Shinigami Chronicles
Act 1: Hollow Eater
Chapter 11: Interdiction
Somewhere deep beneath the surface of the earth, there flickered the shadows of 100 ground incised katanas as a silver haired man darted to and fro between them, his austere countenance barely illuminated by the wavering torchlight that wreathed the area. The warrior's hands and arms were mere blurs of motion as he drew each sword he found within his reach, grasping just long enough to lift them into the air, letting his momentum carry them along with him as he moved. Some he would choose to strike with, while others he would grasp and relaunch in mid-air to continue with him as he made his way towards the next buried blade. Still others he would let fall, thrusting themselves into the ground as the very earth became their sheath.
Kyouren smiled to as he watched the spectacle of blades. No matter how many times he saw it, Mifune's routine practice regimen was a wonder to behold. There were very few humans, even amongst those who trained in the martial soul arts, who could move the way Mifune did. Certainly not while keeping a physical body in the process. Even the Shinigami of the old Soul Society had to leave their physical bodies to reach full speed without sacrificing some level of control. Then again it made sense that he was an outlier in that regard. As soul society's only premortem Gotei division captain, Mifune had to be able to go toe to toe with enemies of both the physical and spiritual variety. His unit in particular had a specific edge against the witches and monsters it was instantiated to deal with. The 14th division, closed soul crisis response.
Those were the days.
As Kyouren found a large stone to lean upon and watch his old captain in action, a familiar voice came from just beside him. "An astounding display, is it not?"
Kyouren blinked looking back from his perch to reply to the diminutive manservant, only to find nothing there. "You're still hanging around?" Kyouren asked as he continued to scan the area for the illusive little man. "You wanna cut it out with the whole blind spot thing?"
"You'd forgotten I was here?" Butler said with a small laugh "Perhaps I should not have spoken then."
Kyouren felt a hand press into the small of his back as the illusive manservant continued. "Go on, say hello. I'm sure you two have much to catch up on."
Kyouren rolled his eyes as he made his way down to Mifune's training area. No doubt, he was going to be the focus of Butler's attention for the remainder of his time at Arachne's castle. At least until the others arrived. Kyouren smiled. Maybe then he'd get a moments peace from the annoying little manservant.
When Kyouren was within several meters of Mifune's training area, the silver haired warrior's dance of 100 blades came to an abrupt halt, nine of the ten blades he had in the air about him at the time sheathing themselves in the ground as he caught the tenth in hand.
"Kyouren." Mifune murmured as he cast a watchful eye towards his once subordinate, resting his katana upon his shoulder. "This is unexpected."
"Aw come on! Not you too!" Kyouren cried, "A guy disappears for a couple centuries and suddenly everyone thinks he's up to something!"
Mifune turned to face Kyouren full on, his severe gaze piercing straight through the laid back dual swordsman. "You aren't?" Mifune queried darkly.
Kyouren reached for the back of his neck uncomfortably. "Well, I'm not…" he stammered "That is, uh…"
He'd forgotten just how daunting his old captain's gaze could be. "I'm not really the planning type."
Kyouren grinned "Just kinda do what I'm told!" he shrugged "You know how it is."
Mifune frowned. "So you're on contract too."
Kyouren paused a moment, crossing his arms. "I guess you could call it that." He tilted his head thoughtfully. "More like honor bound."
"Hm." Mifune replied. "You've changed."
"A couple centuries can do that to a guy." Kyouren said with a good natured smile. "You haven't though." he shook his head. "Just as harsh as ever." Kyouren continued with a chuckle. "You always did take after Byakuya."
"Kuchiki Byakuya." Mifune corrected.
"Whatever," Kyouren returned with a throwaway gesture, "Not like it matters what you call him now. Y'know, since he's dead-dead."
Mifune shook his head "And that is why he didn't take you on as his student."
"Sure." Kyouren remarked "It wasn't a lack of talent or anything silly like that…"
The edge of Mifune's lips turned upward ever so slightly at Kyouren's statement. "That may have also played a part."
"You're not supposed to agree with me that easily!" Kyouren said with an exaggerated frown. The expression was shortlived though, Kyouren smirking as he continued. "You haven't changed a bit Cap."
