spoke, turning his head as he did, just enough to show a sort of callous behavior. Death-seeking? Not quite. More like antagonistic. Itching for a fight, a rough tumble through the dirt. Kiba's once-grimy shihakusho was now more or less simply tatters, and his Zanpakuto was nowhere to be seen - left with the woodworking crap, no doubt. It was with a growl the former Taicho tore the jacket of his shred shihakusho off, tossing it to the dirt, revealing his bare chest, nearly shimmering in the moonlight. "If it's a fight you're looking for, you won't get a better beating than right here."
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Post by Bard "Dual-Strike" Alrikson on May 4, 2013 19:02:44 GMT -8
A new bellowing roar joined the howling of the hollow, and Sengoku raised an eyebrow. Two hollows fighting? Over what? Territory? Prey? Maybe one was a cannibal. The bellowing sounded oddly familiar, tripping something in his recent memories. Sengoku crept forward, low as he could manage. The sounds of conflict grew closer, and from the noise that was issuing forth, it was a brutal, physical affair. He came up on the scene, just a ways off to Kiba's right, and frowned as the man called him out. Grimy and tattered though his outfit may have been, Kiba was unmistakeably a shinigami. Few others wore that much black and carried a katana. He rose slowly, keeping his bow trained on Kiba until he was certain he wasn't dealing with some sort of lunatic psychopath, then let the tension out of his back. The bow slackened, and he tucked the arrow into the crook of his fingers, head pointed towards the dirt.
Shinigami or no, this man wasn't an enemy yet. Regardless of how furious Sengoku was with the Shinigami, it wouldn't drive him to unwarranted violence against them. Besides, Sengoku only felt true hatred for one of their number. All others were simply a representation of the old codger. "No fight here." He said, his voice a little hoarse from disuse. "Looks like you already killed the only thing worth killing in this clearing." A statement of fact, flat and uncaring. So long as Kiba didn't do anything unreasonable. A moment of realization struck the barkeep, and his frown deepened slightly. "You were commanding the wall during the attack. What are you doing all the way out here?"
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Post by Deleted on May 4, 2013 21:48:49 GMT -8
Spoiler "...and his Zanpakuto was nowhere to be seen - left with the woodworking crap, no doubt."
Just a reminder ;p At the declaration that he'd already claimed the only worthy kill, Kiba snorted and simply collapsed backward, sitting on what remained of the Hollow's shoulders as his forehead fell into his hands. To compensate for the position, his voice rose, to be certain he would be heard by the bowman. " Worthy of a warm-up, maybe. A good kill? They don't make those anymore." The former Taicho shook his head slowly, then with another sigh rose his gaze up to meet the man's as he was called out on his former position. Kiba took a few moments, to try and place the figure before him in turn, but unfortunately, most of the battle was simply a blur to him. A shame - he'd have liked to have congratulated the man who felled the beast that so easily dispatched a Lieutenant of that one's size. " They won't follow out here, and I needed to clear my head. Some people, just ain't worth working for. Why lend two perfectly good arms to a band who'd just give up on their own, right?" There was still a lot of moping in Kiba's voice, and as though a sulking child, the Taicho's right foot leaned forward and planted itself on the discarded shihakusho top, grinding the fabric into the dirt. " You ever lose a friend? A real friend? Somebody so close they were like the other part of you? Y'ever have someone ignore that hurt like you just told 'em you lost a sandal? It's no good man. That kinda hurt... makes you want to hurt something else, worse than you got hurt. Shame nothing out here can handle that kinda hurt." Silently, another couple tears rolled down Kiba's cheeks - the wound was still raw, and it had Kiba babbling like a child not even a fraction his own age. Some sight - a moping 'Can-Too Taicho'.
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Post by Bard "Dual-Strike" Alrikson on May 6, 2013 1:37:09 GMT -8
It seemed that Sengoku had found a kindred spirit in this one at least. He slipped the bow over his shoulder, his face a blank slate. He didn't stare at the man, but could hear the pain in his voice well enough to know he was crying. It was selfish to feel like this, Sengoku knew. Many others would know this pain. There was nothing unique in it, nothing solitary. He placed a hand on a small gourd on his hip, the slosh of liquid within and the cork stoppering it giving it away as a bottle of alcohol. At first glance, one might have assumed it was sake, but sake was too weak for Sengoku's needs. He popped the cork out and took a long swig, feeling the flash-in-the-pan burning of strong whiskey washing down his throat; the hellish brew his father had been known for left him feeling warm inside, even if the slightly sour taste made him grimace.
"That feeling is a constant in the Rukongai." The statement was said with such a simple, blank conviction. No passion, no anger, no sorrow; A fact, one learned from a life of screwing up and pushing through. He took another long drink from the gourd, then offered it to the big man. "I lost a girl at the Wall. I'd wanted to adopt her, bring her into my home. Protect and raise her as my own. She died outside the gates of the Seireitei. There are others. Friends I've drunk and laughed with, friends I've bled alongside. Some I know are dead, some simply disappeared. There's no pleasure in knowing either, but at least with the dead there's a finality." Just thinking about it all made his heart lurch. More so, it made him want to kill again, but he repressed it. There was nothing here to vent on.
