Psych.
Sorry, folks, Gin isn't the only invader in the scenario. Don't worry, you'll have Gin vs. Renji next week, I promise.
Also, to resolve a canon ambiguity which has always bugged me, Sōgyo no Kotowari is a daishō pair in sealed form in this universe, same as Katen Kyōkotsu.
X-X-X
The Striking Snake
Ch17
Ryoka, Defeated
X-X-X
"This way looks clear." Chizuru scanned the road ahead. "I don't sense anything, at least."
Tatsuki nodded, following.
A strange sort of a bond had formed between the former mortal enemies. With Orihime's absence, Tatsuki was finding Chizuru was actually moderately level-headed and reasonable; though obviously no soldier, she was handling the fact that they were stranded in enemy territory better than most.
" 'Thirteenth Division - Central Offices,' " Tatsuki read, looking at the sign on the crossroads. "Well, the other option is the main barracks complex. I think I'd rather face pencil pushers than crack troops."
"No argument there." Chizuru looked down their chosen route, her eyes narrowing as she adjusted her glasses. "Hold up - I see three of them at the end of the street. They don't look ready for a fight, though."
"Don't worry. I got an idea," said Tatsuki, smirking.
X-X-X
The three unseated members of the thirteenth were slightly surprised to see another shinigami apparently escorting a struggling prisoner towards them.
"Hey! Come give me a hand, will you?"
The shinigami approached, slightly wary. The sudden and brutal outbreak of urban guerilla warfare had scared everyone with a shred of sense; it had been nearly a millennia since the Gotei Jūsan-Tai had been forced to fight on its home turf.
"I don't recognize you," said one of them suspiciously. "What division are you with?"
"Thirteenth, duh," she replied. "I'm new."
"Seat rank?"
"What do you mean?" The woman blinked in confusion. "Unseated, private first class. I said I was new."
"A newbie, fresh out of the academy managed to subdue one of the dreaded ryoka that are carving up the high-ranking officers?" The leader stepped forward. "You also have the reiatsu of a veteran. As sixth seat of the thirteenth, I hereby order you to surrender your weapon and stand dow- urk!"
He was silenced by a fist in his gut. Tatsuki proceeded to elbow him in the face, hard, and rip her zanpakutō from its sheath - just in time to parry an incoming blow, knocking it hard enough that the shinigami almost dropped his weapon.
"Shine, Getsurō!"
Chizuru, meanwhile, had summoned her visor as soon as Tatsuki had released her hands. Bony claws ripped into biceps, abdominal muscles and leg tendons. Her opponent quickly collapsed, incapacitated, into a pool of his own blood - with medical care he might survive, but hypovolemic shock acted quicker than many thought.
She turned to see Tatsuki punch the last shinigami so hard that his body blasted a hole in the wall beside them. Surprisingly, behind the wall appeared to be a verdant garden, seeming quite out of place in the fortified Seireitei.
Farther in, there was a pavilion built on stilts over a large Koi pond.
"What do you suppose all this is for?" Whispered Chizuru as they tiptoed forward. "It sure doesn't look very military..."
"Could be anything," muttered Tatsuki. "Stay alert."
Her point was driven home as the serenity of the garden was abruptly shattered by loud shouts from the pavilion. It sounded like a man and a woman, although from her tone and volume, that latter was certainly not intimidated.
The pair of almost hysterical voices quieted abruptly with an in-synch "apologies, sir!" And the faint sound of footsteps could be heard.
Tatsuki and Chizuru dashed for cover, but they were a second too late. "Hey! Who's there?" Shouted the woman, with just as much force as before. "I can feel you hiding there! Show yourselves!"
"Damn." Chizuru stood up, and Tatsuki hesitantly followed. "I bet it was me. That power-concealing is really tricky."
Tatsuki adopted a fighting stance, the metal of Getsurō gleaming around her hands and feet. "All right," she muttered. "If we have to fight, let's get this over with quickly."
The male shinigami - a tall man with impressively stiff hair - drew his own zanpakutō. "You dare intrude on this bastion of peace? Prepare to die, ryoka!"
The woman, who was much shorter and had rather unusual blonde hair in a military cut, seemed more hesitant - though just as belligerent. "Are you an idiot, Sentarō?" She yelled, as Chizuru stared wide-eyed. "The ryoka are not to be engaged lightly! One of them sent third seat Madarame to the emergency ward - are you saying you're better than Ikkaku?"