Whatever semblance of mirth that Mifune may have been registering at that moment fell away as the silver haired warrior moved to the center of the training area where a well-worn canvas bag lay upon the ground, a plethora of sword sheaths poking out of it.
"Why are you here Kyouren?" Mifune asked as he hoisted the bag's strap up onto his shoulder.
"I dunno," Kyouren replied with a shrug "To say hello I guess? The gal who sent me here didn't give me any explicit orders. Just said I 'ought to show up' before she did."
Mifune's eyes narrowed at Kyouren's non-answer, the silver haired warrior pausing the process of gathering up his swords to give the dual swordsman a dark glare. "No one ever appears 'just to say hello' in our line of work." Mifune's expression eased after a moment. "Although, that's never stopped you from doing so before."
"What can I say?" Kyouren grinned "I like talking to people. Especially old friends."
"Hm." Mifune murmured as he knelt down and inspected a blade he'd dislodged from the ground. "I suppose that would mean you're in contact with a few."
"Just some of the other guys from our division." Kyouren said with a smirk "You know, the ones that survived."
"As far as I was aware, everyone else died in the revolt." Mifune replied as he stood, blade still in hand, "Including you, Kyouren."
"I got lucky." Kyouren noted with a wink. "Me, Vlad, Zak, we all got lucky."
"The Gorgon Mother saved you." Mifune's eyes narrowed. "That's why you're honor-bound to her."
"…Something like that." Kyouren replied, idly scratching the back of his neck again. "Doesn't hurt that she's pretty nice when you get to know her."
Mifune said nothing to this, moving to pick up the last of his blades when the weapon lifted out of its earthen sheath of its own accord, awkwardly rocking through the air as it moved towards the silver haired warrior's open hand.
"Mifune?" Kyouren asked cocking his head in confusion. "How are you doing that?"
Mifune smiled warmly, kneeling down to accept the sword as he dropped a hand onto some invisible object. "Thank you, Angela."
As Mifune said this, the invisible object unveiled its true form; a tiny little girl of auburn hair, whose countenance bore an expression of genuine delight at the silver haired warrior's approval. The warrior ruffled the child's hair as he sheathed the last of his hundred swords with his free hand.
"Wait..." Kyouren started, his look of confusion more than slightly increased. "Is that your kid?"
"Yes" Mifune answered with a nod.
"So…" Kyouren continued with an eyebrow raised in query. "Who's the mother?"
"I don't know." Mifune replied simply
"You don't know the mother of your own kid?!" Kyouren exclaimed. "What kind of a dad are you!?"
Angela darted behind Mifune's leg when Kyouren raised his voice, the little witchling peeking out from behind the silver haired warrior with a surprisingly resolute gaze.
"I'm not a dad." Mifune returned.
"The hell you're not!" Kyouren retorted "How can you possi—Ow!"
The wind broken swordsman cried as he felt the distinct pain of a tiny foot colliding with his shin. He looked down to find Angela glaring up at him with the same resolution she'd had from behind Mifune's leg.
"Don't bully Fune Fune!" Angela scolded, fully prepared to deliver another forceful reprimand.
Kyouren opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it, pursing his lips in pouty annoyance as he looked back to Mifune.
"You adopted her, didn't you?" Kyouren asked flatly.
"I chose to be her gaurdian." Mifune corrected. "Until she comes of age."
"Heh, heh" Kyouren chuckled as he noticed that Angela had disappeared from view again. "You always did have a soft spot for kids."
Mifune's expression darkened at Kyouren's statement, a muted "Hm" serving as the warriors reply
Kyouren blinked in trepidatious puzzlement as Mifune passed him by in silence.
"Was it something I said?" Kyouren murmured to himself, turning to follow Mifune back to Arachne's castle, as a certain miniscule butler furtively fell in line behind them all.
[[[]]]
"Sound control and teleportation," Ichigo growled into his cellphone as he rushed up the narrow path out of the cavern that housed Death's quarantine facility and up to the top of the canyon in which it was interred. "How does that even work?"
"You mean the fact that she displayed two different abilities at once?" Sid's voice answered from the other side of the line, "I thought it wasn't that strange to see that sort of thing with hollows and shinigami."
