[BSD-RP] The Valley of Screams



A disarray of thoughts and a present lack of resolve is without exception the worst traits and largest flaws that a tactician can possess. Internal conflict partnered with indecisiveness only breeds failure, and leaves one vulnerable to the effects of their actions thereof - flawed. To willingly present oneself into a zone of danger or initiate combat with such a mindset is something akin to premeditated failure, self sabotage. Such had been the case for the young Shinigami, and former Third Seat of the Fifth Division. Internal turmoil, desire, and will, all misconstrued by his reverence for a single particular individual - and unbeknownst to himself....his own ego. The consistency of unfortunate events which had recently plagued the man within his own Division had led him to a state of some much needed self reflection.

During his advent towards the destination where his true resolve lied, the man's chest could be seen expanding slightly beneath the baggage of his Shihakusho as he drew in a deep inhale. A slight burning sensation seeming to manifest itself within the recesses of his nose as he teetered on the verge of sneezing - perhaps someone had been discussing him?

The inner turmoil, or rather unsettling irritation within, still raging as he reflects upon the scoldings of his mentor. The mentioning of teamwork and reliance upon individuals who fail to reciprocate the same form of partnership. Seated members and a Lieutenant whom respectively should hold the same values as their Captain, yet were the epitome of a self-centered mindset - himself included. To be asked to abide by and with individuals whom in his eyes proved not to be weak or unworthy of their position, but rather simply ineffective and untrue. The reality of the situation was simply Eizoku's inability and total lack of desire to be a hypocrite. To continue onward and under individuals whom he would never be able to see eye to eye with, and forever be underneath their will and authority was maddening - stagnating, and a waste of time. And there had been nothing more unsettling to the man than wasting time. The only way to move forward unhindered, was to carve his own path, and allow his desire and drive to become the very components which would refine that path.

After a moment or two of holding his breath, the deadheaded Shinigami exhaled both his breath, and the inner discord of his previous division - leaving them both behind. For they served absolutely no purpose anymore besides being the driving factor which directed him unto his desired path.​
"One cannot truly progress if they are plagued and weighed down by the baggage of their past."

Having successfully purified himself of his blighted mindset, he had officially obtained once more a clear mind, a light heart, and a weighted resolve. A primed tactician, and surely should he prove consistent, true, and capable - the future Captain of the Sixth Division.


The silent doors of the Senkaimon part ways granting access for a brilliant sea of white light to flood in unhindered, temporarily blanching all colors within, for but a brief moment. With the intense light swiftly subsiding, the dread -headed Shinigami would be able to take in the full scope of the terrain in all its glory, along with a visual of his proctor. In turn actively allow the individual overseeing the exam to catch a glimpse of him as well. Standing in the open doors of the gates, Kyomu would openly be able to observe Eizoku standing front and center based 100 meters away in length, and an equal height above the ground suspended in thin air. A lingering wave of distortion still dissipating from what one could assume to be the activating of his Shikai, if they were knowledgeable about the man. His domain set at its maximum expansion. Two blades, one within each hand, with the index finger of his right hand blatantly pointing towards Kyomu, perhaps in recognition of the fact that he had indeed managed to conveniently spot the man from sight alone.​


It had been a rather strange encounter from the outset. Despite Eizoku actively having eyes on the man, his actual presence was beyond vague. Obviously suppressed in some way, shape, or form. The suppression however seemed surreal and beyond natural even by the standards of an Elite Captain and Assassin. There had surely been another aspect to this concealment, perhaps an accessory or a modified form of clothing which aided in further suppression? But an active suppression is not entirely an end to a means of detecting a foe, in fact there had been a plethora of ways to circumnavigate this obstacle. One in which Eizoku would soon display throughout the battle as he set his senses adrift, in tune with a thin veil of Spiritual Pressure exuding from him, albeit in a focalized area around his general vicinity. But why? Although an individual could eliminate their presence in a sense, they cannot eliminate the space which they physically occupy. By utilizing one's own Spiritual Pressure akin to something as a radar, an individual is in theory able to monitor the inflections and movements of any physical or spiritual object or entity within their vicinity, allowing still the active pinpointing of an individual despite their intended concealment. His style of fighting would not conform to secrecy, but rather remain the beacon and prime target to draw his opponent to him. Purposeful bait.

This had been the unspoken initiation of the battle that would spark between the two. They both knew exactly the reason for their being here, and from the looks of things, conversation was already removed from the agenda.