"What?!" Sentarō immediately forgot about the intruders. "I'm as good as any lieutenant! Certainly better than you, Kiyone!"
"Ikkaku was better than some lieutenants," Kiyone snapped back. "And no way are you better than me! You were just about to rush into a - "
"Please, desist."
As if by magic, the tired-sounding voice silenced the arguing shinigami instantly. "Apologies, sir!" They said in a much quieter tone, their heads suddenly bowed in contrition.
A third figure had emerged from the pavilion. The man was gaunt and thin, his shihakusō and full-sleeved haori hanging loosely from his frame. Though his eyebrows were a dark grey, the long and flowing hair on his head was a pristine white, as immaculate as fresh snow.
"Oh," he said, sounding faintly surprised. "Ryoka, here? I thought you had all landed in the eleventh division grounds. I didn't realize you split so far apart." He coughed.
"Captain! You should be resting!" Cried Kiyone. "You've had it worse than usual these last few weeks!"
"Leave these ryoka to me, sir," said Sentarō, a cocky tone in his voice. "I can handle a few kids alone - "
"No."
Sentarō looked back at the sick captain, disbelief on his face.
"You're dismissed, Kiyone, Sentarō. I will handle this personally."
Kiyone's eyes widened. "But, sir - !"
"A single ryoka managed to incapacitate the third seat of the eleventh. While I have every confidence in your abilities, it is a simple fact that neither you, nor any other third seats, compare to Madarame in swordsmanship." He coughed again. "Allowing you to fight two ryoka would be irresponsible of me as an officer. So, you are dismissed, soldiers."
The pair of shinigami slowly trudged away, their feet dragging as if they were walking through tar.
The white-haired man turned back to face Tatsuki and Chizuru. "I'm dreadfully sorry about that," he said. "Those two are my third seats, Kotetsu Kiyone and Kotsubaki Sentarō. I've needed two third seats to keep things together ever since my lieutenant passed away last century. They tend to be a little... um, zealous about their duty."
"Y- yeah," replied Chizuru nervously. "I, um, noticed..."
"Wait, that's it?" Tatsuki cut in, feeling bemused. "You dismissed your subordinates because you didn't think they could beat us, and now you want to make small talk?"
"Well, yes," the captain replied. "Why not? My name's Ukitake Jūshiro, by the way. Captain of the thirteenth."
"Aren't we enemies?" Tatsuki said, exasperated.
Jūshiro looked slightly crestfallen. "Well, I had hoped we could avoid all that," he replied. "If we actually came to blows I'd defeat both of you with nearly trivial effort anyway, and I prefer to avoid pointless battle. Couldn't we just take it easy for a while and pretend I defeated you already?"
"You seem very easygoing," said Chizuru warily. "I don't suppose I could convince you to let us go and meet up with our friends..."
"Ahh... no, sorry," Jūshiro replied. "While I am doing everything within my authority, and a few things outside my authority, to prevent Kuchiki-san's execution... well, even a captain cannot turn a blind eye to what are technically - no matter how noble their cause - terrorists and rogues running amuck in his division grounds."
Tatsuki's fist tightened inside its wolf-head casing. "Well then... I guess we're going to have to come to blows anyway," she said. "I may not have sworn a blood oath or anything, but there's no way I could back out now and still sleep at night."
Beside her, Chizuru summoned her mask and claws, raising the lethal bone weapons in preparation for battle. "I feel bad for beating on a sick man," she added, "but you haven't left us much choice."
"Oh dear." Jūshiro coughed violently, then straightened. "How unpleasant. Very well, if you insist."
With a fluid gesture of his left hand, he pulled loose the tie on his haori, letting it billow open - and reached his right hand to his obi, drawing the larger of his swords.
Tatsuki stared. Up until now, every shinigami she had seen had carried a single sword in their obi or on a baldric which, as she understood it, was always their zanpakutō. The weapons varied in size, from Gin's pocketknife to the nōdachi she had seen one patrolman with - but there had always been only one.
And yet in the captain's Obi, plain as day, were the large and small scabbards of a Samurai Daishō.
Jūshiro brought the sword up in a one-handed block. "Please, let us finish this quickly."
