[BSD-RP] Soul Society: Central Seireitei

[BSD]

From pleasantries and straight into the business she had come for, this is as Omoni has always been with Nibui, something shared between the two that facilitates their relationship quite handily. Of course, even Omoni has more nuance and deeper meaning to her words than Nibui. He listens as the woman speaks, the smirk along his lips not yet fading as she complains about the Hoari so many others would covet so deeply.
“Ya think so? I dunno. Not a fan a’ white. Get’s dirty easy.”
As soon as those words leave the Captain’s lips, a quiet chuckle escapes Nibui and a hand pulls up to barely cover his expression. In that moment, it seems that Nibui almost takes some shame in his laughter. While not entirely new to him, expressing his joy in such an outward manner leaves him feeling a little awkward. In the midst of his laughter, the Captain speaks up once more, this time speaking of the aforementioned business of hers. Her tone goes quieter but seems to intensify regardless.
“Take me back ta’ the eleventh. I gotta ask ya’ some questions n’ we can see how good ya’ got while I was gone.”
The time the two had spent apart had faded some of Nibui’s memory it seems and as she demands him to bring her back to the Eleventh Division barracks, his head cocks to the side slightly, confused by the demand. Surely she knew her own way around after these many centuries. Then it clicked, of course not. There is a reason she is always late and a reason why she always has some accompaniment with her. Omoni is geographically blind.
“I’m leavin’ now so get a move on!”
He watches as Omoni turns her back to him and begins to make her way out of the Eighth Division barracks. For the first few seconds, she seems to be making good headway, in the right direction. Of course, that doesn’t last very long, as soon as her foot sets itself outside of the domain of the Eighth Division, she takes a wrong turn and with that, a soft sigh leaves Nibui’s lips and he takes on after her, taking a light jog briefly to catch up with the Ogress.

”It looks like I don’t really have a choice, it’s like you’re blind. This way, Hageshi.
He speaks his mind as his hand reaches up to meet up the far taller Shinigami. The hand clasps gently against her shoulder and pulls to turn her away from her current step and instead in the correct direction, towards the Northwest quarter of the Seireitei, towards Eleventh. His words don’t hold any ill will or malice and some might find that difficult to believe, Omoni however, knows Nibui, this is just his way of speaking. At least he’d hope that she hadn’t forgotten this.

Traveling from the Eight Division to the Eleventh Division

 

[BSD]

