It was as the Captain Commander said, Kyomu’s fate had already been decided. The Second Division Captain had thought himself safe, had thought his training, his conditioning, his experience, would be enough to withstand the force of Shobatsu’s very being. Yet, for all his thoughts, his scheming, he still vastly overestimated his own ability. The fastest soul within the seireitei. That was the young Mukuro’s legacy. A master assassin, unmatched in his use of speed and cunning. Perhaps it was his pride in this moniker that led him to be so complacent. The fastest man hardly had to worry about being outpaced after all.
Or so he thought.
In truth, Kyomu’s mastery would only amount to the most rudimentary ability to see Shobatsu’s otherwise imperceivable swordsmanship. A boon in itself, this was something that many would have to spend their lives dedicated towards achieving. Yet still, even with all of his speed, Kyomu fell right into the Commander’s hand. Shobatsu, a man of incalculable reason and logic, had already decided every move this battle would take. Every detail of the Commander, every action, regardless of how trivial, regardless of how impulsive it may seem, was deliberate, predetermined.
He had opened his eyes, not out of some subconscious instinct, nor emotional weight, but as the first move to this game of fate. With it, he placed Kyomu in check. The force of his blast, cracking the barrier, was enough to assist both Lieutenant Ueki and Jinnosuke Ueku in freeing Head Lieutenant Oki and Kyomu’s own Lieutenant Yugure from the barrier. However, their lives were inconsequential in terms of the outcome of this battle. The true reason for the blast, was to further distract the already clouded mind of the Captain.
Still recoiling from the blast, Kyomu would be too focused on the pain, too focused on the weight of his duties, the lives of his men, the destruction of his barrier, to truly
think. He watched Shobatsu turn to face him, but never questioned why the Commander would do such a thing. Shobatsu, a blind man, had no reason to face his challenger. Was it out of respect? Impossible. The lives of Shinigami were but insects to the Captain Commander, or at least that was the belief, as the inner workings of the man’s mind remained a mystery. What was apparent, however, was that this was no courtesy action.
Even Kyomu’s own perception was under the jurisdiction of Shobatsu’s will. As what Kyomu saw and would see, had already been decided by the Commander. Kyomu watched Shobatsu turn to face him, an act which was in itself a testament to Kyomu’s speed. However, this was not all there was to it.
Shobatsu, controlling his own speed, deliberately moved in such a way that his afterimages when perceived by the astute assassin would appear to merely be turning around. Knowing Kyomu, even in his pain, would remain as observant and calculative as ever, Shobatsu deliberately manipulated events so that Kyomu would confidently believe that no action had transpired. The assassin was too dependent on his eyes, too confident in his sight, to understand the lessons learnt by the blind man long ago.
It is not that which is seen that should be feared, but that which isn’t.
Between movements, between afterimages, slicing between time itself, halving what can be seen, halving what must physically take place, Shobatsu delivered his strike. A single, fluid movement, from draw, back to sheath. Delivering the first, and final true blow, the cutting verdict. Not an unjust man, Shobatsu still gave Kyomu a chance. He deliberately slowed his swing just enough that the blade would catch the light of the Seireitei sun. Light, which reflected and clung to Shobatsu’s Zanpakuto across the entirety of its deadly arc, which clung to it even as it returned harmlessly to its polished wooden sheath.
Behind Kyomu, the cracked walls of the Captains Hall would have a new feature. A small, nearly imperceptible line. A line, which started at the westernmost side of the room, spreading across every surface touched by the light, perfectly bisecting the wall, with Kyomu standing perfectly in its center.
.
For a moment, time stops. No sound is made, no movement occurs, the entirety of the Seireitei remains frozen, captured in the suspense of the moment, not even wind dare blow.
.
Then, the top half of the Captain’s hall shifts, sliding down to crash against the tiles and grass below.
.
Not a moment later, and the barrier too would come crashing down.