Tatsuki wasted no time. She swung as hard as she could in a vicious hook. With her arm's strength and durability augmented by her zanpakutõ's ability, the blow would have shattered the armour of a heavy battle tank.
The captain's sword was knocked back an inch, and no more.
Tatsuki scowled, and brought her other arm into an uppercut. She felt her hand stop again, and looked down - he had blocked with his wakizashi. She hadn't even seen him draw it.
She kicked forward, stomping at his ankle, but in doing so took pressure off his katana - allowing him to nimbly swing his foot away, step around her and bring his sword in a downward slash. Tatsuki was forced to step back and block with her left gauntlet.
"You do realize that I am the third best swordsman in soul society, right?" He said, stabbing with the wakizashi and almost impaling her then and there. "Even Shunsui can't beat me in a straight fight, although he's a more cunning strategist and tactician."
There was a flash-step, and suddenly he was behind her, his shorter blade striking down towards her shoulder. There was no way to move in time -
"Céro."
Jūshiro disappeared in another flash-step with only milliseconds to spare, as the bolt of red death shot through the air inches from Tatsuki's shoulders. The ray blasted another sizeable hole in the garden wall.
Jūshiro reappeared, coughing heavily. "Oh dear," he said again as he regained his composure. "You two are powerful. I was right to send my third seats away; they would have been badly hurt. And such powers! A hollow's Céro! How unique. However, this battle must end."
He extended his left arm, holding the wakizashi straight out to his left. The girls winced as a blast of reiatsu struck them like a sledgehammer.
"Waves, rise, and become my shield!"
His other arm rose, mirroring the wakizashi's position with the katana. The force of his reiatsu doubled, and Chizuru staggered.
"Lightning, strike, and become my sword!"
He brought the swords together, both pointing straight forward, and they abruptly changed. Their blades became of equal length, and odd backwards-curving tangs appeared on their backs. A red cord materialized between their hilts, with five strange pendants hanging from it.
"Sōgyo no Kotowari!"
There was a final flash of blue reiatsu as the unusually long shikai command completed, and this time Tatsuki staggered as far as Chizuru did.
In the blink of an eye, Jūshiro was behind Tatsuki, one of the blades raking across her exposed upper arm. He brought the other sword around -
"Céro!"
- and pointed it away from Tatsuki, towards Chizuru, and flash-stepped back to cover them both with the sword-point as the crimson death ray shot towards him.
His arms blurred - and then a blue Céro, much larger and brighter than Chizuru's red one, shot towards them.
They both crossed their arms, to little avail. Their armour, bone and metal alike, was shattered by the blast and they were sent flying. Both girls slammed heavily into the garden wall, leaving cracked dents.
With another flicker of blue light, Jūshiro dismissed his weapons' shikai and sheathed their sealed form. "Kiyone? Sentarō?" He called.
The two third seats flash-stepped into existence. "Yes, captain?" They said in unison.
"Of course you didn't go far," he said, rolling his eyes. He gestured to the stunned girls. "Please take these two to the barracks holding cells. See to it they are treated reasonably."
"Yes, captain!"
Jūshiro sighed. "Oh, and when you're done, please have someone bring tea to the pavilion," he said. "Tea always helps dismiss the dark thoughts of a battle. Dismissed."
X-X-X
Chad's armoured fist swung, and the energy blast scattered the shinigami he was facing like paper dolls. The kinetic shockwave struck the alley wall, causing a section to collapse.
"Owah?"
Chad paused. That was not the kind of voice one normally associated with hardened soldiers.
He peered through the gap to see one of the many barracks buildings. However, standing in a side-doorway of this one was a tiny girl of perhaps three and a half feet, at most - she looked less than eight years old. Her hair was a striking fluorescent pink.
"You're a Ryoka, aren't you?" She said.
With a start, Chad realized that she was wearing the full shihakusō (albeit at least two sizes too large for her) and that, dangling from a pink cord in her left hand, was the scabbard of a zanpakutō. It looked like a standard katana, but it must have been larger than a claymore to her tiny hands. Tied loosely around her left arm was a cloth strip with a badge fixed to it. The badge read "Jyū-ichi" in bold Kanji.
"Yeah," Chad replied. Was this little girl really a shinigami? She was barely more than an infant.
"Cool!" She said, enthused. "You ryoka are all really strong, right? Ken-chan really wants to fight the one that beat baldy. Did you beat baldy?"