It is not unheard of to crave the approval of a peer, or superior. The trio that he had forced into maximum exertion had far and gone abandoned such trivial and elementary processes of thought. No; instead, Higen was a designated enemy to them like no other. He was an unconquerable foe, an insatiable opponent that by any means they needed to defeat. That was just it, by any means, It was all Higen requested of them, in order to prove that as weapons and soldiers in the Gotei 13 they would employ the same tactics when it came to defeating Soul Society’s true enemies. Those that wished to robbed them of the lives they knew, and perhaps loved. The Gotei’s enemies were plentiful and in force, and it was Higen’s promise that he would mold a force capable of combatting said enemies with his own two hands. Their ferocity in battle was equal only to their stubbornness, their unwillingness to let the Shining Knight discard them as fodder. Perhaps it was pride, or their drive and spirit that forbade them from failure. Perhaps it was the second, sinister voice that whispered to them throughout the night, and even now. They knew that the moment they gave up, the moment they’d lost control, the battle for both their soul and body was also lost.
He was unsure if he’d ever say it, but they had made him proud up until this point. Kyomu’s brat had grown into a being of her own, casting the shadow of the phantom aside, and blooming like the very lotus’ she sunk beneath. Lieutenant Suta had obviously learned a great deal from his Captain, a pairing that would surely and hopefully prepare him for an eventual captaincy. And lastly Tenzen Oda, the Mad Buddha had grown in both strength and mind since Higen proctored his exam. Despite his affliction, he was a renowned Captain; reliable, and skilled, his expertise helped Higen’s confidence in his group of Captains. But Higen was hardly the only one that need impressing, will Central Forty-Six believe that Higen’s job was done correctly, would they feel as if Soul Society was in hands that would protect it valiantly? That had yet to become clear.
The moment the flat of Higen’s foot makes contact with Captain Yugure’s mask she descends into the black marsh as her mask splinters into pale shrapnel. She is no longer his concern; The Light-born lieutenant ironically continues to stalk the shadows, unseen, undetected, a ghost in his own right. Captain Oda, however, remains a consistent nuisance, as Higen unveils himself from the smoke and ash created by the cataclysmic spell, the Kido Corps Commander is already in the midst of another incantation. This is not unexpected to Higen, a warrior already in stride, a mere twenty-feet away from his target with his arms reared both upward and backward, his footing planted and prepared until he just… wasn’t. His target vanishing into the wind, a hastened shunpo propels him skyward towards the barrier’s limits. No problem, why would it be? Higen eagerly drives his foot into the ground beneath him with enough force to leave an indent of his hoove into the terra itself. He plans only to launch himself upward and follow the momentum of the 5th Division Captain, to keep the pace and pressure, to remain as close to him as possible where his defeat was imminent. The Kido Chief was fast--yes--even more so whilst donning his mask, but Higen’s physicality allows him to keep up with most masters of shunpo without the use of shunpo at all, a trait many forget about the specimen of a commander. His plans, however intended they may be, find themselves thwarted.
An unseen force pulls at his legs, his arms, his neck, before constricting and tightening. He had no idea just what exactly it was, but simultaneously it did not deserve his attention. He begins to fight off the constricting force, his spiritual pressure rising in exerted spikes to combat it as they crumble against his strength and no longer restrict his movement, but in his blind rage to follow Captain Oda, he falls into the trap laid before him.
“BANKAI! HOSHIZORA YOZORA!”(星空夜空 Lit. “Starlit Night Sky”)
“BANKAI! HOSHIZORA YOZORA!”
While he briefly struggled to remove his invisible restraints, the Lieutenant concealed by light and shadow finally makes his move.The interior of the barrier is consumed by darkness, a spike in spiritual pressure felt and left unacknowledged. It spreads against the translucent barrier and coalesces until it manifests an infinite night sky. Stars in infinite count shine down from above, rendering the world they’d known before a distant and unreachable place. Each twinkle or sparkle was a deadly weapon at the Lieutenant’s disposal. A bankai of such beauty, capable of being so dangerous. From one of the many stars comes luminous bile, spilling down onto the commander in a massive beam of light. He prepares to take on the incinerating affects of the blast, unable to contend with the speed of pure light itself until it strikes him and he feels.. Nothing. There is no pain, no burning, no mosquito nagging at his flesh. Not the smallest of twinges can be felt, until he notices the momentum he held when propelling himself before the blonde-haired Captain is completely sapped from him. His every move, his eyes wandering from left to right, all happen as if time is moving at a fraction of its speed. It is then Higen understands, unable to respond in enough time to truly chase down the fleeing Kido Corps commander, utilizing his range to the best of his ability.
”Glowing ironclad fireflies. Standing upright, silent to the end."
”Glowing ironclad fireflies. Standing upright, silent to the end."
From a distance, the two could see Higen’s lips begin to part slowly, a curvature forming over his lower face as his gaze slowly shifts upward.
”Limit of the thousands hands, respectful hands, unable to touch the darkness. Shooting hands unable to reflect the blue sky.”
”Limit of the thousands hands, respectful hands, unable to touch the darkness. Shooting hands unable to reflect the blue sky.”
More of his teeth can be seen now, his small smirk graduating to become more of a smile as his Legs swing in the slowest of motion, trying to launch himself upward.
”Light bullets, eight bodies, nine items, book of heaven, diseased treasure, great wheel, grey fortress tower.”
”Light bullets, eight bodies, nine items, book of heaven, diseased treasure, great wheel, grey fortress tower.”
”Aim far away, scatter brightly and cleanly when fired"
”Aim far away, scatter brightly and cleanly when fired"
A full and profound smile now stretches across the commander’s face. Not sinister like the one prior, but fully and unequivocally genuine, as gleams of gold reflect in his eyes as the energy coagulates towards him.
”Hadō #91. Senju Kōten Taihō!!” (千手皎天汰炮, Thousand-Hand Incandent Heaven Culling-Sear; Viz "Thousand-Hand Bright Heaven Cannon")
”Hadō #91. Senju Kōten Taihō!!”