Nevertheless, the reputation of the blonde headed Phantom certainly proceeded him, there hadn't been a single individual in Soul Society who was not aware of the lethal capabilities the Captain of Second Division had possessed. An assassin to the highest degree, which only sparked Eizoku's immediate interest and attention to the anken which he so blatantly displayed and toyed with freely. A true assassin never needlessly reveals their cards, weapons, or techniques so blatantly - not without a purpose that is. He had been more than sure the Captain had been briefed on his overall capabilities and abilities beforehand. There was no doubt it would certainly be used to attack the former Third Seat in one way or another, or perhaps simply serve as an attempted measuring for the Phantom to test the specifics of exactly where the Chronomancer's domain of influence resided or the effects of it.

Eizoku took in everything he could about both the man and the soon to be battlefield, in what felt like an eternity to him, but in actuality had only been about a fourth of a second. Unblinking, unwavering, still pointing. Despite his perceived lack of movement, three other physical copies of the man would conspicuously and abruptly appear in tandem seemingly out of thin air. Two rapidly making their way towards the Assassin in synchronicity, in what appeared to be a pincer attack, albeit remaining 100 meters above the man. An intense blurring and distortion of movements being present, trailing after even the most subtle of movements. Although the blades of both bodies appeared to remain idle at their side during their advent towards the man, their wrists continued to show the slightest of inflections. An occasional intense glaring of sunlight being somehow picked up and intensified at random around sporadic locations near him. They continued until completing a full circle before simply remaining idle - an overall presence lacking in both. Yet rather than targeting Mukuro's actual body, they remained above - all glares subsiding shortly thereafter.

The third presumed image appearing in union with the other two, directly before the Assassin, approximately 6 meters in front of him. His right blade pointing towards the ground with the edge of its flattened tip making contact with the hardened sun scorched terrain below. While his left simply remained outstretched completely parallel to the ground. Yet he remained idle, no presence. No apparent physical strike had been made by the man, nor did the distance between the two close. Only the sharpened sound of metal seemingly clanking against concrete ringing throughout the rear of the valley, partnered with an unusual yet loud sound of tearing fabric that seemed almost impossible to escape.

An expected assault, turned into a senseless feint. Exactly what was going on, and which Eizoku had in fact been the real ordeal?​




What did it mean...to be strong? To be brave?

Eizoku contemplates and reflects on the experiences he's had, and the people he's met, both good and bad. They are things that have pushed him in one way or another, they have been his compass guiding him to this point, this day, this moment. Emotions begin to bubblelike boiling water as he remembers the pain and anger he felt, betrayed and isolated by those he would call friends, colleagues but then a transformation takes place. He realizes that this is not the time for distractions nor is this an opponent he can afford to face with his mind preoccupied with what has already happened. And so the man...breathes. He steadies his heart, he brings his racing thoughts under subjection, there would be time to visit such moments afterwards.

It is at this time that the former Third Seat's journey finally nears its end, eyes temporarily blinded by the white light that greets him as he finally steps out into the Valley of Screams. The Captain hopeful gazes out at his surroundings from above, supported by the invisible reishi plates beneath him. Scanning the vicinity he easily spots his proctor who still traverses the Valley down below, his stride casual. Free from the confines of the Senkaimon's paper doors a glimpse of Eizoku is able to be perceived yet...it appears as though the Phantom has yet to notice his testee's arrival. The Captain doesn't appear to lift his head, nor do his eyes seem to venture from what lies ahead. Several meters to the man's left there is a sound of crumbling, a quick glance showing several small pebbles rolling down a distant canyon before coming to a rest on the valley floor, and again across from it towards the adjacent canyon, back and forth then back again.

There is a distortion surrounding the suspended shinigami, expanding outward, as pebbles again begin to roll down distant Canyon's opposite from the first, then back towards the first. The rolling of the tiny stones subtle yet in this barren valley their descent seems to echo. Brandishing a sword in each hand, Eizoku brazenly points a single finger towards his proctor who at this point, still seems to be ignoring him. Eizoku has traveled all this way, had steeled his heart, mind and spirit, had made his preparations seemingly unimpeded all...to be dismissed? No matter, young Yugameru had endured far worst from those far closer to him, and the Phantom's reputation for being cold, arrogant and disrespectful to others was not lost to the brave soul. If he could endure his former Lieutenant's ire, schemes and disrespect, he could endure being overlooked and perhaps underestimated by Captain Mukuro.