"Maybe from a trained shinigami, or a long lived hollow." Ichigo replied "And even then not all at once. A sheering soul without any sort of shikai or bankai training shouldn't be able to display more than one ability, much less two at the same time."
"Huh," Sid replied "Is Soul with you?"
"Soul?" Ichigo murmured as he reached the top of the path and scanned the dusty expanse before him. "No, I haven't seen him since Maka escaped. Here's hoping she didn't get a hold of him…"
"Did Maka have a scythe with her when she escaped?" Sid asked
"Yeah."
"Ichigo, that scythe was Soul."
The ex-shinigami stopped running, dropping the phone from his ear to draw an exasperated hand down his face before returning to the call. "Did I mention I hate how weird this world is now?"
"I kinda figured that from the way you always glare at the sun." Sid's amused smile was audible in his reply. "Anyway, as his meister, Maka would have the ability to resonate with and use Soul. Although, if he resisted she'd have a rough time of it."
"So which ability is his?" Ichigo asked, his expression darkening, "Teleportation or Sound control?"
"Well, I can't say that anyone has ever seen him do either." Ichigo could hear Sid's thoughtful frown as the zombie continued his postulation "Although, sound does make sense considering his history."
"His history?" Ichigo said "What kind of…" Ichigo trailed off as he caught sight of an open cab jeep adorned with the shibusen insignia zooming off to the east at reckless speeds. "Wow. I'm impressed Sid. You've already got somebody on this."
"What?" the zombie replied in confusion "I mean yes, I've already deployed someone to intercept her, but they shouldn't have crossed paths with you yet."
Ichigo's eyes narrowed "Is that so?" the ex-shinigami muttered, "Death deployed another operative without letting you know?"
"It wouldn't be the first time." Sid answered. "Although this still seems strange, and I've always been the kind of man that hedges his bets. At least, that's the kind of man I was. I'll need you to catch up to them Ichigo. We don't want this getting any more complicated than it already has."
"Yeah…" Ichigo replied with a resigned sigh. If he knew anything about soul related crises, they always got worse before they got better. It was just a matter of how or why. Even if one had all the soul energy in the world at their disposal, there were some things that even a Shinigami of the highest order couldn't control.
"Well," Sid noted from the other side of the line "I'd better get back to recon. Good luck, Ichigo."
"Wait, Sid I don't—" Ichigo started as the "call ended" tone droned into his ear. "—know how I'm going to catch up to them…" the old swordsman sighed as he pocketed the cellphone. "So now what?" Ichigo murmured as he scanned his surroundings once more.
There weren't too many options available to him at the moment. Having rode out here with Soul on his motorcycle he didn't have an immediate method of transportation. Of course, being one of Death's facilities, there probably had to be a set of jeeps or buggies of some sort for him to borrow. Of course that would mean finding their keys…
Ichigo scowled in frustration at the notion of how much time it would take to find a vehicle, rifling through his brain for another quicker option. He didn't get much time to do so however, as his train of thought was interrupted by a distinctly feminine voice shouting from behind him.
"Hey, Pumpkin Head!"
The old swordsman whirled about to face the source of the call, irksome confusion written in every facet of his expression. "What the he—" He started before catching sight of whomever it was that had just insulted him.
To be sure, Ichigo didn't really have a notion of what he would find when he turned about. Suffice it to say he was unprepared for the voluptuous and rather provocatively dressed woman that he laid eyes upon. She sat sidesaddle upon what appeared to be a giant floating pumpkin, her eyes hidden underneath the shadow of a wide-brimmed spindle topped hat. She smiled mischievously as the irritation in Ichigo's voice drained, leaving only tones of confusion in its wake as he trailed off.
The woman tilted her hat up to unveil her impish gold colored eyes as her self-satisfied smile broadened, betraying her amusement at the old swordsman's reaction. She chuckled briefly before beckoning Ichigo toward her. "Come on," She started. "we have to hurry if we want to catch up to Maka."
Ichigo shook his head to recover from his initial surprise. "Are you the other operative?" Ichigo asked as he approached the pumpkin rider. "The one Sid sent?"
"I'm here to help." The woman answered simply. Her expression sobered a bit as she patted the space beside her on her pumpkin charabanc. "Maka's going to get into some real trouble if we don't catch up to her soon right?"