The blast devastates all in its path, searing down with heat and unprecedented ferocity. The barrier erected to protect those on the exterior crumbles and shatters as its fragments rain down like broken glass, glowing in a vibrant blue. Any buildings that hope to remain are eviscerated and reduced to ash, ceasing to exist. The blast causes ripples in the Sky that Arashi has created, nearly shattering the battlefield that he molded into his own. The swamp becomes sparse and shallow, completely bending to the will of the massive blast. There is only ash, smoke, and dust, creating a storm of debris that completely conceals the commander from view. As it disperses, his silhouette emerges in stillness. A shadowy figure quickly becomes a pale shape, and then a vibrant man as he is revealed. The entirety of his left side is scorched and scorned, follicles of hair uprooted from his scalp are scattered along the battlefield. Those watching slowly could see him slowly bring his right hand towards his face. He delicately brings his index and middle finger above his lip, pressing gently against his nostril only to reveal the tiniest speck of blood. He pulls his finger back, examining it closely, before a laugh echoes as far as the ear can hear.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA”
It halts after a moment, dying out like most laughter does, but concedes the Commander to say but a single word.
“Good.”

 

[BSD]

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The Central Seireitei rumbles with the devastation of a massive blast, with the veil drawn back it becomes obvious to all in the Seireitei what has been happening between the Commander and the Vizards. All of that Reiatsu bottled up in the “small” area due to the barrier is now released all at once. The raging fury of the combatants' tireless efforts against the Titan is seen, felt and sensed across the Seireitei. The creator of this devastation waits with bated breath to see if his efforts bore fruit against the Commander. What he receives in return is not what he expected in the slightest.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA”
Injuired Pride
Laughter from a charred man who only has a speck of blood from an attack that would have vaporized anyone else in the Soul Society. Arashi would be the first to feel his Captain’s Reiatsu begin to pull itself in. The Lt. may at first think his Captain is done fighting, however, he is far from finished. A bell has not rung, no one has said the fighting is finished. Tenzen is annoyed, angered, and insulted by what has happened today. He has no doubt in his ability in Kido, however, Kido may have been the wrong approach to dealing with the Commander. All of the Reiatsu Tenzen had been expelling up until this point returns and converges onto his blade, engulfing it in a golden glow.
No longer is Captain Oda projecting his Reiatsu as all of it has condensed and concentrated itself on and around the blade. In the blink of an eye he vanishes from sight, reappearing on the ground across from Commander Kagayaki. He takes a Kendo stance, gripping his blade with two hands. Among all the dual Zanpakuto users in the Gotei 13 Tenzen currently holds the greatest mastery with Nito-ryu (Two sword style). Able to fend off other swordsmen with a single arm whilst they have both hands on their blade. He has speed and grace that has his movements flow like gentle winds only to crash with the speed and strength of lightning all while maintaining such grace. Dual Zanpakuto were a rare occurrence, even more rare than that is a sealed dual zan having a shikai that turns it into a singular blade, like Captain Oda’s. The mastery of Zanjutsu ingrained in each arm of this Captain is significantly amplified when both hands are used on a single blade.
Kido had failed against the Commander and so Zanjutsu will be the next avenue of attack, however, Tenzen will exercise patience this time. There is discipline in his stance, still as an undisturbed surface of water, eyes trained on his target and how he aims to cut them down. He has foregone teamwork, he will no longer rely on the other two as Zanjutsu does not need as much prep-time as Kido. Yasu paid a costly price for getting within striking range of the Commander, how will Tenzen fare if placed in that same situation?