Eizoku scrutinizes the strolling Phantom, finger pointed time seems to shift from its stance of neutrality to aid the Captain hopeful as it slows within his mind's eye, allowing him to take in the entirety of what is transpiring before him. As he stands there, perched upon the very skies one...two...no, three Eiozku's are born from the very air, manifesting congruently to one another. Still hovering above Kyomu who, by now has yet to bring his stroll to an end, two of Yugameru's deadringers dart towards their target; Kyomu himself.

More pebbles seem to roll down the canyon and mountain sides as the twin Eizoku's continue their advance. As they press on, their movements, their every action distorted each one of them would no doubt have already noticed that, though Kyomu had still been strolling, the Anken that he had been seemingly toying with, was gone and has been gone since before the arrival of the trio. the gleaming light from their beings splintering in their twinkling becoming a kaleidoscope of colors. While these two dart and dance about above their mark, the third of the triplets makes its debut as if barring the Phantom's path forward. Up until now, given the man's reputation Eizoku might have assumed this was the Phantom's schemes and tricks, perhaps expecting the image before him to continue onward and phasing through like an actual specter. Surprisingly however, instead the proctor who had been casually strolling unperturbed, oblivious to everything around him...comes to a stop before this third Eizoku.

As the image of the Eizoku ahead remains idle, so too does the Captain's image. The two are seemingly at a stalemate. Where silence would normally exist as the tether between them, there is instead the sharpened sound of scraping metal, accompanied with the sound of tearing.


Eizoku theorizes that one could repurpose their own reiatsu to use as a radar, discerning the indiscernible, perceiving the imperceptible. It is a theory he intends to fully put into practice in this test, an opportunity he gets perhaps sooner than expected. What he may perceive first rather the presence of something is the absence of something — in particular an absence of space as though a portion had been removed and the subtly distorted valley becomes temporarily refocused. It is a feeling eclipsed by both the fact it was inconsequentially brief along with the once imperceptible reiatsu of Captain Mukuro, although subtle now appearing to almost manifest inside the man's domain, a feeling accompanied by the man's image directly behind the would be Captain. Aware of Eizoku's zanpakuto, it appears that Kyomu was experimenting himself, using Genzoken's ability to sever an opening within his sphere of influence, using his mastery in shunpo to propel himself within that opening, bridging the gap between them until it was non-existent. Given the man's proficiency in both Hoho and zanjutsu a single instant was all that was necessary to deliver a flurry of strikes all while appearing motionless, all within a single instant.

Where Eizoku had strove to force his proctor to have to react to his sudden and surprise assault and piece together the puzzle of which Eizoku needed to be targeted, it seemed as though he was now forced to make a choice, a choice of what to do now that the Phantom was within attacking range. A game of deception is afoot, and while the two combatants scheme against one another, the valley seems to groan a sound as though the very canyons around them was inhaling fills the air. A gasp perhaps as the valley waits with baited breath to see if a new Captain shall emerge this day, or if Eizoku is but another soul reaching beyond his means.




Blinding Results - Be Quick About It!

What can easily be perceived and written off as a lack of interest or a sign of intentional disrespect to most, had been marked ironically as a confirmation in the mind of Eizoku. The slighted actions of dismissal had been nothing more than assurance to the Chronomancer that the battle had indeed truly commenced. Assassins of the highest caliber gave attention to every detail, were aware of every presence, and cognate of even the most subtle of shifts in the environment around them, so as to use any and everything to their advantage in combat. So how much more so would the one who stood leagues above the rest, Captain Mukuro do the same?

Sure confirmations of movement had already been present, blatantly detectable. This in itself had been a sure sign of intentional deception – a man who’s own footsteps were rendered mute surely wouldn’t accidentally give way to the error of making environmental disturbances. Stealth is in its own right one of the specialties harbored by the Division which he reigned over. This could only be deduced down to the simple fact that Kyomu wanted these signs to be visible, these sounds to be audible. Where one pebble rolled, two more would follow immediately in sync. Where two pebbles rolled, four more would follow in the like. He saw it all...The continuous sounds of crumbling increasingly becoming more evident than the last. Yet, the image of Eizoku’s original positioning still remained idle, seemingly paying no heed to the details similar to as Kyomu had done with him.

The Phantom had been aware of Eizoku’s presence, aware of his visual advent towards him, but what he had not potentially been aware of in full…had been the speed the man possessed. The evident lingering images hovering within the skies of the Valley, the image positioned upon the ground, and even the image of Eizoku pointing – had all simply been delayed after-images created from the sheer speed allotted to him by means of his Zanpakto. The reality of the situation had been, that by time one took note of the beginning stages of the mirages present, the actions intended by them had a high possibility of having already been carried out. And such had certainly been the case in this instance.