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Post by Deleted on May 7, 2013 16:12:51 GMT -8
Yuigon may have only been one of many who had heard Kiba-taicho's anguished yell when he had been atop the walls during a very recent Hollow invasion that affected even the first district, but it seemed he developed a bit more worry over it than quite a few. It wasn't until afterwards that he discovered more details, thanks to rumors going around. It seemed a close friend of his had passed, and it had hurt him deeply. Yuigon knew the pain of losing a family member, but not really a friend. He wondered if the pain was similar, but nonetheless would not wish it on anyone. The man had told him to focus less on the job, and to divert some free time to finding something he would actually enjoy, to prevent from burning himself out. On the surface, this may not seem like much, but it was practically the first time that Yuigon had put attention towards himself, rather than just trying to keep others content.
With these thoughts in mind, the Shinigami had first checked the shop that he had visited with Kiba, that held his many beautiful figurines. The rock that had been covering the door the first time he had been brought to the shop had been moved away from the door, so he knocked and then entered. But Kiba seemed to not be here. Odd, doesn't he usually cover the door when he leaves? At first he thought nothing of it, perhaps he had gone out for supplies or something and simply forgot. But then he saw that the man's Zanpakuto had been left behind. This worried him a bit more. To Yuigon, it was one thing to leave a door "unlocked" as it were, and a whole other to leave behind a Zanpakuto, which was essentially a part of yourself.
The seated Shinigami left the shop, leaving the sword behind just in case Kiba really had just forgotten it there before a quick trip out, and started to ask around, if people knew anything about where he was. Of course the first bit of information that reached him, was the he had gone to the Second Division. From there, he learned that Kiba had been seen storming out, seemingly missing his Haori. This perplexed Yuigon further, but he kept up his search. Once he had reached the gates, information became much more scarce. He was able to learn that he went out, and in a general direction. For the whole First District, that was pretty much it. Other than the fact that he seemed to have packed. What could Kiba-taicho be doing? It was really starting to bother him now. Could he be taking some time off? Could Shinigami even take time off? Too many questions were running through his mind to process completely.
It didn't help that the farther Yuigon went, the less that it seemed Rukon citizens wished to speak to him. He found himself ignored, insulted, avoided. Of course, that was to be expected, going beyond the First District while in full uniform. With less people speaking to him, less people willing to actually answer his questions, he found less people who claimed to have actually seen Kiba. But those who did, still mentioned him passing through without stopping. That is, until he got up to the Third, where only a child seemed willing to mention that a man fitting the Taicho's description had left something in a "broken" house, and then left yet again. Yuigon was practically pulling his hair out at this point. A long search growing longer, and yet no real answers. Going past the Third District? That seemed mad with things the way they were. Yet he had packed, so he didn't seem to have a death wish just yet. At this point Yuigon wanted to find his captain to find answers, almost as much as he wanted to try and comfort the man who essentially signified strength to him, and has helped to change his life.
The Shinigami was determined to continue, and made his way into the Fourth District. But with no one really to question, he was soon losing hope. Until he heard the howls of Hollows. They were fairly close, but it seemed most of these cries were not just of hunger, or of the hunt. A few were of pain, maybe even fear. People were fighting them out here? He assumed it may have just been a few Rukons, either trying to scavenge from the ruins of the towns that once stood here or maybe trying to take back some land. Either way, it could be living people and his search could continue. He found two men, and they seemed rather tough much to his surprise. Of course with the dark he would be unable to immediately identify either of them, especially not Kiba, since the man's back would be to him. "Sorry to bother you two, but I am searching for someone who may have come this way. Anything you could tell me would be appreciated."
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Post by Deleted on May 7, 2013 20:33:22 GMT -8
Kiba's sulk seemed to deepen as Sengoku informed him of their shared distress, told the short tale of the girl at the wall. Kiba hadn't seen any children there - fortunate, too, else his depression would likely just be that much deeper. But he had no doubt the loss was all too real, and his shoulders slumped greatly. Despite the slumping, however, the one time Shinigami held a hand in weary declination of the drink, polite - as the situation was - but firm.
"Can't afford to forget... she'd never forgive me." He moped wearily, heaving a hard sigh before leaning back on his makeshift chair composed of the grounded shoulders of the Hollow, grinding his palms into his eyes for a few moments, then staring into the evening sky, vision swimming after the brief pressure. "If anything's gonna be alright again... gonna have to remember her, think about what she'd want me to do. Think it's time I started doing things the way I think they should be. No more cowing to white-hairs and their old, broken ways."