 

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The Shinōreijutsuin (真央霊術院, Spiritual Arts Academy), also known as the Shinigami Academy, or Shin'ō Academy for short founded over four millenia stands tall and proud today. An institution not bound by the control of the Central 46 and thus hardly pressured by the politics that many other groups or organizations find themselves under. It is an environment where those aspiring to become Shinigami, agents of the Gotei 13, guardians of balance come to learn to hone their spiritual powers. It is also here where one finds themselves, learning which of the shinigami disciplines they favor, what areas or subjects they have an aptitude for, and where their weaknesses are. It is a hub for the nurturing of minds, and the sharpening of steel.
"Do not seek beauty in battle. Do not seek virtue in death. Do not make the mistake of considering only your own life. If you wish to protect that which you must protect, slice the enemy you must defeat from behind."
The creed or rather, the commandment ingrained in the hearts, minds and souls of every student that comes through the academy. With so many changes having undergone the Gotei 13 and Seireitei as of late, the many threats that the Soul Society has faced and perhaps will face — now, more than ever was the time to ensure the successful grooming of the next generation of soul reapers.

SQUISH SQUISH SQUISH
Classrooms are filled with students — bodies adorned in red, blue and white peppered in the many seats before their respective instructors. There were those who were sitting attentively and not so attentively, listening to the history of the Soul Society, the Seireitei and the Shinigami, touching on many of the finer points of the history of their home. Often it is said those who do not learn of or from the past are doomed to repeat its mistakes. Other classes found their lessons enclosed within a dojo styled room, it is here where they learn the art of combat by blade. As aspiring shinigami they needed to learn early on that no greater weapon in their arsenal will exist besides that of their Zanpakuto. It would be their partner, an extension of themselves, but for those who have yet to acquire an actual zanpakuto, before they could walk they needed to crawl. Entrusted with their own bokutō during class, they trained to become familiar with holding something in the shape of a sword, to become aware of its weight and the feel of swinging it. They needed to turn that object in their hands into an extension of themselves. For some it would be easy, for others it would be a thorny path.
SQUISH SQUISH SQUISH
In another portion of the academy, a designated fielded area reserved for kido usage, specifically a place for practical lessons. A short starry eyed male with a rather upbeat attitude and a pep in his step waltzes through the halls of the institution, all the way until his journey brings him to the field of waiting souls. Instructor Asahi Kajiyashiki happily greets his class, ever eager to convey his lessons, to share his knowledge with them. He presents the class with a bokken or bokutō, an act most unusual to them as they have grown accustomed to only wielding such a tool during Zanjutsu practical lessons. The confusion is quickly cleared up from Asahi’s explanation, and then the demonstration begins. Though his classes were always informative, there was something off putting about the man’s demeanor, a fact shared by many in contrast to those who found the short statured, bright and cheery man to be adorable.
SQUISH SQUISH SQUISH
”The body is the greatest specimen one can ever find. I don’t just mean the bodies of souls like you and me,ANY body. A human’s, a Hollow’s, an Arrancar’s, a Bount’s, a Quincy’s, a cat a dog, you me, it's marvelous! Each body, like a small little galaxy or world waiting to be explored! To have its secrets unlocked!”
Another classroom, and like the others it is filled with students. The voice of the one speaking, does so from the Instructor’s pedestal. His voice is unnerving, the passion in his voice regarding the topic of discussion clear and evident to those present or listening in on the lesson.
”p-Ple-ase…”
A small voice, weak, frail, desperately calling out. It was difficult to hear, barely above a whisper, as if it was requiring the person all their strength to just barely utter that single word, that single pained cry.
