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Post by Okuma on Feb 23, 2013 17:33:55 GMT -5
Dark Tidings
The district was bustling with activity, being the middle of the day. The sun cast its hazy rays upon the souls that made their home in the cluttered urban environments of the Rukongai. One such soul, a failed Shinigami, walked amongst the crowd, chewing on a piece of grass, his kimono swaying behind him. There was no hunger, and little suffering, outside the inconvenience of being bored. However, the failed Shinigami did get hungry, quite often, as his immense Reitsu demanded sustenance. Food in the after-life was more of a pleasure. People ate, because it felt familiar, and because it brought a sense of normality to life. Ryōken received strange glances from strangers. They usually provided such glances due to the sword that protruded from his hip. Few people had weapons in the Rukongai, and those that did were often Shinigami, and those weapons happened to be Zanpakuto. Kaminari Nayami was as fickle as Zanpakuto came. Ryōken seldom communed with the spirit, and didn't often like to draw his blade, let alone unleash his Shikai. It often caused too much trouble, and caused people to ask far too many questions. Those questions, most often reached the ears of Shinigami, who came after him. It was a life on the run. Sure, he knew he should be rotting inside of a prison somewhere, within the Seireitei, but that just wasn't something he was willing to do. The fateful day, where he slew a rival Shinigami in a duel—had been the fated day that of his self exile. Since that time, he never stopped, never rested. Not if he wanted to avoid his captors. Spotting some barrels of rainwater, Ryōken walked over and dipped his cradled hands in one, taking a long drink. It was refreshing, to drink cool water, which worked to counter-act the blazing heat of the sun. As he wiped his wet hands off on his kimono, he heard a chorus footsteps behind him. Turning, he grimaced. There were six of them, dressed in signature black Shihakusho. Ryōken wasn't sure how tough these ones were. Two of them looked like kids, but the one in the lead, he had a badge on his arm that indicated that he was a seated officer. From his angle, Ryōken couldn't make out what rank. “Afternoon,” he said and nodded, walking past them. Maybe they wouldn't know him? “Where do you think you're going Ryōken?” the seated officer said and rested a hand on his shoulder. “Make this easy on yourself.” It was a long shot anyways, Ryōken thought to himself. He spat. “Didn't enough of you Shinigami die at the Quincy hands? You'll want to leave me alone,” he said and patted the hilt of his blade. “Kaminari Nayami has been bored out of his mind and would be thrilled at the idea of a battle.” “It's not what it seems. Captain Kogo wants to talk with you, that's all. No need to make a big fuss in public and scare people.” “Wants to talk? Well in that case, I decline his invitation. Good day, gentlemen,” Ryōken said and walked away, his wooden sandals crunching on the gravel. WC: 510 |
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Post by Okuma on Feb 25, 2013 19:46:42 GMT -5
Ten steps.
That was as far as Ryōken got before the Captain stepped out from the side street alleyway. Now he was surrounded. Behind him were lesser Shinigami, and before him was a greater one. While he was confident he could take down most Shinigami, a Captain was something he was a little more cautious about. They led divisions for a reason and from what he knew, most had achieved Bankai. And, Bankai was something he hadn't even begun to comprehend.
His hand fell to the pommel of his sword and both of his brown eyes set upon the small man in the white overcoat. He didn't look like anything special, with his short black hair and thin mustache. But, there was a look in his eyes that brought chills down Ryōken's spine.
This guy is dangerous. He's a predator. He looks at me like I'm a hunk of raw steak, Ryōken thought.
The Captain put both hands up, as if to say he was there for peace. But, the damn look in his eyes said else-wise. Even if he wasn't acting dangerous, that didn't mean that any moment he could attack. Kido spells required only an incantation and occasionally a hand gesture to initiate. That meant, this guy was never truly unarmed. No Shinigami was.
“My name is Captain Kogo,” he said and gave a cut nod. “I only wish to talk to you Ryōken. I have an offer, that might be of interest to you.”