There was another long, slow breath after this decision, and despite the choice he couldn't help but feel somewhat empty, as though the words were just that - words. He needed conviction, a cause... but that would come in time, he was sure.
Or, perhaps, it could come with on the voice of an old acquaintance.
Kiba could place neither face nor name to the voice, but it was a voice he knew he knew, which is to say, it was not a stranger, and certainly was one of a Shinigami. He scowled at this, of course - there was no possible way word had gotten out that he'd left yet, not so far as it'd be illegal anyways. Which really only could mean that the kid was there on personal terms. Following out of habit? Kiba figured it was possible - people'd been following him for a few long centuries now. Only seemed natural they wouldn't quite understand yet that he wasn't to be followed any longer.
"And why would you come looking all the way out here, kid? Awful dangerous, and if the person you were looking to follow came this way, you can bet he did so figuring it would be dangerous on his terms. Think you can say you'd be safe at all taking on what he'd call dangerous?" There wasn't any real chiding in Kiba's voice - it was just imparting a lesson on to a junior, by habit more than by decision. After all, Kiba had been the voice of the Fourth Division ever since there had been a Fourth Division, working as a Fukutaicho even from a demoted rank and trying to be as personal as he could as a Taicho, which admittedly hadn't been as much as he might have liked.
And, of course, if the familiar stranger stood to pose Kiba some sort of danger... well, Kiba could hardly claim to be called unprepared even at the best of times. Turning his eyes up, Kiba gave a brief thought to the bowman - would he take the sudden appearance of a Shinigami as threatening, assuming he could place the boy in the darkness? Ah, or would he find the second a threat either way, thanks to the drink he so kindly attempted to share? "What do you say, Archer? This any place for a boy on a trail?"
The best choice, of course, would be to keep the archer calm - or calm as Kiba could, at least. And that would best be done by keeping him included in the conversation. Or, so Kiba thought, at least - he was usually pretty good about keeping such situations peaceful, as his previous occupation should allude, but it must be granted that the former Taicho was in something of a distraught state.
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Post by Bard "Dual-Strike" Alrikson on May 10, 2013 7:34:44 GMT -8
Sengoku shrugged and took another drink, then corked it and returned it to his belt. "You might be right about that." Forgetting them was not the answer. What was he doing out here? Lashing out? Venting. He was being selfish, really, if he thought about it. He thought he was out here hunting because it was the best way to keep the hollows from coming back to harry the survivors of their initial invasion...but that wasn't what the Rukongai needed right now. He couldn't mislead himself in this: The Rukongai needed warriors, people willing to come together and do what the shinigami wouldn't.
The support of the Soul Reapers would forever belong to the first and second districts. They simply didn't care about the third, had no interests to protect there. It fell on the shoulders of the Rukongai Citizenry, then, to take the lead. A moment of clarity gripped him. It was as if all the rage and the pain had been lifted from his shoulders just long enough to allow him to grasp the bigger picture. If he was to prevent another tragedy, he would have to take the reigns, take action. The Rukongai needed a real leader, needed a military force all its own. The Rukongai needed independence from the Seireitei, and self reliance.
Before he could continue down that line of thought, a noise forced him back into a sense of alertness. He turned to face the newcomer, reaching not for an arrow but for his axe. He was only slightly disappointed to see another shinigami crawling out of the underbrush. He relaxed visibly, his hand drifting away from the axe. At being called "Archer", he snorted. "My name is Sengoku, and with all the hollows running about, I wouldn't say this is a safe place for anyone at all." He smirked and shook his head. "That said, whoever he's looking for obviously means something to him. Give credit where credit is due, the kid's got balls; Even if he is a dumbass."
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Post by Deleted on May 10, 2013 20:45:43 GMT -8
Two things especially shocked Yuigon when answers came to him, from the two men he had addressed. The first being the fact they had responded to him in a non-derogatory fashion rather than attacking him, even though one of the two men did seem to be gripping some sort of weapon. The second being that he recognized the voice of the first man that had responded to him, and after just a moment's pause (which may or may not have been filled with a double-take) he deduced it was Kiba. Though the large Shinigami either did not recognize him in return, or was trying to feign ignorance for some reason. He was unsure which was the case. If it had been the latter, and with the Rukon man apparently being a bit on edge, Yuigon certainly did not want to add any additional surprise to the situation just yet.
As Kiba-taichou finished speaking, and then asked a question towards the other man, the Shinigami was slowly able to notice more features of both men, as his eyes adjusted. This helped to confirm that one was indeed Kiba, and he appeared to be lounging on a deceased Hollow, while the other seemed to be somewhat familiar. The Rukon gave his name, and that is when pieces started to fit together. Sengoku, he had been at a few of the recent invasions. At the very least, this assured Yuigon that the man had a past of cooperating with Shinigami, when the need arose.