”What is the soul or rather..what is A soul? And I don’t mean this in some pathetic mundane attempt at a philosophical discussion. But at its core, what is a soul if not energy? Like many of the things found within the Soul Society much of our makeup is composed of reishi, and it is the amount and density of this reishi which determines not only ones shape and physical abilities, but one’s innate spiritual power as well.”
SQUISH SQUISH SQUISH
”Ple-ase…sto-”
The man’s voice continues on with his explanation. As he speaks there is the sound of squelching and sloshing accompanied by that same weak voice, still struggling to speak. Though the class is full there are no questions being asked, there are no whispers or side conversations happening. No, the entire room — filled with a putrid stench, is silent.
”What then separates your body from that of say a hollow or an Arrancar’s? Creature’s who have lost their hearts, depicted by the holes on their bodies We know Arrancar have forms akin to our own, after removing their masks to obtain powers similar to those of Shinigami. While it may be considered a weaker or rather sealed form for them, one can look at it from a different perspective. If Arrancar are the evolved form of Hollows, and Hollows are beings that were once Human souls and thus had a form not unlike the regular souls you see around you...then is it not merely the Soul of the Hollow returning to its state prior to losing its heart?”
The sound of feet pressing against the wooden floor resounds, signifying the pacing of feet back and forth. It is the instructor, lost in his own thoughts and ramblings. At this point it's become difficult to ascertain if he is truly speaking to the class or rather himself.
”Shinigami Soul, Arrancar, Bounts, Humans. When you look at them, each shares a common shape despite being considered their own individual race or species. A familiar shape, bound by a common spiritual thread so to speak. We know that Sousuke Aizen attempted to completely remove the barrier separating Shinigami and Hollows, unintentionally giving birth to what we now know as Vizards however..”
The voice pauses, his tone shifting as he brings his pacing to a halt. He says nothing for a moment before proceeding on.
”...if the different races DID share a common spiritual thread or link between them, and if we focus on the fact that the soul is composed of reishi and these shells we adopt are composed of said energy what if someone found a means of locating that single thread and could freely..pluck at it, if you will. Would it be conceivable to alter one’s Soul at will? One’s shape, size, sex...and even race, all changed and altered as easily as one would change their clothes. We know it's possible for the Soul to transform. The hollowfication of shinigami turning them into Vizards, the slaying of hollows with a Zanpakuto purifying the soul and returning it to its natural state. Then there is the transformation of a human soul into that more akin to a Shinigami through stabbing the soul cutter into the Human’s chest. The Quincy, masters of reishi have an ability that absorbs the reishi composed body and structure of living souls combining it with their own. All evidence shows that in theory, it's possible!”
The man continues his one sided conversation, leaving little room for interjection from the class, not that any of them intended to. Their faces, frozen and twisted in horror, fear, disgust. It was clear they did not wish to be there, yet they didn’t move, they didn’t leave...no, they didn’t dare to even make the attempt. In short, this man was implying or at least wondering if it would be possible for a being to choose between being a Hollow one moment, and a normal Soul the next, or perhaps becoming a Quincy. He didn’t mean a being like Ichigo Kurosaki who had existed as Quincy, Human, Shinigami, and Hollow all at once — or, rather it wasn’t exactly what he meant. Rather a balance between all aspects in one being at once, one being interchanging their spiritual and physical makeup on a whim, altering their identity completely from little more than a thought.
”Please...please..just...kill me.”
The voice, this time louder, clearer calls out...and it is a request..for death? Its struggled pleads have been one for its demise.
”Oh would you stop being so rude. Can’t you see I’m attempting to broaden these halfwitted children? What will I do if all my efforts go to waste because you won’t stay silent?”