"Right" Ichigo replied darkly as he hurried to the woman's side, finding it a bit awkward to get himself situated on her flying vegetable. "They headed northeast. Probably toward Death Valley Junction. It's the nearest town before Las Vegas." His eyes narrowed in resolute resolve "She'll head there first to feed and gain strength before tackling a large city like Vegas."
"mm-hm." The pumpkin rider murmured with a nod and a smirk. "Better hold on to something."
"Hold on to what?" Ichigo started as the pumpkin began to rise. With no apparent handholds or other forms of gripping mechanisms, Ichigo found himself still scrounging for something, anything to hold on to as the pumpkin rider murmured a soliloquy about pumpkins and subsonic speeds under her breath.
They lurched forward, Ichigo getting thrust backward by the sudden speed increase. Reacting just in time, the old swordsman clung to the nearest thing he could: the pumpkin rider herself. Ichigo's legs billowed wildly behind him in the wind, as he held tightly to her midriff with his forearms. The woman smiled to herself, relishing the feel of the old swordsman's grasp and hair against her side.
"Nyao" she murmured contentedly as they shot across the cloudless noon day sky
[[[]]]
Stein allowed himself a private smile as he watched the wavelength and frequency readouts on the monitor of his computer, the residual brightness from its screen providing the only appreciable amount of light in the room. The number of unique patterns inside it had finally come down to one, the others all eventually spiking and dying before adding their energy to that of the rest. With each death, the amount of time it took for an individual pattern to expire lengthened, while each of the remaining patterns' frequencies increased in overall intensity. Eventually only two remained, flaring in defiance of each other for two full days before one finally subsumed the other.
"And now, here you are, all the stronger for your desperate struggle." Stein murmured in the act of turning his gaze from the readouts to the observation unit within which the still grey soul was held, a lit cigarette in hand as he sat back in his swivel chair. "Yet you still don't seem to register any form of sentience outside of possessing a stable frequency and wavelength. But..." He took a long drag on his cigarette, the sheen of his glasses hiding his pensive stare behind reflections of graphs and charts from his computer. "I can tell you're alive." A languid breath of nicotine fumes escaped his lips as he began to crank his head screw in pensive reverie. "No doubt you can probably hear me right now." He tilted his head marginally to the left, pausing in his idle twinings while murmuring ponderously. "If only you could tell me just what you are."
The soul did naught to answer, the slow flux of its dim radiance remaining unchanged as the silence that pervaded the rest of Stein's basement lab. The same, however, could not be said for the machinations of the stitch-skinned researcher's mind.
"If it were that easy to divine, you wouldn't be interested." a familiar serpentine voice chuckled "The unknown is what you live for."
Stein frowned. He should have taken Marie's advice about the lights.
"And yet you didn't." The Medusa in his head whispered, the fleeting breath of her voice playing tantalizingly across the mad scientist's ear. "You never will." It continued, the cool familiar touch of the snake witch's hand ensconcing itself about Stein's chin. "You don't want to."
She was right of course. How could she not be? The woman whose cool grip was becoming more tactual by the second, was born of his own mind after all. Born of a darkness that he could not so easily dispel.
"No" He murmured as he leaned back in his seat, noting with some disdain, the contentment he felt at the realization that his chair was starting to feel like her. "I don't" His head lolled back, coming to rest in the imagined snake witch's bosom. "But I do."
"You delude yourself, Stein." The snake witch replied, "To resist me. To resist this." She murmured, somehow coiling around him as she spoke. "Is to resist yourself. To resist who and what you are."
Stein frowned, restraining the unbidden perverse smile that tugged at the edge of his lips. "I am Stein." He stated, the declaration coming out far weaker than he'd intended. "I am a meister, a teacher, a researcher." He felt himself sinking into her, becoming part of her as he struggled to finish. "I am a member of Shibusen."
The mad scientist's muse chuckled knowingly at Stein's anemic rejoinder. "You are Stein" she murmured enticingly into his ear, "And all that you are." She continued further coiling about him and presenting her eyes of murderous mischief before the ensnared meister. "Is insane." She chuckled as she leaned in closer to him, brushing past Stein's cheek to find his ears. "All that you are." she whispered in a quiet sultry voice. "Is mine."