It was only after Sengoku finished speaking as well, that Yuigon decided to speak up and answer the questions posed to him. Though the last line that Sengoku uttered made him wonder if coming out this far really was a bad idea. "I'll take that as a compliment. But anyways y-he... Left his sword behind. He was in a very distraught state when I last saw him, and wished to comfort him. When I heard he went out, I wanted to make sure he was okay. As for if this is dangerous for me, it would not be the first time I've killed a Hollow, and I did not come unarmed. Though I'm sure nothing I've said so far is particularly remarkable."
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Post by Deleted on May 13, 2013 17:29:41 GMT -8
The one-time Taicho snorted at the Shinigami's response, though he did grant what Sengoku added - there was a type of bravery indeed to be recognized in Yuigon's willingness to go so far just to pat a friend on the back. Disconcerting that the Shinigami had so easily tracked his Zanpakuto into his shed in the Third District, forget tracked him clear out this way, but Kiba was willing to give credit there, too. With a low sigh, Kiba rocked forward, grunting his way onto his feet.
"Of course he's tough - he belongs to what was my Division. I don't let wimps get very far when the Wall needs watched. Or, didn't. Whatever." There was a noncommittal shrug at that, then Kiba turned back toward Yuigon from Sengoku, scratching at his bared side. After a long moment, Kiba sighed and shook his head. "The risk you took coming out here is too great. Place like this isn't where the unprepared should loiter, and if you think you are, you clearly aren't. You should have waited at the Third District, since you clearly knew where I'd be going again, having found what's mine."
There was a slight pause from Kiba, then another slight sigh. "I wasn't expecting to be followed - the shack isn't ready for guests. No reason to stick around out here either - they'll smell that," Kiba jerked his chin toward the downed Hollow at this, "and stay well away. No fights to be had." The former Shinigmai sighed deeply at this, apparently greatly troubled; he was usually so prepared for guests and company, but this time, he had failed.
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Post by Bard "Dual-Strike" Alrikson on May 15, 2013 15:15:49 GMT -8
Sengoku grimaced, a new feeling of guilt entering into his mind. He'd strayed quite a ways away from his path. Yoshiya had come, probably to pull him out of his funk, and to make sure the Rukongai's Leader was still of sound mind, and Sengoku had proven exactly the opposite. Worse, he had spit in the face of someone who had genuinely cared about his well being. It left a bad taste in his mouth. He looked from one of the shinigami to the other. There was a chance here, one he needed to take advantage of, one the Rukongai needed to take advantage of. He cleared his throat, wiping the mild look of shame from his face.
"We have responsibilities, big man." He looked to the younger of the two, the boy who had come looking for his leader, and addressed him directly. "You came here looking for your leader. There he is. He's on the brink of despair, thinks he's gone over it. He hasn't though. Like me, he chose a path he thought would lead to his destruction. Only a guess mind you, but I think I can understand him a bit." He looked back to Kiba, a captain, broken to his core, but perhaps not beyond repair. "Your Division needs you. The Seireitei needs you, but more importantly your subordinates need you. Who understands them better than you? Are you going to let someone step up and take your place? Who's going to push for a change if not you? Who could possibly understand the need for change more than you?" He rolled his shoulders, and slung his bow over his right shoulder. "We have responsibilities: You to your people, and me to mine. I intend to go back to them now and apologize. I ran away when they needed me the most." He looked back to the path the younger shinigami had come from and took a deep breath. "If you're any kind of leader, you'll be doing the same. Maybe you'll get back before anyone with any sort've authority has actually noticed you were gone." With that, Sengoku took his leave of the two, his path taking him towards the wall. There was a lot he had to do, and not much time to do it.
{Exit}
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Post by Deleted on May 17, 2013 20:29:29 GMT -8
Yuigon could not help but be a little perplexed when Kiba-taichou enforced the claim of his courage by admitting that he was the younger Shinigami's leader. Before he could think this over or question it however, Kiba turned towards him and essentially scolded him for coming out too far to find him, and spoke about how he was not expecting visitors. Then Sengoku the Rukon interjected, speaking towards him and Kiba-taichou as well. Yuigon nodded towards the man, allowing him to finish speaking before he started himself. As Sengoku turned to make his leave, the Shinigami looked back to the depressed Taicho. "With all due respect sir, you seem even less prepared than I am. I do not doubt your skill, but travelling to a Hollow infested area with no weapon? I believe that our friend Sengoku was correct, in your attempt to walk a deadly path."
After finishing his last statement, he scratched the back of his head. Thinking about these events, it did seem rather uncharacteristic for Yuigon. Being bold in speech, leaving the Seireitei and travelling all the way out to the Fourth District, essentially scolding a man who he regarded as his superior? This was not his normal soft spoken behaviour. But then, one could assume that these were unusual circumstances as well. But these thoughts certainly did not reassure him, and his next words were certainly spoken with his normal level of confidence. "I didn't want to end up hearing you were dead. Not when I could try and do something about it. But if you wish to try and forget your sorrows by slaughtering these beasts, at least allow me to bring you some companionship." To further emphasize his request, Yuigon unfastened his dual Zanpakuto blades from the sides of his waist, hilts toward the form Taicho. Essentially, he was allowing the man to choose one, if he wished to have a blade. Though he knew not if the "girly" color scheme of the blades would be off-putting to him.