Strapped to a wooden table was a man — no, he could hardly be called such a thing now.Tears rolled ceaselessly from his eyes, foam and saliva frothing from his mouth as he stared at the man who was speaking, his captor, his tormentor. His arms were no more, they along with his legs exchanged for tentacles. His chest had been surgically opened up, flesh peeled and pinned in place to lay bare the inner workings of his mutated form. The blood soaked into the wooden table, spilling with the beating of his heart, the pumping of his lungs that refused to cease their functions.
"I told you before to save your breath. You wasted all that energy pleading..and for what? We’re still here.”

Another voice this time, this one belonging to another man also placed on a table. Unlike the first male whose arms and legs were replaced, he was completely absent of his limbs, nothing more than a head and torso. He lazily turns his head towards the speaker of the hour, flashing a warm smile. It was like that of a man having come to terms with his terminal illness. There was no fear, not anymore. Just...acceptance.

Nyuraku Kurotsuchi stares at one, then the other, then both as his eyes cross, then separate to stare in opposite directions. Blood covers the entirety of his right hand, dripping along the floor. There is a trail of splatter which covers the ground, no doubt from his handling of the bodies and his pacing during his tangent and rambling. He lets out a heavy sigh of disappointment before turning to face the class.
”I ask that you all forgive my volunteers here. I know, they’re not the greatest of specimens and there is little excuse for their disruptive behavior. I sincerely hope that you can look past the quality of the subjects and focus on the lessons I am imparting on you.”
He offers his genuine apology to the horrified students. They were unprepared for the horrors they had seen today. Nyuraku was not their scheduled instructor, in fact he was no instructor at all. A shut-in, and member of the Twelfth Division and Research and Development Institute, the scientist found himself taking over the class in hopes of gaining the favor of the new Commander. Kurotsuchi was greatly troubled when learning that Commander Murasaki was imprisoned once more in the Muken, beyond his reach. The only reprieve he found was learning that former Head Lieutenant Oki was considered a fugitive. No greater joy was there, knowing that the woman who had blocked him at every hand from obtaining the genetic material he needed was gone and could no longer impede his research. Everything would be better now, no more would he suffer rejections in his pursuit of glory and discovery — that is until he met the new Head Lieutenant, Fuyuko Kasumi. The woman proved to be just as much a thorn in his side as that troublesome Oki, if not a greater one.
Again, his path towards Kagayaki’s body was blocked. Several times he had thought of confiding in and requesting the aid of his (unrequited) good friend Captain Nakamoto...but no. He couldn’t trouble his companion, though they were surely the closest of friends, bound together by their good looks and the envy of all others, this was something he needed to do himself. That is how he came up with the idea of helping the Academy part time. Surely if it was known he had helped produce splendid meatshields and specimens, he would be justly rewarded. Thus, the classroom of an instructor was commandeered, the actual instructor’s whereabouts currently unknown.
Preparing to continue on with his theory when the entire Academy shakes abruptly. The frozen students finally move, jolting slightly from the sudden phenomenon. Coupled with the fear of this stranger’s presentation, they nearly fell over in panic.

The sound of clacking and tapping is heard when a bug-like robotic creature scales the podium, coming to a halt only once it reaches the top. A single lens on the front acts as its eye, opening and closing like a camera shutter, as if the creature was blinking. There is a beam that shoots from a second lens fixed on its back like a projector, that single that expands out in a bluish glow. A multitude of lights are displayed, spiraling in various directions, glowing points appearing on each ring. Nyuraku stares silently at the holo projection, saying nothing to the class, offering no explanation to what is being displayed, or what the colors or points represent. He brings his blood covered hand up to his chin, stroking it, inadvertently smearing the blood on his face as he ponders.
”We’ll end the lesson here for today. Think about all I’ve said, oh and don’t forget to purchase and order your own bottle of Kurosheen!”
The projection ends as the creature scurries down off the podium. Plugging in his shameless advertising, the scientist grips the tables holding his specimens, wheeling them out the classroom and down the hall. It is only once he is gone that the students collapse, their hands and bodies shaking from the psychological ordeal they’ve just been placed in. They hoped that no matter what, that man would not be allowed back there again, others also wondering about the whereabouts of their actual instructor, some fearing the worst. Whatever the case
This academy day was one they’d never forget.