And, for a brief moment, all that he knew was her. There was no world around him. No basement enclosure wherein his thoughts could run free. No soul irradiated tools to assuage his curiosity. Not even the chair in which he sat remained within his perception. There was only this woman of black chaos. This cunning serpent for whom he so yearned.
And then, as suddenly as it had begun, the shroud of languid insanity dissipated leaving a dazed and somewhat confused Stein slumped limply in his chair. He laid there for a time, acclimatizing himself to his surroundings once more as the dizziness in his head faded. Only the confusion remained when Stein finally managed to sit up in his chair.
This time's encounter with the snake witch had been a fairly serious mental break. Though he was glad that he'd been able to come out of it, he was quite certain there was no way for him to have returned to his senses without some sort of outside interference. Yet there was no one else here. At the very least, if someone was here, they hadn't bothered to turn the lights on when they came in.
The notion of going and flipping on the lights himself was still fresh on the stitch-skinned scientist's mind when he realized that he was holding something round and warm in his hands, and had been since he'd returned from his short sojourn of madness. Surprised and, frankly, somewhat disappointed in his own lack of self-awareness, Stein turned his gaze to his hands.
There resting quietly, was the grey closed soul he'd been studying naught but a few moments before he'd been whisked away by the apparitions of his own mind. Curious interest registered in Stein's eyes as he raised the soul up for a more in depth visual appraisal. Something about its warmth felt very familiar to him, although he couldn't quite place why.
A question for another time perhaps. At the moment, Stein was more concerned with one thing: Turning on the damn lights.
[[[]]]
Spirit Frowned as he brought his jeep to a skidding halt, kicking up dirt from the dusty cement that sat surrounded by a modestly sized white clay caulked one-story hotel. The entries to its many rooms were held within a long foyer, whose parapets' many arched openings fed into the parking lot in which Spirit now stood. The grounds of both the foyer and lot were littered with soulless bodies in varying states of mutilation and injury, the doors and windows to many of the hotel's rooms left ajar in the arid desert breeze that had just begun to blow.
Spirit's expression darkened even further as he scanned the area for anything even remotely resembling a survivor. Unfortunately, the only thing he caught wind of was the twisted wavelength his daughter was currently emanating.
It was coming from a dusty sunbaked white building just to the east of the red haired scythe. The building's stylized exterior gave it the appearance of an old mission chapel from the 1830s. Standing one story taller than the foyer that lead to it, the name "Armagosa Opera House" was emblazoned on black and white varnished wood just above its main entryway.
Spirit could sense his daughter inside. Yet, even now, he couldn't quite tell what was wrong with her. The pulse of her soul frequency felt weaker than normal, but was at the same time faster than the usual pace it had when she was at rest. The rate he felt from her at the moment suggested she was in the midst of a soul resonance. But there was something different about it. Different from the times he'd watched her perform the technique with Soul in the past. In those times Maka's soul had felt more full and robust, but now Spirit was registering something like… fragmentation?
"Maka" Spirit murmured as he stared at the building's entrance for a long moment. "What happened to you?"
As Spirit said this, he caught a brief movement in the corner of his eye. Whirling about and forming the steel haft of a reaping scythe with his right forearm, he turned just in time to see a black robed figure in a white mask rushing toward him with what appeared to be a cleaver.
The masked man started a wild vertical swing with his blade, to which Spirit responded by stepping deep into his opponent's range and grasping the attacker's striking arm mid swing. Using the masked man's momentum against him, Spirit forced him into an off balance stumble, striking the man hard in the back of the head with his steel scythe haft.
Not taking any time to confirm if he had fully taken out the would be attacker, Spirit quickly scanned his surroundings, catching sight of three other black robed figures wearing the same style of mask as the first, approaching from his right, left and back in a semi-circle.
The masks they wore were simple, noseless, and circular with "O" shaped ocular sockets and jawless rectangular mouths. Spirit recognized the design.
"Arachnephobia?" he murmured as he chose his next target. "What are they doing here?"
The red haired scythe didn't get to ponder this question for long as the three robed figures all lunged towards him at once, cleaving blades upraised.