In a game of deception, ambiguity, and speed in relation to ones actions, the only thing reigning true with absolute concrete certainty, had in fact been the acknowledgement by one’s own means of both their intentions and/or current status. The scraping of metal that had been heard and acknowledged by Kyomu had in fact been nothing but a confirmation of a singular act successfully being carried through in its entirety. The Specter would certainly be taken aback as the Anken he initially held in his possession had indeed been done away with, yet not of his own accord. With a sharp clanking and a flurry of blood spattering about, painting the dried crevices around him scarlet like an aged oil painting on a canvas. Kyomu would behold the entirety of his forearm which held the projectile, from the tips of his fingers down to his elbow having been completely severed, minced, and slung about on the surrounding terrain as if it had spontaneously combusted. The projectile weapon once in his possession having been thwarted downward, impaling itself blade first into the cracks of the Valley behind the Phantom in an abnormally rapid manner. Its positioning and angle by purpose in perfect alignment for catching and reflecting the rays of the sun in 2 different directions at once– one being on Kyomu himself. The echoing crumble ceasing to persist. The other ray straying into apparent thin air. A deepened and delayed slow echo seeming to rise from the cracks in the valley as the former Third Seat began telling the tale of the next chapter to this fight.

“...Baaaaakudooooooo #61: Rrrrrikujōkkōrrrrrō..."

A series of six golden rods of light immediately ejecting from the body of the Captain with the ray of light as its source, binding him in place with enough force to exude a constant sensation of asphyxiation. It would be in this moment that the delayed image of Eizoku's initial pointing towards the Captain would take its true meaning. He had done so with the intentions not of threatening the man, but rather notifying the Captain he had indeed already marked his true location...behind him. In fact he had been shadowing each and every last action of the man from the outset, moving with him in his own shadow. Albeit the Shunpo master was indeed a speed demon in every right, with his blades allotting the drastically heightened perception of his own vision, even his movements were rendered readable by eye - because of this, even while lacking a presence, Eizoku had been able to trail him.

Almost as if in synchronicity with the evisceration of the man’s upper arm and the restriction, the secondary acknowledgement would play its course immediately after the first. The ripping of fabric the man had allowed to fill his ears, had in all actuality been – his own. The Captain would find himself releasing a flurry of blood from his back, an apparent singular strike multiplying into hundreds in the same instant from one swift motion. The cuts deep enough to expose his spine and nerve endings within. The man’s garments being torn asunder in the process, along with the fabric holstering the man’s Zanpakto upon his hip - yet the blade seemingly did not fall, or so it appeared.

The second beam of light which seemingly reflected aimlessly into the distance would have its purpose revealed in tandem, as the ray of light met the path traveled previously by the two images of Eizoku prior, igniting and revealing a myriad of vividly illuminated spherical balls of arcs sitting idle in an awe inspiring, mystifying display that could rightly only be described as divine. Had the Captain not acknowledged his own dismay in his advent, he certainly would have escaped unscathed as he had planned. None of these respective sounds would have occurred, nor the effects that came along with them.

The deeply distorted and deepened slowed echo of the man's monotonous voice once again surfacing directly behind the specter as he assumed the ironic role of a poltergeist.

"Shallllll I have them rainnnn down upon usssss...?"

Certainly only the Phantom's actions from hence forth would grant an answer to his remark. With both having neither of their theories tested, exactly how would they proceed? If his actions hadn't been interrupted would they have proven successful?​





Time edges along, one tick at a time, one second at a time. This means nothing to Eizoku who stands with a unique perspective from most others. While he is a man who detests having his time wasted yet simultaneously feels as though he has all the time in the world. Where others desperately cling to every precious hour, minute, second hoping to make the most of the little time afforded to them, Eizoku elongates whatever time allotted to him. To the young examinee, time is always on his side.

Perhaps he was right


A true warrior, strategist and tactician Eiozku was left unperturbed by being seemingly ignored and disregarded by his proctor, unbothered by the sounds of crumbling. All of those things were inconsequential to him and his plans. He just knew the Captain was aware of his presence, regardless if the man chose to acknowledge him or not. Even if the Phantom didn't acknowledge him initially that would soon change. He'd make him acknowledge him, for no matter how swift footed Captain Mukuro was, there was no way he was swifter than the enemy of all living things; time 一 and time was on his side. It answered to him.


