Cold steel cleaved seamlessly through flesh — Nibui's expression betraying him, exposing the pain that coursed from the wound. The boy still mid-attack brought it to a forceful end, blood spurting and flowing from the still open wound, the arm that was aiding him up to now, loose..lifeless. Kyomu continued along his course, body becoming slightly misshapen in several places throughout his transit. Nibui seemed to understand the risks and dangers of allowing the Captain to take his back, attempting to deter such a fate he pressed through the pain, turning keep his proctor's image ever in his line of sight.
The vigilant Nibui studied Kyomu's movements, ever on the move. He watched the Captain's hands, movements that seemed less concealed than before, move to flick the projectiles towards the injured and bleeding examinee. The projectiles that moved along their set course,
appearing to target the left and right shoulders and waists respectively would....not. Curving around Nibui's image the anken arced as they spiraled through the air. Kyomu's expression left unchanged.
Ting, TING
Metal struck metal, two of the anken striking their counterparts to alter their course while still mid-flight. The image of Nibui, lagging behind his movements would undoubtedly eventually fade away, after all...it was but a temporary mirage. The anken's purpose was never meant to be so direct, Kyomu having long since mastered their use as well as sleight of hand was able to alter and adjust the way he launched the small hidden blades. One blade ricocheted spiraling toward's the Captain's left the other towards his right. He expected the boy to put up
some resistance after receiving such an injury. What were his options? Immediate retaliation. Would he take to the skies for a downward slash? No, unlikely. It left him too wide open, little room for maneuverability, and the boy hardly seemed the type. Perhaps a surprise attack from behind? No, never that. It would take someone greater than Nibui, and still lesser than Kyomu himself to have a chance of accomplishing such a feat. The quickest routes were to his sides, but would Nibui favor the left or the right? The Captain could ponder, and speculate and take a guess, but he was never one to leave things to chance. If he could not pick a side, then he would choose both, and both he chose.
Spiraling their way, the force of the ricochet doubling their speed all while Nibui himself manifested at Kyomu's side, his left to be precise, blade well in motion — Swift, seamless, intent on cleaving cleanly through Kyomu. It was an act that mirrored the shinigami's opening gambit, almost exactly so. The anken's journey was a short lived one, the boy's reiatsu erupting from him, in greater force and ferocity, terra forming the valley beneath its fury, and consequently crushing the dancing blades before they could complete their trek. Rock and stone was pulverized, flattened cleanly and evenly further into the ground, sinking further and further still, dominated by the boy's spiritual pressure. Near the source of this oppressive force, seemed worse for wear. It seemed the boy intended to not only cleave through his proctor, but to limit his movements with his reiryoku. Interesting.
"Ugh-!"
A sound, four meters to Nibui's 9 O'Clock. The Captain's image directly before the shinigami was cleaved through flawlessly without fail, yet no blood stained the blade of his zanpakuto, the pressure focused on the object of Nibui's perception causing the image to collapse and disperse beneath its weight. Kyomu seemingly stood in place, his right hand clinging to Genzōken, its fractured shadow now absent from the valley's floor. His already fierce visage had grown increasingly more vicious, pupiless eyes leering at the boy. Bones creaked and cried out in agony, knees doing their best not to buckle, their fate uncertain should they yield. Spiritual power coursed through every fiber of his being, augmenting his strength ten, fifty, a hundred fold to aid him in protesting the domineering pressure while his special attire struggled to resist as well, faltering at the proverbial seams. Where his reiatsu was once imperceptible, it now roared, becoming a visible force around the Captain, just barely keeping him from being flattened. Still, this was not enough to shift Kyomu's perception of the boy.
Memories of his days of youth, still a child were ever present with him. How many times were his boy's broken, forcefully shattered only to be mended and shattered again? How many times had his flesh been pierced and flayed, restored and pierced again. How many times had his breath been robbed from him, taken to the precipice of life and death, then forced just beyond its threshold into the abyss, and brought back again? No, Kyomu was no stranger to pain or torment, he was well accustomed to such, intimately so.
It was evident that the boy was more blessed than Kyomu in regards to reiryoku, a point he was well aware of. This current display of spiritual pressure, though greater than before by many folds, did nothing to reinforce that mark. Kyomu needed no further convincing of the boy's well of spiritual power, nor did he need further example or displays of his reiatsu. He was curious what Nibui was able to accomplish with such a blade, the answer seemed to be....nothing.
'Your confidence appears to in this boundless amount of spiritual power. Very well, I shall rend it asunder.'