"Don't have time for this." Spirit muttered as he stepped backwards into one of the robed attackers, ducking low for a brief moment before turning and sweeping his opponent's leg with his steel scythe haft. As the would-be attacker tripped over Spirit's haft, the red haired scythe moved behind his opponent, catching the back of his robe and pulling him into a headlock.
The two remaining attackers hesitated briefly in their approach, unsure of how to assault their target without harming their comrade.
Sighting the hesitation of his two remaining attackers, Spirit took the initiative; shoving his meatshield into the attacker on the right, while moving forward to meet the one on his left, partially forming his left forearm into a portion of a black scythe edge in the process.
As the combatants on Spirit's right collided into each other unceremoniously, the attacker on the left, (whom Spirit was approaching) attempted to catch the red-haired scythe with a swing of his cleaver. Deflecting the opponent's weapon with his scythe arm, Spirit proceeded to tackle the robed man, hammering him hard in the head with his shaft arm just as they hit the ground.
Rising to a standing position above the now unconscious man, Spirit turned an annoyed expression toward his two remaining attackers, who, having just managed to disentangle themselves from each other, were just rising to their feet. From their body language, Spirit could tell they were on edge. Perhaps now he had a way to end this a bit more quickly.
"You two are standing between a papa and his little girl," Spirit started with a half scowl "You can leave now or…" He dragged his scythe arm across his haft arm, producing the rough peal of honed steel on steel as his expression shifted to a full scowl. "You can find out just how vicious a desperate father can really be."
At this the masked men briefly looked to each other in silent conference. It appeared that they were agreed on a mutual lack of interest in finding out what Spirit's definition of "vicious" was, as it only took a moment for them to decide to drop their weapons and flee the scene.
Spirit smiled to himself, "Good answer." His smile faded as he approached the entryway of the opera house once more. From what he could sense, Maka had exited soul resonance, her soul's frequency pulse having greatly slowed. Now that he was closer, he noticed what he was certain was Soul's demon weapon frequency as well, although he was unsure if he was in the same state that Maka was.
As the red-haired scythe made to rush the door he caught a brief flash of pink as he felt something shoot past and cut his cheek. Spirit winced in surprise at the sudden scratch, but hadn't the time to register what it was that struck him as he suddenly found himself in the center of a torrent of pink laceration, swirls of cutting shards churning about him, raining cuts upon the red-haired scythe from every angle.
Curved blades bristled from every angle of Spirit's body as he formed as much steel as he could manage, doing his best to protect his vitals from the storm of deadly cherry blossom shards. The effort proved effective as Spirit held fast, many of the blossom shards pinging off of his makeshift armor of blades, though a small few managed to push through the tiny openings in his defense.
Then, almost as suddenly as it began, the storm of shards abated, dispersing out in every direction. In that moment Spirit focused his senses, keeping his bladed defenses up as he caught wind of what he was certain was his attacker approaching from behind. Turning about, Spirit briefly caught sight of a man with slicked back black hair in a white edged mauve blazer, approaching slowly as the storm of blossom shards arced around behind him, forming a thick rollicking mass of pink death.
The red-haired scythe threw up his arms in preparation for a counter attack as he launched himself at the sharp dressed man in a forearm lead tackle. Sure enough, the mass of blossom shards surged forward to catch the red-haired scythe in mid-launch. The shrapnel laden clump filtered through his defenses, piercing and slicing what exposed flesh lay underneath. This didn't, however, stop Spirit's momentum.
The Red-Haired Scythe successfully caught his opponent in the chest with the many blades that extended from his forearms taking him down to the ground with the force of the attack. This procured a grunt from the sharp dressed man as he shifted his body with Spirit's momentum, redirecting the force of the red-haired scythe's tackle into a leg assisted throw, successfully dislodging Spirit's blades from the sharp dressed man's chest.
Spirit retracted his scythe blades back into his body to ease the act of hitting the ground in a roll, quickly returning to his feet. He caught sight of the sharp dressed man rising from the ground in casual manner, the wounds in his chest and tears in his outfit slowly mending themselves.