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Post by Deleted on May 19, 2013 10:28:51 GMT -8
Kiba's disquieted frown rapidly turned to a whole-heartedly upset scowl when the Rukon Citizen quite suddenly began speaking of Kiba's responsibilities and duties; now certainly, Kiba could understand if he was being spoken to as a peer - which really he was, if he were to think about it - but this man was speaking to whom he perceived as a Shinigami Taicho! Who was a shiftless Rukon doing the same damned thing he was to say he was shirking his duties?
Of course, Kiba could begrudgingly forgive the Citizen - he was plainly drunk, a slave to the liquid at his hip. It was the Seventh Seat, however, that got Kiba's hackles raised; the former Taicho had turned his back to his previous subordinate, to watch Sengoku's leaving the area, and the slack back would rapidly turn taut as the Seventh Seat proclaimed his belief that Kiba was unprepared, unready for the lands on which they stood. The former-Taicho's jaw clenched as he was admonished for not carrying his Zanpakuto, and the black haired hot-head's vision flashed as the sound of two blades being just-pressed from their sheathes cut the air.
Only an inch shorter than the Seventh Seat, the jobless Shinigami snarled as he dropped to a knee, seized the felled Hollow at the scruff of the neck, and with a hard turn sent the gorilla-sized Hollow flying at the Seventh Seat, aimed to crash into the young man's abdomen and lay him surely low. "Oh yeah, look at me. Defenseless." The one-time-Taicho snarled, his fists clenching as he rose to a stalking position. Kiba took a slow, deep breath through his teeth as he took another few steps toward the Seventh Seat.
"Let me give you a quick little lesson: just because a man doesn't carry a weapon, doesn't mean he's unarmed. Some men you can't call 'unarmed' unless you've actually taken his damned arms off, and that's a lesson a whole lot of people learned a whole lot harder than you did." It wouldn't do, of course, for the Taicho to get caught up in a vicious fight against people who already had cause to seek him out; once upon a time, hospitalizing a subordinate could be written it off as a spar gone awry. These days, who knew what could happen? So Kiba kept himself restrained, jaw set, fingers biting deep into his palms as his knuckles turned a stark white. "Some guys go dangerous places because dangerous things are the only things that'll make the hurt worth the hit. A man can't become a master swordsman just by doing one sword-swing over and over again; you need to expand yourself."
The former Taicho's breathing slowed, deepened; trying to turn his anger into a lesson was helping, but it was doing very little in terms of actually abating his anger. With a loud grunt of anger, he again turned his back to the Seventh Seat, moving his arms, trying to burn the fire in his blood out.
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Post by Deleted on May 22, 2013 13:53:09 GMT -8
It appeared that his statement had the unintentional effect of making Kiba quite angry. Though perhaps because of this display of emotion, the assault that was to come had a bit of warning. When the man snarled and turned, Yuigon took a step back, perhaps purely from instinct. Then, as the corpse had started to be lifted and swung around, the younger Shinigami started to duck down, and then fall forward onto his hands, the sheathes of his swords pressed to the ground beneath them, as the large body practically flew over his head. If the former Taicho had intended to finish the job, he likely would have had all opportunity to, something that weighed on Yuigon's mind as he slowly righted himself, gripping the sheathes once again as well.
He listened to the man's various bits of speech and lessons, not necessarily seeing how they applied in this particular situation, but remaining quiet until he finished and not rebuking what was said all the same. "My intention was not to call you defenseless, though I apologize if that is what you took from it." Yuigon paused for a moment, hopefully giving the man that he had no doubt was stronger than him some time to calm down. At least for a little bit. During this time, the Shinigami thought to himself, about possible ways to resolve this situation. It didn't take long for an unlikely, yet still possible solution came to mind. First, he turned his body halfway, in order to point at the deceased Hollow that had landed behind him. "You said what's left of that corpse will keep Hollows away, right?" Yuigon took a deep breath, not sure if he should really do this or not. He continued anyways, though his speech became softer as he went on. "Then let's put that philosophy to the test. A quick spar right here, your fists against my swords. If you win, then I'll go back to the Third District and wait for you, like you suggested..." Of course, Yuigon saw absolutely no possibility of winning this match, but at least if Kiba could let loose some steam while fighting against him, the man would likely not need to have as many fights that could actually be dangerous before getting it out of his system for now.