Words spoken in confidence to none but himself as he moved to offer his reply to the boy's performance. It wouldn't take long for Nibui to recognize that Kyomu was no longer present before him, in fact, he had not been for some time. Moving, accelerating attacking and moving still, altering the cadence of his steps enough that his image remained visible for sometime, pausing only due to this abrupt shift in pressure, imposed by the examinee. His movements were limited, but not completely robbed from him. Fingers and hand shifting, causing Genzōken to appear to only
dip down towards the ground a inch or so a single time with the limping of his wrist, and concurrent with that dip, a thin pellucid ethereal line of sorts passed soundlessly through the space before Kyomu in a linear path. Concurrently a second line, just as immaterial as the other passed through the space — still in a linear path before the Captain, its path however horizontal, intersecting and moving in concert with its counterpart. Both just over thirty meters in length, traveling without opposition. The already abused ground, beaten and pulverized by Nibui's reiatsu would split cleanly along the path, the reiryoku terrorizing the valley would also be split wherever this cross shaped haze so passed, sparing both the valley and kyomu from further abuse, Nibui too would be rent asunder should he remain where he stood.
As swift as a fleeting passing thought they traveled — unimpeded by such hindrances as pressure, gravity and other material restrictions. Running in tandem with and behind this ghostly trail of severance was Kyomu, the pressure around him dispersed from the passing of the severing haze. A moment, an instant, a fraction of a second — none seemed to do the speed of the assault any justice. The instant Nibui recognized and perceived kyomu's displacement, his reiatsu would be severed along the path of these spectral passing boundaries, spiritual pressure rent asunder forced to disperse from such swift and infallible severance. He would be forced to make an instinctive choice move back while keeping his body and thus, his center of gravity lowered to avoid the horizontal passing, or move forward in kind by a meter to avoid being split in two. His choice was, irrelevant, Kyomu's blade passing through to cut along the path that Nibui needed to travel to avoid being split cleanly through. From right to left Genzōken soared, gliding seamlessly through the air, seeking to pass through the boy's spine and come cleanly out the other end, or so it appeared given the blade's trajectory. A meter, if not less of space was between them, Kyomu faced with the examinee's only operable arm. A suicide attempt perhaps, as Nibui was certainly able to retaliate the moment his proctor dared enter so close a range, and towards his current sword arm to boot. It mattered not, a boundary also passed in a space two meters from Nibui's back, severing that path of retreat, perceivable only after perceiving Kyomu's initial passing slash upon his person, the Captain appearing to be behind Nibui while still occupying the space beside him.
While the Kyomu at Nibui's 9 O'Clock was cleaving horizontally, the Kyomu at his 6 O' Clock was swinging vertically, blade still in right hand descending effortlessly towards the boy's skull to split him down the middle, bound by neither weight, nor gravity, nor pressure or friction. Running synchronously was a third blade arcing across Nibui's chest, a
third Kyomu appearing at the boy's 3 O'Clock. Neither of the Captain's trio of images held any discernible presence, their attacks prepared to dance through him the moment anything is recognized amiss, all running seemingly concurrent with one another.
Perhaps Nibui could display some level of speed equal to or higher than what he had used before when seeking to evade the rather conspicuous assault from Kyomu? An attempt could be made, but unfortunately for him Kyomu would not allow him to evade him so easily. He had not given chase before as there was no need to, it was never from a lack of ability. As great and powerful as Nibui's reiryoku was, it betrayed his movements, his actions, and his position regardless of the speed of his expedition. The moment he moves to distance himself, Kyomu would pursuit him with greater fervor, his false image left to linger behind with Nibui's, should the boy opt to indulge such thoughts.
The boy was blessed with tremendous amounts of reiryoku, and as a result almost unimaginable reiatsu, surely he could use that to tilt the proverbial scales in his favor. That too would be a short sighted ploy. He had used that little trick with his reiatsu twice now against Kyomu, even if he could exert power grander and more devastating than both prior displays Kyomu would not allow it. The moment his reiatsu even slightly fluctuated the Captain would move to rend it asunder once more and continue to press his attack.
What of the path ahead? His Three, Six and Nine O'Clock were all covered, being fiercely assaulted — simultaneously with one another based on perception. His Twelve O'Clock remained seemingly free and unobstructed. If the path behind, left or right was cut off, then ahead seemed the likely course of action. As obvious as it seemed, still there lurked a sense of foreboding about such a laid out path. One could practically see the image of their body being bisected the moment they ventured beyond three meters, an inexplicable feeling. Regardless, a choice needed to be made, and it needed to be made quick. Nibui had launched his attack, committed to the swing and was unopposed by his target in that regard. He had released his mental and emotional inhibitions restraining his power, focusing it upon that same target, his current source of misery. Though Kyomu was unable to restrain his voice from the sudden pressure that Nibui had exerted, he was trained and disciplined enough to continue his mission by hook or by crook, that same grunt though announcing both his discomfort, pain and momentary location, would also be the auditory marker for Nibui to find some path of escape. Witnessing or perceiving one Kyomu, meant being flanked on three fronts, seemingly simultaneously. From the beginning to even now, Nibui had committed to two things; the arcing swing of his sword and the prideful display of spiritual pressure. Though the Eleventh Squad had gained a reputation for being sword swinging simpletons, surely a man aspiring to reign over such a rag tag group could display something more than this. Such were the thoughts and beliefs of Captain Mukuro.