Spirit's eye's narrowed, an expression of simultaneous curiosity and irritation forming on his visage. "An immortal demon weapon?" he murmured, "Have to attack the soul directly then…" As he said this Spirit transformed both of his forearms into scythes, preparing himself for another attack from the slick haired man's blossom shard mass.
…An attack that never came.
Instead the man dusted himself off as the blossom shards swirled together to form a white overcoat which he caught in one hand and draped over his shoulder, watching Spirit expectantly all the while.
No.
Not watching him.
Looking past him.
The realization came too late as Spirit felt a rather large weapon strike him hard in the small of his spine, launching him forward several feet by the sheer force of the attack. Caught off guard, Spirit was unable to fully roll out of this attack, hitting the concrete of the parking lot on his side and sliding a good ways before coming to a halt. His wounds from then blossom shards stung profusely, many of them having been widened by his rough sojourn across the lot. The sand that was starting to get in them was more than just a little bit unpleasant.
Spirit grimaced as he propped a hand on the ground to try and raise himself, attempting to catch his breath. He turned his eyes upward during the process, finding that his new attacker, who now towered above him, was a familiar face.
"Apologies" Vlad said as he lifted what appeared to be a blade covered in rust hued scales and to his shoulder and crouched to Spirit's level. "But I am thinking you will survive this."
Spirit had little time to balk in confusion at the statement as the giant's turning, rising strike that followed was swift and merciless. "Do not worry" Spirit heard Vlad call as he was launched into the air, his consciousness slowly ebbing away. "Your daughter will be in good hands." Spirit scowled as he tried his hardest to fight the tide of dark paralysis that was sweeping through his body but to no avail. The red-haired Scythe fell to darkness and the ground, hearing Vlad make a candid note in those last moments of fading consciousness.
"She is no longer a 'most people person' you see."
[[[]]]
"Shinigami-sama, we need to talk."
"You sound flatter than usual Stein." Death noted, his ocular sockets arching inquisitively. "Has something happened?"
Stein adjusted his glasses, his lips forming a grim line as he replied. "Another mental break." He pulled out his box of cigarettes, registering some annoyance at the fact that he was on his last one. "It was pretty serious this time." The screw-headed scientist rifled through his pockets for a pack of matches, only to find that they too had been in constant use today. Not one left. He frowned in disappointed resignation, putting the unlit cigarette in his mouth. It hung limply from his lips as he continued. "Lost track of my surroundings."
"Waking dreams." Death noted. He offered Stein one of his disembodied hands, upon whose thumb was a blue flame. "About dissection?"
"Well there was that." Stein answered as he leaned in close to the flame to light his cigarette. He took a long drag on the tiny tobacco roll, letting blue tinted smoke escape from his mouth in a calming sigh. "But mostly it was the witch." He frowned, remembering the cold touch of Medusa's fingers on his neck. "Still got her on the brain it seems."
"Hmm" Death murmured, "I'd hoped that the symptoms from your encounters with her would have begun to subside by now." His ocular sockets narrowed in thought "The fact that they are only increasing with time is worrisome." He shook his head. "Stein, if this continues, I'll have to relieve you of your current research assignments."
Stein let another cloud of fumes escape his lips. "That might be needed." He replied "But, that's not what I came here to talk about." He took the cigarette between his index and ring finger "It's about the gray soul."
"Hmm?" Death's ocular sockets widened curiously. "Have you discovered something about its composition?"
"I have some theories that you'll see in my report. But, they're just that." The screw-headed scientist took another drag on his cigarette. "Theories."
"I see." Death replied, "Do you need more examination materials, then?"
"What I need." Stein answered frankly "Is information. This soul is different from a lot of others I've seen." His hand found its way to his head screw as he continued. "I think this one is aware of its surroundings." The hand began to crank away at the screw as the soul scientist spoke pensively. "An interesting thought, considering it should be dormant without a body to host it." He tilted his head in a curious manner. "It doesn't seem to be able to do much, but..." He smirked. "I don't think that's for lack of trying."
"Ah." Death replied simply. He clasped his enormous hands behind his back, staring up at the imperceptible ceiling of his domain. A few moments passed while the masked being stood deep in thought. Stein made no move to rush him, continuing to crank his head screw as he waited.