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Post by Deleted on May 22, 2013 22:25:11 GMT -8
When asked concerning the matter later, Kiba would be proud to proclaim he'd kept a reasonably calm demeanor through the encounter; that he'd gone so long without doing something awful or drastic was a true testament to his attempts to discern what his lost friend would want of him, and to follow those commands obediently. Of course, a man could only handle so much, and Kiba more than most was simply terrible about turning down a perceived challenge, forget an outright one. Probably the Seventh Seat knew that - probably he'd even anticipated it! Kiba's reputation was no great secret, after all, especially not to any Fourth Division member; no, it would be all too simple to goad Kiba into a fight, and thus it would need to be presumed that this had been the goal all the while.
Of course, as Kiba often espoused, there was a distinct problem with 'plans' and 'goals', those being that they often fell apart as soon as they met a well-placed fist. As a Taichou, especially one who governed a Division who's first, second, and final duties were strictly combat oriented, Kiba had faced challenges more than a few times for his haori. A good majority of his challengers had plans and strategems which they intended to use against Kiba, to get him off his guard and put him into a wholly defenseless position - unfortunately for most, if not all, there were few plans that could honestly account for the uncontrollable strength of Shuchiku Kiba, and fewer still that could account for his adamant refusal to bow his head in reverence to a 'sure thing'.
No sooner had the suggestion that they 'spar' been uttered than did Kiba again turn on a heel, fists clenched, jaw set, every muscle corded and bunched as the former Taicho nearly dropped to one knee, hands hovering just above the dirt - the stance was very easily recognizable as a runner's three-point starting position, though without the bracing that would allow for a maximized start. Kiba, of course, did not need to be fast, at least not in the feet; he did not need to be able to become a blur in movement, did not need to set the wind a-shiver with his passing. Kiba needed only mobility, and with a snarl the messy-haired Shinigami lunged, sprinting four hard steps toward Yuigon, cutting the distance between them in half before, all too predictably, the Taicho's form shivered and vanished, the thud of a footstep replaced and accented by the rustling of wind that so perfectly emulated the sound of a butterfly's beating wing.
Kiba was not a well-coordinated man, at least where his feet were concerned; that he used Shunpo so recklessly was not a testament to his surety regarding the nature of his fleet feet but instead his ability to withstand the mayhem that invariable ensued. There were those who argued the most effective use of Shunpo in a combat setting was to get behind the enemy instantly, and otherwise the ability was only useful in escaping the opponent; Kiba, of course, had a tendency to find delightful uses for things that others would deem nothing less than dangerous or reckless. Rather than assume the tactical high-ground in the battle, Kiba's Shunpo would carry him barely only half a step before Yuigon, and simply a foot and a half to Yuigon's right, or a shift to the left from Kiba's perspective. Naturally, this was not precisely what made the Shunpo so dangerous, potentially even lethal; what did was Kiba's outstretched right arm, hand balled into a fist, perfectly perpendicular to his figure as his feet caught on the uneven ground, sending Kiba catapulting through the air with a growl, arm placed to capture the Seventh Seat across his ribs - potentially even the collar-bone, should an attempt at ducking prove not-quite quick enough.
The movement was not intended to grab the Seventh Seat, as many others attempted to use the action, or even an attempt to directly throw him to the ground; Kiba's goal was envisioned as the utterly impossible action of breaking through his enemy, of snapping him in half totally. This was, again, totally preposterous; such an effect could not conceivably occur, surely not, but what it would do was lend the attack something of a mental edge; rather than simply throw Yuigon to the ground, Kiba's intention and the method of his attack would in all likeliness come to nothing greater than the breaking of bone, of dealing damage so utterly painful it could end a fight as quickly as it began.
Of course, this did not take into account what should have been immediately present in Kiba's mind: he had been challenged for a reason, no doubt, and therefore Yuigon should likely have been prepared for a follow-up attack. That he had not immediately finished declaring the terms of his 'spar' should have spoke volumes to Kiba, should have been a massive red flag waving in his face. Regrettably, Kiba had always been quicker to action than to thought, no matter how hard he tried to defeat his own nature. Whether his attack struck Yuigon or no, Kiba would hit the ground with a tumble and roll, grunting as his left arm, used to shield his face, was scraped into by coarse dirt and loose pebble, his roll halted by the Hollow-corpse he had thrown previously.
Assuming Yuigon had not utterly anticipated the attack and riposted into Kiba's action, the former Taicho would get to his feet with all haste, knowing the danger of remaining on the ground; it would be too easy to catch him there, and snarling, heel digging into the Hollow's body, he would be prepared for a retaliatory rush. Of course, if he had been attacked during his own offensive, that particular response would change, would have to change, but that reality, that branching truth, would need be considered when it was comprehended rather than in a pre-emptive manner.
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Post by Deleted on May 25, 2013 19:04:18 GMT -8
No retort, no questions, no nothing. Just preparation. Yuigon could not help but be a bit surprised by this reaction though once he noticed the muscles of his now opponent begin to tense, he had to ready himself as well. First he released the sheaths from his hands, allowing them to start to fall. As Kiba began his forward dash, Yuigon could practically feel his doubts and self depravity start to wash away. He then gripped onto the hilts of the falling swords, their wooden homes hitting the ground just as the once Fourth division Taicho appeared from his short-range use of Shunpo, as the 7th seat held his blades in a hasty reverse grip. It was not his preferred grip, and was perhaps a bit awkward, but it would get the job done on this short notice.