The clock continues to move, had one been watching an actual clock, or looking at their watch it would be as though the arm on the clock face was a living being, struggling and straining itself, exerting all its strength to move a single click over. Something that normally took no effort, an inconsequential act for it becoming an almost unbearably heavy burden, forcefully stretching every second into eternity. Eizoku's image in the sky had remained, fixed in place, finger pointed unwaveringly. The Phantom's form moving forward, step by casual step stopping only when the path forward is blocked by a third of the conjured Eizoku trio and it is perhaps by now that the truth is revealed. Behind the strolling specter that had come to a halt...was Eizoku. Before this fact could be acknowledged by the Specter it finds its arm removed from the rest of its body. Red tainting the white of the haori upon its form. The arm drops to the ground as if in slow motion. Eizoku's woven tale begins unfolding. Upon his arrival and spotting his proctor, the Captain hopeful immediately put his plan in motion. He wastes no time activating his shikai, and with its activation he points his finger marking his target.


“...Baaaaakudooooooo #61: Rrrrrikujōkkōrrrrrō..."

The arm continues to fall as the tale continues. With his target and destination marked Eizoku springs into action. He moves, swinging his blade at the arm of his proctor, a clean cut seemingly ensures Kuronosu remains unsullied by any blood. As the clock winds down Eizoku's voice slowly fills the valley every word...every syllable elongated. Six rods of light, a brilliant and dazzling gold lock upon the disarmed specter. The Valley of Scream seems to groan and gasp painfully as if acting as Kyomu's surrogate, as the Specter could not or perhaps would not unleash any noise indicative of pain.


"Shallllll I have them rainnnn down upon usssss...?"

Eizoku's drawled voice continues to fill the Valley. This was it, this was the feeling of accomplishment. This is what it meant to be strong, to be brave. No matter how great a foe, how strong or overwhelming the odds, it all meant nothing in the face of careful and strategic planning, skill, ability and...it didn't hurt to be a master of time either.


Something...wasn't right. The severed arm falls upon the ground yet, there is no clattering of metal from the Anken striking the ground, no thud of it being embedded. Then there was the sliver of the Captain's reiatsu, Eizoku had felt a glimpse of it back up where he had originally began his plot...what was-


Eizoku feels something wet beneath his shihakusho before the garment itself begins to become damp. Thin strips of lines almost like feint tattoos begin decorating his arms and along his chest. From these mysterious markings red begins to seep from them, trickling down his flesh. No, this couldn't be...that was, impossible. Thoughts that may have begin surfacing towards the forefront of his mind. His powers of time were absolute, there was no way Captain Mukuro had outpaced him with his Shikai active, there was nobody that fast, so it made no sense that Kyomu could out pace and out maneuver his newfound abilities of perception, sense and follow his movements, cut him up without him feeling a thing or even noticing him near him. No, it didn't make sense, especially as he was certain he felt Kuronosu cleaving through the man's arm! There was even blood!


Blood continues to pour. If those were Eizoku's thoughts, then..he'd be somewhat correct. It is true that these lines were not created by Genzoken slicing through him, that much was certain. A shift of those green eyes towards the bound specter reveals that, it is in fact still bound and still one arm short of a whole body. The Anken that it had been toying with, gone as if evaporated into thin air. The arm resting on the ground is there one moment, the next, it is gone. Finally the man bound by Rikujōkōrō also appears to dissipate. While traveling through the Senkaimon, Eizoku had performed a breathing technique to steady his thoughts, mind and emotions. If he should do so again, and take his time to look, really look, by now he should be able to perceive what was once imperceptible.

The farther backward you can look, the farther forward you can see. Straining his eyes a pattern, though still faint is soon revealed. It is a web or, perhaps more accurately an array of sorts. Eizoku had correctly deduced that Kyomu would never willingly allow some blatant and audible sound to be noticed unless he himself willed it. He is right, unfortunately as skilled and adept as he is in stealth and subterfuge, the Phantom could not control everything. The crumbling of the pebbles falling down the canyon's sides was the anken embedded in their sides, strained as they were being pulled by the tautly woven threads pulling at them. The strain of it caused the loose debris to roll down towards the valley floor. While not the ideal situation there was little that Kyomu could do about it, if Eizoku was alerted to the danger zone, he'd simply have to adapt and try another plan or...perhaps maneuver him back that way during the course of their battle. For now he'd stay the course.