Death did not turn his gaze to his once student when he finally spoke. "Stein, how familiar are you with the concept of the open soul?"
Stein stopped turning the screw. "I've done a bit of study on them." He shoved his hands into his pockets. "Entirely academic though. Never had the chance to actually work with and examine one personally." He favored Death with a querying raise of an eyebrow. "As I recall, they're a bit rare, if not already extinct."
"They are." Death said, "Extinct that is." He returned his gaze to the screw-headed scientist. "At least, they should be."
Stein chuckled "This is some of that 'need to know basis' information Sid's been avoiding telling me?"
"Yes" Death answered simply. "And it looks like you to need to know."
[[[]]]
Notes From Days Long Past
Damage Report.
We really cut it close this time. Had I been a minute later we'd have lost one of them for sure. Then again, they don't call me the goddess of flash for nothing. Never late for anything but my own death, but you already knew that.
As far as I can tell the kids are mostly fine. A little shaken up but otherwise in surprisingly high spirits. I think Tatsuski was happy to be the hero for once. It warmed this humble mentor's heart to see her doing her best to keep up with Chad, Orehime, and Ishida (She only slowed them down a little). It's only a matter of time before she catches up to them. If for no other reason than the fact that I know she wants that more than anything else. If I were sidelined as much as she was, I'd probably want the power of a frontliner just as badly. The look she gets in her eyes when she trains reminds me of how determined Ichigo was when I was training him. There's a slight difference though. Ichigo's eyes said something closer to "I need this damn it!" Tatsuski's on the other hand sound more like "I'm gonna earn this damn it!" She's just about as hard headed as he was with a little more to prove. Bit of a better listener though. Now if only she could convince Keigo to take some lessons too…
He was happier than anyone else to make it out of Szlayel's lab alive. Poor kid. He's overflowing with loyalty, but doesn't have the confidence to follow through and make it a strength. Not that he didn't display courage out there in Hueco Mundo. It's not everyday someone stalls an arrancar with wandering witless banter. Miziuro tells me he's never seen anyone run their mouth so desperately. I'm probably going to have to start mandatory lessons for the both of them soon.
Miziuro's on the exact opposite side of the spectrum. Even after being kidnapped he apparently stayed cool and calm all throughout. At least that's what Keiko says. From what I can tell of it, it's almost as though he found his fear emotion and choked into submission. Either that or he's resigned himself to accept whatever fate comes his way. I don't like either explanation, but if I had to pick one, I'd hope for the latter. The former reminds me a bit too much of the way Ichimaru Gin operated. Miziuro's little friend really came through this time as well. Yeah, Keiko the little witch of crows. By the fact that she was able to teleport herself and four others out of harm's way, it's obvious that her abilities are growing faster than the others. That said, the other's powers are starting to emerge as well. They're going to need to know just what they are soon, and, for their sakes, I'm going to give them at least a little bit of that information. What they are. What they can do. Not the gruesome history of course. At least not yet. And no you don't get a say in this, seeing as you're still way over there in Chile.
Speaking of which, Chad wants to know if you've found anyone else like him over there. You know, living arrancar? I know his "Abuelo" was a member of the soul society down in those parts. Do you know if he's still around down there? I'm a little doubtful, seeing as he gave Chad that keep sake coin. Not the sort of thing you do when you expect to see someone again. Especially when you're on the short list to be "purged". That said you did come across Julian when you took that trip to Europe so who am I to say?
Just so you know, we've added another thirteen kids to our number since that mess in Hueco Mundo. If we didn't have that training space below the shop, it'd start feeling a bit crowded here. Still, with the way these kids are starting to turn up, we're not going to be able to keep this a secret from our soul society for long. I may have been able to keep this up for a few decades, but I'm one powerful ex-shinigami with heavy training in stealth and the soul arts, as well as a mad scientist in my back pocket. We're going to have to broach the subject of them to the Society at some point. I know you're already working on a plan for this, and I've got a few ideas as well. We'll trade thoughts when you're back in town.
Don't take too long,
Yoruichi
Been awhile hasn't it?
Thanks for your patience and continued readership.
It really does mean a lot to me.
So…
Was it enjoyable?
Or perhaps not?
Either way let me know.
Until next time dear readers.