 

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Both spectacular and devastating, Captain Oda’s attack lands with the help of his own Lieutenant. Its force is a grand sight to see, and even in such proximity, once closed in by the now shattered barrier, Arashi stands still, unbothered by the weight of what has just transpired. The sky filled with ripples, however, the proof of his training shows in his Bankai, the darkness returning, unwavering. Acting now as the very barrier that once kept outsiders safe from the four signatures within. He doesn’t seem joyous, not even the permanent smile of his mask hides the radiance of impatience, wondering if the Captain’s attack left a dent upon the commander.
Only a dent?
Is this how Arashi perceived the skill and hollowfied power of his superior? No, Arashi holds no doubt in what Tenzen is capable of, believing full and well that he attempted to hit the commander with all his might. Alongside the three of them, even though the Commander has been sharpening them for the past 100 years, he himself has been training simultaneously. Growing as they did. From what he once was, he has become far more than a mere Veteran Captain. Like any seasoned warrior, Arashi awaits the evidence of a body, dead or alive. However, the latter is what comes from the results. A silhouette, the Goliath still stands strong, and though battle damaged, only a spec of blood is what tells of their efforts.
Progress is progress, and it seems as though the Commander’s laughter and a single word would be proof of it. However, Captain Oda stands within his own rage, his own anger, disappointed that the strength he shows now is simply not enough. With that frustration, Tenzen quickly refines his spiritual power. Condensing it, honing it, sharpening it along the edge of his blade. He suspects a different approach, as long-range tactics have not been as adequate as he had hoped. Captain Oda moves, leaving his Lieutenant behind. As Captain Oda prepares, Arashi recalls his attack from earlier in the battle. Remembering the way his light bounced off the Commander. Each spec of light is his blade, broken into pieces but once conjoined, how will the Commander’s armor fair?
The hand along the handle of his Zanpakuto tightens, and beneath the time frame of a passing second, every spec of light that littered the entirety of the battlefield pulls towards him instantaneously. His blade forms with overwhelming intensity, and it is only enhanced by the Reiryoku he applies to it.
“ That armor of his… Is it similar to an Arrancar’s Hierro? If that's the case, it's the second skin, but it's not gonna be that simple, I`ll need to cut deeper if I want a decisive strike.”
“ That armor of his… Is it similar to an Arrancar’s Hierro? If that's the case, it's the second skin, but it's not gonna be that simple, I`ll need to cut deeper if I want a decisive strike.”
Preparing to act on this mental note of his, he utilizes an advantage that has clearly been shown. His speed. From the sky once more, another beam of light falls, and while the Commander had been caught off guard by its effect before, he will not be given enough time to acquire a proper defense for it. For now, the Commander stands at the mercy of Arashi’s Bankai. Once caught, all things, including the Commander have slowed once again, but within the domain of light that showers over him, Arashi stands, having arrived via Shunpo and leaving behind a small orb of light that flickers in his former position.. Both hands along with the handle, clenched with an unwavering focus. No hesitation in his step. The intent to kill is clear, palpable even. With speeds that likely surpassed the Commander, he would now be light years above him, thanks to Yozora Hoshizora.
From his blindside, Arashi’s Zanjutsu skill is put to use. A multitude of strikes from every angle, the calling card of Senmaioroshi, and he himself unhindered by the effects of his Bankai. With unpredictability, the number of strikes becomes incalculable along with his speed. His blade and arms becoming a blur at first until they can’t even be perceived visibly. With each motion, as each strike is held by both hands they undoubtedly become sharper, stronger, deadlier. In under a second Arashi had performed a thousand strikes easily, but those numbers continue to climb, as he’d use his footwork to move around the Titan. Whether his strikes would breakthrough or not, his determination would not waver.