Not unlike Eiozku, the image of the Captain was but an echo. A master of sleight of hand and the projectiles he often employs, Kyomu had indeed noticed Eizoku's arrival. Given his ability in Reikaku there was no need to glance towards the boy to acknowledge him. He simply began flicking his precious anken one blade after the other, his razor thread woven through the circular opening on the miniature dark blades, actions imperceptible to the layman's gaze, all while moving with each throw, every step outpacing his own image, strolling behind in no rush to catch up to its creator. By the time Eizoku had activated his shikai the array had been woven and the path through the canyon, traversed. Eizoku activates his shikai and using his abilities of perception he watches the strolling specter that was just that...a specter. He catapults himself towards Kyomu, unaware he is chasing the Phantom's ghost, and when he severs the arm it indeed feels real. Tenzen, Suiyo and those who had been watching the Kenpachi games learned that one could never take the image of Kyomu at face value. The foremost practitioner of Hohō within the Soul Society to date, it was learned that even his afterimages could hold psuedo-tangibility, something that the examinee's former Captain had observed and learned first hand.

Then what of the array? If this clone held tangibility if even slightly, and was walking in the wake of the already transposed original, then why was it not diced to pieces? The sharpness and thinness of the wires was such that, like Eizoku it would have taken time to catch up to the image itself, however unlike Eizoku it wouldn't have mattered as it was fated to disappear anyways. Eizoku certain of his plan's success bravely and brazenly propels himself through the array of wire cleaving neatly and cleanly through, shihakusho, flesh, muscle, and bone while the would be Captain severs the arm off the Phantom's specter. Rikujōkōrō holds the image in place, ensuring the remaining effects from the wire passing through it as well is suspended further before the image can no longer maintain itself, evaporating into nothingness.

As all this is revealed the array itself begins coming undone, it is a domino effect as the wires whip about in a frenzy, a thin line tracing the valley's floor starting from where Eizoku had initially began and trailing further and further into the distance as if retracing Kyomu's traveled line from the moment he himself had arrived inside the Valley, and still seeming to stretch further, uncertain where it actually ends. The feeling of Kyomu's reiatsu was not one to be ignored, it was a beacon, a hint one offered to Tenzen's perhaps most prized pupil and while the image that would have been perceived was not actually Kyomu, a mere byproduct of his reiatsu manifesting impregnated with his intent to kill over centuries of slaughter and death, it was the direction he himself was attacking from. A single swipe from Genzoken and Hyakūji Ryōran flies in an almost linear path, closer inspection revealing a slight curve in its travel. With Kuronosu active, the world in Eizoku's eyes becomes distorted from the altering of his vision. The incorporeal edge gives the shinigami a glimpse into the world clear and undistorted as it passes through his domain, cleaving through both it and Eizoku.

A new line forms upon Eizoku's form tracing from his upper left shoulder, down and across towards his right hip, this new 'tattoo' catching up to the others in its formation. In the air, behind the pointing image of Eizoku that perhaps now had maybe faded be it from being also bisected by Kyomu or simply its time in the material world coming to an end as well, stood Kyomu upon plates of reishi. As always the man was like a ghost, existing while not existing. The reiatsu that had been felt before one more insulated by the Captain. Amber hues gaze down at Eizoku.


Blood continues to spill as the wounds begin to open. The revelation of the sound of groaning is revealed to be the vacuum that had been forming from the Captain's slash. The vacuum originating from the crevice carved into the valley's floor sucks in the surrounding air and as a result, begins pulling at Eizoku's body that was being held together by his immobility. What this meant was, that the pieces separated from the wire passing through his body, would come undone as the stationary body was now forced to move. The elevated Kyomu remains muted, he says nothing and seemingly does nothing, his hand resting calmly on Genzoken as his haori flutters here and there. The clock winds down, and it appears perhaps it is the time keeper...who is out of time.




Snip. Pop. Snip.


A cohesive bonding of rich crimson finds itself streaming along downward curved linings of a seemingly non-existent stream-bed. Suspended and supported in mid-air without actual explanation. The rising temperature of the dampened streams serving to show just how fresh the pooling indeed was- the pulsations continuing in an uninterrupted and unwavering interval, something synonymous to that of a controlled heartbeat. The faint smell of sharpened iron making itself manifest, striking the noses of both parties present. Surely…this was blood.