“I don't want anything from the likes of you,” Ryōken said. Behind him the seated officer and the other Shinigami were closing in. Like a cornered dog, baring its teeth, Ryōken drew his sword a few inches out of his scabbard.
My best bet will be to turn around and go through them. This guy doesn't look tough, but that white coat tells me otherwise. I wonder if they have others posted around, in a perimeter. This is bad. How the hell did they find me anyways?
“You have all the right in the world, Ryōken, to be wary of us. And that's fine. I am not here to arrest you. As you can see, I didn't even bring my Zanpakuto,” Captain Kogo said.
Ryōken admittedly hadn't even noticed that little detail. Glancing down, he could see that Kogo wasn't lying. He was weaponless. Sure, he could conceal some knives or a maybe a small wakizashi in his sleeves, but they were useless, compared to a Zanpakuto's power. Without his Zanpakuto, that meant no Bankai. Which meant, he was taking a real risk, not knowing how powerful Ryōken had become.
“I see,” Ryōken said. “What about your subordinates, they're well armed.”
“They are,” Captain Kogo said and shook his head. “They're not quite as brave as I am.”
“Stupid,” the seated officer said. Ryōken glanced back.
He was a tall man with a shaved head and braided beard. Beforehand, Ryōken couldn't make out his arm badge. Now he could. This one was of Vice-Captain rank. That made things even more dangerous.
Shit, I really gotta bail quick, Ryōken thought.
“The Captain is plain old stupid for not bringing his Zanpakuto. Especially against a wanted criminal, who happens to be wielding one himself,” the Vice-Captain said.
“You misunderstand,” Captain Kogo said. “ Vice-Captain Ieyoshi, Ryōken is not a criminal. He is a victim of a twisted fate, yes. But a criminal he is not.”
“Tell that to Central Forty-Six,” Ryōken said. “I think they will disagree.”
“You're right, they do disagree. But, that doesn't stop me from helping you.”
“Tell me, Captain, why the hell do you want to help me? I don't even know you,” Ryōken said.
“You have a good reason to be skeptical. You were a prodigy back in the academy. Like most Captains, I tend to keep an eye out, prospect the new students to see who has a strong future, to recruit into my division. You always had my eye. It was as if you were born for the sole purpose of battle. It's no wonder you took the life of the one who threatened you. It was ingrained within you. Losing you was the worse thing that happened to the Gotei 13.”
Ryōken eyes narrowed. “Flattering, but I'm not that stupid.”
He pulled both his sword and sheath from his belt, drawing the blade until half of it was exposed. “Punish, Kaminari Nayami!”
A flash of light indicated the release of his Shikai. His Zanpakuto went unchanged, the only difference being in the sheath. A design of gold lightning bolts were etched into it in a spiral pattern along its length. Ryōken drew the blade the rest of the way and turned, sweeping it around in a broad slash at the Vice-Captain.
Ieyoshi jumped back, the slash missing him completely. However, Ryōken wasn't done, nor had that been his real attack. He leveled the end of his scabbard at the Vice-Captain. A blast of electricity filled the gap between them, unfurling in a wicked zig-zag. Slamming into Ieyoshi, the force of the blast hurled him back and through the thin plaster wall of a nearby house. Chunks of stray plaster and splinters wood tumbled into the street. The screams of frightened residents could be heard inside. Ryōken's nostrils burned, as the electrical energy left behind stench of burning ozone.
With an opening, Ryōken sprinted past the other Shinigami who were still fumbling with their Zanpakuto's. By the time they had them drawn and were able to lend chase, Ryōken was far down the road, where he was able to vanish into the chaos of a large crowd.
Damn, I hate being on the run, Ryōken thought as his wooden sandals clicked on the cobblestone road. It was going to be a long week, or so. It would take him that long to get the Shinigami off his trail again. He'd done it so many times that it felt routine. But, it never was truly that way. Solitude and the open road was the price he paid for freedom.
WC: 1,010
TWC: 1,529
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