As the punch came towards his upper chest Yuigon lifted the blade held in his right hand upwards, the back of the blade lining the underside of his arm, so that it would be in a good position to intercept the incoming assault. Now, Yuigon normally would not have nearly enough strength to entirely stop an attack like the one headed towards him, but he did have a different advantage in this situation. If Kiba could not put a halt to his punch, then his blade would cut into the incoming fist. This could work as a fair trade, a cut fist for a bruised arm, since the metal would take the brunt of the force and then transfer it equally along his arm. But even more so, it is possible that his opponent's reflexes could lower the strength behind the incoming fist once the skin is cut and pain begins to register.
Of course, since Kiba had put his whole body and weight behind the attack, even a reduction in force could not make the man would stop dead in his tracks. To avoid loss of balance, perhaps even reduce damage caused for both sides, Yuigon had to also pivot on his left foot, in a clockwise motion. This would also give Kiba relatively free reign to continue on his course past, as the Seventh seat rotated the sword in his left hand, so he was holding it in a more comfortable grip, though he held it with the blunt side facing forward in his haste. Finally as Kiba began to get back onto his feet Yuigon switched which heel he used to pivot, still moving in a clockwise motion, and swung his left-handed sword towards the large man. He tried to keep just enough distance so that only the farthest inch or two of his sword would fly towards opponent's right shoulder. That way, he could try and keep the hand to hand fighter at a distance where the younger Shinigami could easily react, and possibly have the tip of his blade cut into muscle, and reduce the effectiveness of that arm without causing severe damage.
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Post by Deleted on Jul 10, 2013 13:53:17 GMT -8
Not for nothing had Kiba been Fourth Division Taicho, the one role in Seireitei most liable to engage in combat with his fellow Shinigami. Though his speed was no great shakes, a drastic liability when dealing with his brethren, Kiba's combat pragmatism was nigh unparalleled, honed to a fine edge for having constantly danced the blade's dance with his bare hands. Therefore it was not with intent Kiba moved, but with instinctual reaction, a pulling-short of his arm that would not bisect his fist but instead allow his forearm to absorb the sting of Yuigon's blade, the steel splitting flesh along the forearm for all the drag their two bodies generated as Kiba all but sailed past the younger Shinigami, who's careful sidestep brought him out of range of Kiba's tackle.
Having waged combat against his fellow Shinigami for time untold, Kiba had come to learn a few hard truths - first, that a Shinigami's blade was for all intents and purposes lightning, a flash of steel that he could scarce dare to match in pace. Therefore, it had been Kiba's lot to learn not to be lightning, but instead to be the storm that rode behind, all force and thunder.
Hitting the ground in a three-point stance, curling his limbs beneath himself, Kiba turned sharply in the dirt, still growling, for all intents and purposes an animal, affecting the raised hackles and bared teeth of a dog, his body recalling so perfectly those days of his youth, when these basic intimidation tactics went miles against larger enemies. Yuigon's next movement had been a swipe at Kiba's shoulder, and rather than attempt to back away, Kiba lunged forward, his left hand crossing his body and reaching upward; the back of his hand exploded in a semi-shell of teal energy, his reiatsu - strong, but not tempered - acting as a shell as he slapped upward at the weapon, to turn Yuigon's blade upward as he dove in near the younger Shinigami, to get within the reach of his dangerous blades.
This was where Kiba excelled, where he showed his talent - in this dead-zone to the average zanpakuto, where he stood to deal immense damage with minimal risk to himself. His right arm was sore, wounded from the deep scrape afforded at Yuigon's blade turning his body, and so rather than attack with the limb, his right hand reached forward, to take a fistful of the Shinigami's clothes, to keep him tethered near. This would be instrumental, key to Kiba's assault - it would be what allowed him to bring his opponent low without losing him.
If the flashing of a sword could be equated to a lightning strike, Kiba's actions then were surely not so, but instead gale-force winds backed by thunder. His head reared back for one rich moment before slamming forward, intent as much on denting Yuigon's forehead as simply stunning the male, while his left fist and knee took turns pounding inward for the younger Shinigami's upper back and right side, just above the hip. It was Kiba's prerogative to keep their bellies near, to prevent Yuigon being able to bring his blades to bear in the close quarters - it was how he would attempt to drive Yuigon into a stupor of pain and confusion, where he would find response all but impossible.
That, of course, presuming all went to plan...