The flowing viscous liquid seemingly becoming exponentially heavier in the same instance. The light smell of iron forcibly being overtaken by an overbearing scent of burning copper. Surely...this was blood. Yet, instead of the blood drenched, gore filled, crimson display making itself evident - the valley itself had decided to take the spotlight and become the main character of this chapter. A cascading sea of overwhelmingly vibrant iridescent hues of a darkened purple, overtook the valley, closing the curtains on this scene. A revision taking place. A stark rise in heat causing an extreme and unexpected updraft throughout the valley.


The lack of ringing from a singular Anken whispered tales of undeniable truths into the ears of the man who so desperately sought to be the narrator of this story. It had been in this moment, no, far before - that he would become cognate of the fact that the Specter had too attempted to follow in suit of his utilization of speed and slight of hand tactics to play his cards of presumed trickery in full. Expected, taken into account - seen. Yet, although being aware of the futility of his actions in the moment, still he carried through. An evident purpose behind his strikes still. His movements unrestricted, flow unimpeded. The expected feeling of his blade cleaving through a presumed solid...almost absent. Yet, still he continued on. The restrictions of a binding spell still persistent, partnered with the duality of rays still reflecting in their intended directions, achieving their intended targets. Still he continued on. Yet, the source of the reflection of the light had shifted from the desired Anken, to his own blade, a slight shift in strategy. Aware, he continued on. A feint.​


The craft of even the smallest of creatures often had a sense of extreme complexity, intricacy, and beauty in their own design. A web woven by a spider for instance. A perfect domain crafted by a true expertise - with a rather high success rate of capturing its prey and fulfilling its overall purpose - sustaining the creature and its desires. Its captures however, never held a hundred percent chance of success. Despite all efforts of the creature, regardless of how beautiful, meticulous, and intricate that web had appeared to be, should the very foundation of its establishment prove to be unstable, it all would eventually come falling down. The creature responsible for creating it following suit. And fall it would.​


The crumbling pebbles echoing from the farther reaches of the valley had indeed been a sure sign of certain activity, however it had not been by means of the Captain's actions in his lonesome. The Phantom, as perceptive as he was and had proven himself to be time and time again, had been so confident in his own strategy, similar to Eizoku, that he too had managed to fall prey to his own expectations.​

"Where one pebble rolled, two more would follow immediately in sync. Where two pebbles rolled, four more would follow in the like. He saw it all..."​

Had he been overlooked? Had he been under the radar? This hadn't simply been due to the impact of the Anken and the wires as they embedded themselves into the already scarred concrete of the forsaken terrain. But rather, the immediate removal and displacement of them in the like. But, how?

What the Phantom had failed to take into account once more was a simple fact displayed prior. By time one perceived the images of Eizoku, the intended actions of the purposefully delayed image(s), had likely already been carried out in full. The wave of distortion he had judged to be the freshly activated Shikai of the young Shinigami, had too in fact been attributed to this. Even the parting paper doors of the Senkaimon in themselves hadn't even managed to escape the full effects of the man's overall ability. The reality of the situation had simply been that by time the wave of distortion had became evident and the doors had fully parted, the Time Manipulator had already been long gone from the perch of his advent - even before the Captain had successfully fully completed his own intended trap. His speed too not to be trifled with or underestimated. In fact, he too had transversed the canyons in the like. Having long since activated his Shikai, and relocating himself behind the specter as he proceeded to leave lingering images in his wake. An unnoticed severing of heated wire occurring before his complete trailing - an immediate slowing partnered with a brief intentional sliding grasp. Blood.


He had mirrored him, his actions, as if he had been the shadow of the man himself. Inspecting, analyzing - every gesture and movement, regardless of how subtle had been accounted for - only a hairs breadth away from the man who hadn't even taken note due to his own confidence in the like.

Where one Anken had now been thrown, it had just as easily have been removed and displaced, while any others directed to intertwine with the structured valley of threads behind were deflected. A light touch of the tip of his fingers cautiously gliding about vaguely over the razor like threads, ever adapting to the wavering and fluctuations of the wire so as to coat it in his blood without sustaining too deep of a wound. His blade skimming the edge simultaneously in the process, igniting a seemingly insignificant spark. Until...it wasn't.​

In the scenario where Kyomu would assuredly cast his gaze upon an entangled, immobilized, and bloodied testee, he would instead find nothing. Or rather, he would re-discover everything, as the revision manifested. The once cracked and scorched terrain of the barren wasteland had now turned into a boundless sea of blue and white. The majestic blue being overtaken by a passionate deepened violet, before being drowned out and absorbed by an unbearably bright white light in its purest form, blanching everything in the entirety of the valley of all color. The skies had been licked with the last tongues of a fading fire. A sense of equilibrium altered, stances shifted, weight redirected, directions changed - gravity active.​

By time the assassin had completed his presumed setup, he would certainly be surprised to come to the realization that the very threads he had just so surely scattered and erected throughout the valley, had not only failed to take effect - but also his entire standing and perspective of the world, had changed in that very instant. By taking advantage of the man's own weapon and trap, the length, material, and durability - Eizoku had utilized it as a medium and means to progress his own agenda, his own abilities.