Chad thought back. He didn't recall any notably hairless shinigami in his path. "I don't think so," he said.
"Well, I'm sure you're pretty strong anyway!" She squealed. Then her face abruptly fell. "Owah... Gramps is talking to the captains now," she said, disappointed. "Gramps doesn't like it when Ken-chan leaves early."
Chad's brow furrowed. Was she referring to her captain?
"Well, I'm sure he wouldn't mind me having fun on my own!" She clapped her hands. "I'm Kusajishi Yachiru, jyū-ichi-bantai fukutaicho! Want to play with me?"
Chad almost swallowed his tongue. This... child had just casually introduced herself as the lieutenant of an entire division. How could such a thing be possible?
"Play?" He said, cautiously. "What games?"
"We'll play my favourite game - the traditional game of the eleventh division! It's for two players, and the rules are easy." She drew her zanpakutō with one hand, the weapon looking monstrous in her tiny grip. "Actually, there's only one rule! When one player can't stand up, the other wins!"
Chad's eyes widened as he realized that the child had just challenged him to a duel.
"Uh... maybe we could play a different game."
Yachiru's eyes abruptly narrowed. "Well, you could play the game where you run away and I chase you, but that ends the same anyway," she said, almost purring.
Chad swallowed, instinctively falling into a fighting stance. Tiny or not, Yachiru was scary.
The girl giggled, and vanished. Chad tensed, swinging around as fast as he could -
There was a jarring clang as Yachiru's sword clashed against Chad's armour. The force of the blow almost knocked him off his feet - she apparently concealed the muscles of a weightlifter in her tiny frame. She pushed, ricocheted, and back-flipped in an impressive display of dexterity before landing perfectly.
"You're strong!" She giggled. "Apart from Yumi, most that are below fourth seat drop on my first blow!"
Chad furrowed his brow in concentration. His instinct was to fight soft because she was a child, but she had just made it clear that if he didn't bring his best she would tear him apart.
He swung, hard and fast. A plume of dust and rock chips filled the air as his fist smashed a crater into the flagstones.
"You're quick, too!" She giggled, from two feet to the left of where he had struck. "This is fun!"
She swung again, with brutal force. Chad was ready this time, however, and didn't stagger.
Yachiru twisted, handling her blade like an experienced swordmaster. Chad barely caught the blade on his elbow, narrowly escaping a blow which would have sliced him in half.
He grunted, recalling everything he knew about brawling. It was different in as much as his opponent had a sword instead of a knife or fists, and there was no silver snake at his back, but many principles remained the same.
As the tiny lieutenant swung again, Chad was ready. He blocked the blade with his armoured hand, grabbed, and twisted sharply.
He expected to wrench the blade from her grasp. He did not expect her to hang on despite being swung like a pinwheel. The torque from the momentum of the spin pulled the blade out of his hand and sent the girl flying; she proceeded to twist not unlike a cat and land - again - flawlessly; apart from her sandals skidding on the flagstones, her balance was immaculate.
"Wow!" She giggled. "I don't normally do this except for Baldy, Eyebrows and Ken-chan! But I think you deserve it for holding out this long."
Chad tensed, lifting his mecharm into a block.
Yachiru swept to sword around dramatically, although the gesture looked almost comical when applied to her proportions. She then drew it back over her head as if preparing a straight downward chop.
"Scorch the earth, Hinokami!"
The very air burned with pink flame, forming an immense cat-shaped conflagration around the girl. Chad staggered back, trying to escape the overbearing heat.
Yachiru brought the sword down, and this time, the flames were not pink. Angry red fire, like dirty oil set alight, flowed over the blade like water and ran in rivulets to the ground.
The childlike lieutenant was no longer smiling. Her face was set in hard concentration. The eleventh lived for fighting, but even they respected what it meant to be in a real battle.
She flicked the blade sideways like it was no more than a knife, and the weapon shed its fiery coating effortlessly. The air was suddenly filled with flaming droplets.
Despite their oily appearance, they burned hot enough to pit and warp the rock they touched. Where they landed, they stuck.
Chad reeled as the fire washed over him. He released the impact energy in his gauntlet, blasting some of the oil away, but the damage was already done. He could feel the skin boiling away on his exposed arm and significant areas of his torso.
The last thing he heard as he passed out was, "not bad! You lasted longer than most!"
X-X-X