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Post by Deleted on Jul 16, 2013 12:55:58 GMT -8
This battle already held and accomplishment for Yuigon, he had managed to keep going past the first assault. Not only that, but he was also able to cause some damage to the arm of a Taichou, or at least the man who most recently held that title. Though this injury appeared to give Kiba little pause, as he exhibited behavior similar to an animal and then deflected his swipe to come in close. Yuigon was already one to allow his mind to rule, not his emotions, and was good under pressure. In battle, that showed even more, as his mind focused entirely upon the task at hand and would not succumb to his doubts. Kiba's animalistic display would not dissuade or intimidate him in the least this time. His left arm thrown back, Yuigon was still recovering when Kiba gripped onto his clothing. But when the large man reared his head back, the seventh seat sprang into action.
His left arm that had been pushed far from his body lurched forward, and aimed to smash the over-sized hilt of his blade into the oncoming forehead of the man who could almost be called an irresistible force. An unmovable wall Yuigon was not, but a man was still a man, and he hoped the pain of such an impact could give his former superior some pause or even cause him to stumble back. After all, Yuigon's strength may not have been that impressive, but it was nothing to shake a stick at either. At the very least, perhaps the blow would stun the man for a second or two, which would allow Yuigon to push back with his feet to get as much distance as Kiba's arm would allow.
Next, would involve a distinct advantage of having two swords. One could always be ready. His right hand, with its unusual grip on his sword, had a smaller range than your average grip. It seemed as if his hasty draw had a couple advantages in this case, as he was able to make a considerably weaker slash towards the hopefully outstretched arm of Kiba. His arm moved almost as if he was throwing a punch towards the air in front of the big man's neck, but his sword handing down from his fist was the real danger.
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Post by Deleted on Jul 22, 2013 12:16:35 GMT -8
The blow to the forehead was, admittedly, not something Kiba had well anticipated. The hit paused him, gave him only a moment's hesitation, and then the steel of the sword glinted, and Kiba resumed reaction. His reaching right arm was sampled by the hungry blade, bit ever-so-slightly and a more grievous wound was avoided by Kiba's brief imitation of Yuigon's own previous maneuver, turning with the attack... putting his left side at Yuigon's back, albeit only for a moment.
That moment was spent with his left hand rising, the former Taicho growling as he reached to grab the back of the seated Shinigami's skull, his legs bunching before sending him, arm still, jumping forward. The idea was to throw off Yuigon's balance, and then to force him, face first, into the ground, the sort of stunning blow that could end a battle briefly indeed. Kiba himself would terminate the landing on hands and knees - one hand presumably latched to the back of Yuigon's skull - while the younger male, ideally, would be unconscious.
"Give up." The former-Taicho would hiss, breathing slowly, should the male show signs staying awake; the younger had done well to last as long as he had, there was no denying it, but Kiba was a force unable to be reckoned with by most as it was, forget in a situation where he already, more or less, had an advantage.
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Post by Deleted on Aug 10, 2013 12:30:23 GMT -8
Spoiler Who knew internet could be such a pain. It seemed almost as if, in this particular match at least, Yuigon was simply fit to stall the inevitable. Of course, the small wounds he was causing could eventually wear down your average man, but Kiba was not your average man. The former Taicho was able to flow with the attack like Yuigon had before in order to reduce injury, and also get around him. This surprised the Seventh Seat, considering that up until now, Kiba had been taking a very direct approach to attacking. The younger Shinigami was just about to try to turn and continue with an attack, in an attempt to catch the man off balance, when a strong hand was suddenly on the back of his head. Next thing he knew, Kiba had placed his whole weight on top of him, and Yuigon was falling forward. He did what any falling person would do, put his arms out. Of course, this was no simple fall, but a push with at least double the weight compared to normal, and so his arms did not entirely stop his fall. The impact was somewhat reduce, and when his arms folded (both blades pointing off to the right of his body because of how he held them) his forehead landed on his wrists. It hurt, and his swordsmanship would suffer for perhaps an hour or two, but knock him out it did not. Though whether that was readily noticeable or not to Kiba was a different story, perhaps further complicating this was Yuigon's pause when the former Taicho spoke to him. This pause was filled with tangent thoughts and his arms telling him they hurt, among other things. Give up? Well, I'm certainly not trying to kill him, so how much farther can I really go with this? I landed a couple hits, that's enough, right? But wasn't part of the reason I came here to convince him to not give up, and to come back to the people that care about and need him? Yuigon mulled these thoughts over, and then finally spoke, his tone unusually confident. "Could I really call myself a true member of the Fourth Division of the Gotei if I gave up on a fight?"If Kiba was still on his hands and knees, this could give Yuigon a small opening. After all, in that position, the most downward force the Shinigami could create would be his body weight. Yuigon was surely no strongman, but he could at least lift weight close to his own. While Kiba was more muscular, their actual size was fairly close, giving the younger Shinigami a little wiggle room. To be more specific, he would fire both arms in an attempt to get just a little bit of space between his forehead and his wrists, and then tried to roll to his left, away from Kiba. At the same time, he extended his right arm so that during this attempted roll, the blunt side of his blade would swing towards the big man's throat.
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