Upon further observation, beneath the unmoved sword pierced into the ground by the still lingering after-image, had been the new epicenter of the threads provided to him. 200 meters. The threads had been extended and scattered 200 meters in every outward direction, with his image being the center. Had the man truly not found it suspicious that despite his back being targeted, the after image had halted without an attempt to strike in front of him? The purpose of the image had been revealed like the last, it had been the one to spread the redirect and spread wires about the surrounding vicinity. And it had obviously achieved its purpose.​

Hadō #54. Haien - Sentan Hakuja*...Zanryu*

In a synchronous instant, every portion of the blood coated wires would be ignited at once in a blinding torrent of violently whipping, purple, raging flames and wires. The sheer intensity and unnatural traveling speed of the ignited wires causing the anken attached at the ends to whip wildly upward and around. The intensity of the heat in tandem causing a sudden natural atmospheric updraft, further aiding the ascent of the wires into the air. Both the flames and wires seeming to drift behind the veil of heat on the rising. It had lasted for what seemed not even to be a fourth of a second, a partial shape and enclosing in something synonymous to a halved sphere erected itself -another smaller version of the same sphere surrounding Eizoku in his lonesome.

The utilization of his own blood had allotted for the spell to not only ignite and travel at a faster pace with greater intensity, but also granted a graced lifeline to the utilized threads so as not to have them immediately incinerate upon contact in the process. Before finally...they had.



Before the Phantom had fully been able to continue onward from his attempted relocating, he would find himself stalled and removed during the installation of his own trap before ever achieving completion. Where he intended to leave an after-image in his wake, he would instead be left without warning, or solid footing. Left isolated in mid-air. Caught in Eizoku's web in a figurative sense.

The three been transported. Kyomu, upside down, with his back now towards the land below, an unexpected rapid shift in stance, weight, and direction. Even someone as masterful as Captain Mukuro would find himself unable to adjust immediately without issue, to such a sudden and unexpected change. Typically such a spell was only capable of transporting individuals and object from locations without altering positions do to the bottom portion being uncovered and un-utilized. However, with Kyomu's threads present along the ground, it now granted a complete and connective zone for transportation completely at the desire of the caster. Another smaller flash occurring at the same time of his own transportation, revealing Eizoku once more, upright, pointing downward towards the specter - albeit this time with his blade instead of his finger from inside the sphere of one of the massive golden myriad of arcs that surrounded and illuminated the entire area of the two - some seeming to be displaced.

With the flames of his technique fading out, instead of the threads being left in their wake, there would instead be - nothing. The vicinity of the area where purple flames once raged and were transported, now licked the skies in a veil of ominous red, as the super heated metallic strands gave way and were incinerated. The man's Reiatsu hadn't been ignored by the Chronomancer, but rather, it simply hadn't occurred, along with the other intended actions of the Phantom. His theories of the man's Shikai still untested. Yet, Eizoku still seemingly made no attack.

The man's appetite for violence had been curved as the actions and strategies utilized by the Captain had served to cleanse his pallet, preparing and offering something far more fitting and appetizing, at a wager he couldn't even afford to dine. A battle of wits, a war of strategy, with the price of death. The active pressure of knowing every whim, every thought, every movement, every action, everything presented the risk of dying, did nothing but keep the "Man Displaced Through Time" at his peak. He had no choice but to remain astute, alert, vigilant, ahead. Not one step ahead, not ten, nor a hundred...It required even more - more! A slight shift in the atmosphere and his overall demeanor - enjoyment? The man's mind had been overflowing with data, every observation, every tactic , every thought pattern doing nothing but providing him with more. His goal had no longer been seeking to damage the proctor, nor trying to outpace the man - it had evolved into an active lusting of knowledge - an insatiable desire to outwit the man. He remained alert and ready to react to anything that would come his way. How would this battle truly play out? Who's sleight of hand would come out victorious?​