Gin
Member
Blinded by the incandescent light of the redheaded woman's volatile reiatsu, the man is left unable to properly perceive the the distance, speed, and power of the blast of spiritual pressure, prior to him triggering the ability of his unique fullbring. Left defenseless, he takes the full brunt of damage directly. His bones crack from the impact, with blood spurting from his mouth, painting the tiles of the Director's office red.
"My new partners, no, mis primos. You are bringing attention to yourselves, so to ensure you don’t meet an early end due to these silly Shinigami I will take the attention off of you. Consider discussions over for today, no need to worry about my Gigai, I will collect it upon my return to Hueco Mundo, although… You may lose another window. My apologies for that in advance. And now… Time for me to have some fun."
The Seamstress's golden eyes shift between the red liquid dripping from the corner of the intruding fullbringer's mouth, to the growing puddle below him, then to the Arrancar as he begins to make his way towards the window. Raising her free hand, she combs her red locks of hair back with her fingers, exposing her forehead and releases a long sigh of contempt. Having felt secure in her own abode, the woman's guard was down, allowing herself to react violently to the intruder.
"I think it’d be best to keep Kimura alive. At least for now, but. You and I know you’ll do what you need to do anyway. But we are going to need figureheads at some point or another. Be it faux or intentional."
"I had no plan. However, I believe that I can be of service and show that I am more than capable of helping you with whatever you are planning. I am not the peasant you see me as, but a foot soldier willing to do your bidding. If you give me a chance."
So willing to die. Eager one might say. She contemplates for a few seconds after Han'ei's words of advice. He is brought to his knees before her as he speaks, pleading his case. In reality, he is not the only person she deems so unworthy, or rather, lesser than. It was through no fault of their own but her own complexes and irrationality. Everyone was a stepping stone, useful in some way, and if they served no purpose to her desires, they had no use for their life.
A dainty hand inches closer on his face, the threads around her hand shift and reposition themselves around her fingers, reinforcing and elongating the tips of these gloves as long, sharp claws. Piercing golden eyes look down on the injured man as she takes his face in her hand and sin doing so, intertwines the man's string of fate between her fingers. She gazes deeper, further into his life, into his past. His connections, woes, and joys. The loss of his family and the emptiness he is left with. Something entirely unfamiliar to her. The love between parent and a child. There is no hatred from her to her own mother, no resentment. Quite the opposite. She feels gratitude towards the woman, thankful for surviving the attack all those years ago, for going through the pregnancy, even the absent parenting.
Stephania sees the memories of this man's past, his short time with his child and can't help but sneer at a memory of his child being held lovingly by the mother. This memory of his unlocks one of her own, a single instance of being held by her mother. There was no warmth, no motherly love, as she held up an infant Stephania in disgust with the very gloves Stephania wears, unable to bear any sort of skin to skin contact with the child she bore. Once the child equated the gloves with being held by her mother, something any child longs for, her attachment to the fabric manifested, awakening her latent powers and claiming the Seamstress's first victim.
In a similar fashion as she once did her mother, and she often does to the willing victims that come through her company, Stephania rips out the man's string of fate with one hand, while her other pierces the man's abdomen. Like needles into his flesh, there is no blood seeping from his wounds, instead, the man can feel the squirming of the threads inside him as they sew and repair him from the inside, repositioning the dislocated and broken bones, and mending the ruptured organs, leaving only his blood as evidence of his damage. But this does not come without a toll, as her other hand brings up the stolen string of fate and weaves it into her tie, merging it with her very own. This forced transaction shortens the man's natural lifespan, while equally elongating hers. Although not her usual choice in donor, the years added into her life work all the same. It is visible on her skin, as the thin fine lines of her age vanish, as if they were never there in the first place.
Her judgement has taken place, and she is ready to give her verdict.
"You have one year to prove yourself."
She leaves him with the memories than haunt him, they were dead and it serves her absolutely no purpose to alleviate the man's suffering and self-loathing. In fact, she finds it quite amusing. Unlike Tsukune, who's attachments to his loved ones made the man a liability. Stephania had no choice but to remove them from his life. Entertained by the guest, she either fails to notice, or deliberately ignores the elongating shadow behind her. Silent as the very shadows he commands, Hansha emerges from the dark and begins to update her and relay newly formed expansion plans thanks to the growing destruction of the city.
"Our tower, along with neighboring assets have been encased in shadow, no harm shall come to them. Furthermore, provided we put on our humanitarian faces, we can buy up any and all destroyed land from that battle outside. Could build our own campus of sorts, maybe even start our own university, we’ll have to see how much land we can get at the end of the fighting."
"I see. Distribute acquisitions through shell companies. This will keep the provincial and federal governments away."
While her vision to the outside is obscured by the shades protecting the tower, the threads flowing beyond these allow her to sense the altercation on the other side. Stephania can feel the spikes and fluctuations of power happening rapidly as the fight between their new cousin and several shinigami happens in a matter of minutes. The news about Tsukune hardly surprise the woman, as a matter of fact, she welcomes them. He had something most of them didn't. Morals and values. He genuinely cared for those around him, something Stephania and Hansha seem incapable of. This is his best chance of survival.
"Life through darkness, I can fix any injuries we sustain easily. I have Yayoi testing out a new idea I had, a veil of darkness that protects and heals. Good timing too considering this new venture you recently closed. Hard to trust something you can’t pay off with money. Means they don’t have much to lose or just don’t care."
"Perfect. With all the commotion outside, we'll find out sooner rather than later. As for you..."
Stephania finally returns her gaze back on Mikoto, releasing him from her hold. The strings loosen, but the evidence of their hold is evident as the scratches and indents in his skin will remain for days to come. They will serve the man as a reminder of this newly formed "contract".
"You will accompany Han'ei on his excursion, serve as additional protection and back up to him. He may have his own security, but they are still only human."
The woman turns away to once again stare beyond the shadows that protect their home, concluding her business with the Kimura. Her golden eyes shift around all directions, following the multitudes of strings of fate as they sway, appear, lengthen, shorten, and vanish. A single one of these stays consistent, vibrant, and full of life. Never wavering, shortening nor dimming during this life or death exchange. It was clear this battle would change the fate of Naruki forever. The massive destruction of the city and the massacre of humans at the reckless hands of these shinigami, wantonly releasing their attacks, and the indiscriminate might of their newest business partner, who only seeks to retaliate the assault.
Left alone with her trusted confidant, her shoulders tremble. Is this anxiety? Perhaps fear? Has she made a mistake by making a deal with the devil? That is yet to be seen. It isn't until he inches closer that he is able to see the crazed excitement plastered on her face. The city is literally being leveled to their benefit. Any survivors of this onslaught simply believe to be experiencing tremors unlike any other in their history, and as the newest build in the city, their tower is easily explained to have the latest earthquake resistant technology, when the reality of what is happening today is far more terrifying. Not only that, but these same survivors are becoming tainted by the rampant, stifling hollow spiritual energy in the very air they breathe, and in time, they will create progeny that will inherit these residual fragments of spiritual energy, birthing a new generation of fullbringers.
"Do you see it, Hansha? It's perfect. The shinigami have lost so much trying to eliminate a single arrancar. They grossly miscalculated and have destroyed the very city they vowed to protect. I just have to find a way to push them aside and take full control of the operations here."