WOOOOOSH
The small line, the trajectory of the cut, explodes in a glory of Reiatsu. Billowing black and blinding purple erupt from the remnants of the barrier, as Shobatsu’s cut manifests itself, time finally catching up to the movement. It swings, in an arc, soaring high into the air like a phoenix of purple flame. The arc of energy has no resistance along its path, its velocity untampered by its journey slicing through the barrier. It continues its path in the air, flying above the likes of the now free Jiro, Lieutenants, and the Eleventh Division. It continues flying high above the Seireitei, passing over both the Southeast and Southwest Districts, momentarily turning their skies black with flame. Even still, it does not stop. It reaches the walls of the Seireitei, the impervious defense which keeps so many souls at bay with its spirit-reducing stone. Yet this too, poses no threat to the path of Shobatsu’s cut. As the wave of energy cleaves cleanly through the top fifth of the walls. With the trajectory only slightly upward, the arc finally begins to lift into the sky harmlessly above the residents of Rukongai. The members of the First Division stop their activities to look upward with stifled fear and admiration. While those possessing enough Reiryoku to withstand it attempt to assist those average souls who have collapsed from the pressure of being beneath it. The arc continues soaring, growing smaller and smaller on the horizon, cleaving through the summits of various mountains that are unfortunately tall enough to be in its path. Until finally, it disappears, a small speck dwindling on the eternal horizon of the endless Soul Society.
But what of Kyomu Mukuro?
The man had anticipated himself attacking. In his head, he held delusions of striking the Commander with various gimmicks, smokescreens, distractions. The events would play out in his mind, as he planned his approach. Then, time caught up to him. The moment his body should go to move, it doesn’t. His brain subconsciously tells his muscles to tense, and yet, they don’t. No, not a single beam of energy fires off through his nervous system, his mind and body now separate. Frozen, the only explanation could be a survival response, some kind of instinctual paralysis meant to prevent him from making a mistake. Why wouldn’t his body let him move? He still held his sword, he still stood upright, he still had his thoughts…
Then, slowly, moisture fills Kyomu’s eyes. Tears? No...it couldn’t be. Slowly, Kyomu’s vision fades as well. His world truly becomes black, as the white liquids of his eyes empty themselves across his face. This white liquid is met with red, as the line across Kyomu’s face spreads, not unlike the line across the Captain's Hall. Blood, pours from it, mixing with the concoction of eye and brain liquid which cascades off his chin. The top half of his head slides, like the wall, like the barrier, off of the bottom, and crashes with a thud to the ground. It spins in its own pool of blood, As Kyomu’s body, in shock, still stands. His brain, sheltered in half a skull, lay at his feet, so evenly cut that he is permitted just enough time to have a final thought, to accept his death.
Then suddenly, Kyomu is snapped back to reality. The shock of his system still leaving his body frozen, but his head still very much attached and intact. An illusion? No...the aftermath of Shobatsu’s cut still remained evident through the surroundings. A vision of death then, an apparition brought forth from the panic and fear of a body going into shock, by Kyomu’s lagging reflexes finally catching up to Shobatsu’s killing intent. The Commander’s sword had surely passed through the Captain, so why did he stand? Why was he alive? How was he not injured?
Something was off.
No,
everything was off.
Gravity felt twice as heavy, his body twice as sluggish, his blade twice as cumbersome. Kyomu’s thoughts came to him half as fast, his body reacted to his mind half as quick. The Commander, standing before him, already a suffocating force of pressure, now barred down on Kyomu twice as hard. Had the Commander’s power doubled? It was an impossible question for the Captain to answer, as he’d find himself completely unable to sense Shobatsu’s Reiatsu at all. Should he find the willpower to think, let alone move, Kyomu would discover that retreat was impossible, now only able to suppress up to half of his reiatsu, and only able to travel half as far in half the time, making him far too easy to detect and catch. The Phantom of the Gotei Thirteens chance of victory, had just been reduced to absolute zero.
The Commander stands above Kyomu. His expression unwavering, unreadable, as immovable as a mountain, and just as eternal. The inner workings of his mind would be a mystery to all that had ever met the man. Was he even thinking of the present? Had he even been paying attention to the now? Or was this all not worthy of his focus, pre-decided, and therefore a matter already settled? Did he look upon Kyomu with disdain, or sympathy, or worst of all, indifference? In a single stroke, he had rendered one of the strongest Captains of the Gotei Thirteen completely helpless. With their Captain at his mercy, the fate of the Second Division was yet to be revealed. Whatever punishment this now was, one thing was clear, the Commander had not finished his verdict. To some this may be punishment enough, but Kyomu was too clever to think it ended here. Kyomu existed because he still held some purpose to the Seireitei, or at least, to Shobatsu, as the two had become synonymous.
The Commander had not shown Kyomu mercy. Death was a mercy in place of life. Shobatsu had taken Kyomu’s life, and in its place, cursed him with half an existence.
And he wasn’t finished.
