I meant to post this chapter around Easter but, clearly, that did not happen. There is no real excuse for my lateness, and I apologise for that.
First off, thank you to my two wonderful reviewers, siriusblack98 [who reviewed both chapters] and no. 1. Your support is so very, very appreciated as I kick this story off. Also, thank you to five people who put this story in either their favourites or their alerts, and the numerous viewers. Every single one of you has my deepest appreciation and, without your messages, views, and reviews, this story would definitely not exist.
Also, thank you to akafyi, who lets me throw ideas at her.
Written By: 7ShadowsUnleashed
Posted: 2 May, 2014
Disclaimer: I am not Tite Kubo, therefore, I do not own the Bleach universe. I do own the Grey Squad and the prison, but everything else is Mr Kubo's.
Now, onto the chapter: I hope you enjoy.
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Windshadow longed to soar. It had been months since she had flown in earnest — just her wings and the open sky spread before her — but, for now, she had to settle with diving in and out of the prison cave system, where the air was stagnant and carried the stench of the unclean and stale power. The tastes coating her tongue and the smells clinging to her hair and clothes made her feel as unclean as the prisoners she was guarding. Who in their right mind could enjoy the feeling of wind in their hair when the wind tasted of foul lies and the dead? She longed to unleash her wings and omit the sky, the sun, the moon; not a sporadically–placed lantern perched metres above a human who refused to even look up and appreciate the glory of her five-metre wingspan.
There was a reason she preferred to work alone: so she did not have to accommodate those who could not join her in the sky.
She landed, skidding a good metre and a half before coming to a stop with her hands mere centimetres away from the back of the young captain's head, outstretched to keep her level.
"Work on your landings," he muttered. "You'll end up killing someone before you manage to kill yourself if you keep stumbling like that."
"What makes you such an expert?" she shot back.
"You are not the only one with a pair of wings."
Windshadow pulled her hand back, coiling herself to deliver a blow to insolent rat. "Did you forget who holds the power in this cell, Ice Prince?" she spat. Then she felt it: his reiatsu—how it rolled off of him in waves of cool, liquid power. Just the stray sensation sent shock reverberating through her bones. For the first time, she wanted to break a contract and keep everything—every thin trace, for herself.
Stay strong, she thought, but it was difficult to restrain herself. She licked her lips with her forked tongue and took a moment to study the prisoner who possessed such a tempting reiatsu. He was small, smaller than herself, capped with a tangle of fluffy white hair and piercing turquoise eyes. His pale skin shone in the dark, reflecting the flickering lamplight with the same lustre has his silk kimono once boasted.
"Heh," she turned and picked up the fragile figure eight-twisted silver strand from where it had fallen behind her. "I can't imagine you holding such power."
Toshiro squirmed on the floor, writhing like a snake trapped under a boot. "You don't believe me?"
"No one said I didn't," she said while forming a quick hand sign, muttering an activation phrase under her breath as she threw the figure eight strand in the air and jumped, feeling the wings catch her moments before she hit the floor. Within moments she had flown to the top of the chasm and landed on the ledge; her feet carefully tucked beneath her.
She straightened, staring over the edge, her eyes glinting with a wet silver sheen, and whispered, "I can taste your overflow of power little captain. If anyone wields such power, it is you, but that power might be your—"
The air suddenly throbbed beside her ear. A fist skimmed across her delicate cheekbones, the wrist covered with thin white scars, a silver ring set with a single onyx stone over the white glove. Every detail was assessed in the instant it took for her attacker's hand to pass her face. She knew whose hand tried to deal her harm before momentum carried Leafshard past her.
By the time he turned to face her, she had already played her first card.
.:.
His claws scraped across the stone, blood seeping beneath them and over the tips of his toes. The pain was needle-like as each tiny nail follicle was thrust back and forth with the dips in the rugged stone.
If it wasn't for Windshadow, he would not feel this pain.
He turned to face her, fighting to regain his footing on the narrow ledge and snarling through his curved teeth. "Are you really that ignorant?" his entire body quivered, chest heaving with the exertion, but his words were clear and thick with fury. "You think you can move where you wish and your invisibility will protect you?" He turned in circles, his fiery eyes darkening to red: drops of blood in the inky black shadows cast under his sharp cheekbones.
She narrowed her eyes towards him. "So you have the demon's sight, Leafshard. I honestly can't say that I'm surprised." She said it as if she could care less about his technique, then moved quickly. He whirled around, hands cocked back to catch the girl, but there was nothing there—not that he was surprised.
There was a flicker of movement in his peripheral vision. "There you are …" He crossed the stone between them in an instant, one hand probing the empty space between the ledge and himself while the other was loosely cocked for a blow.
Fabric between fingers ... fingers clasping around a delicate wrist and pulling it closer ... a fist flying through the air, and a body slowly dripping into view as it vanished into the yawning chasm. In barely a second, it was over, but there was still one person standing on the ledge.
The other was falling through space.
.:.
Matsumoto had taken the news stoically, with the expressionless silence of someone already dead. Unohana wanted to remind the woman that she was not a cadaver but a living, breathing person. It truly was a gift that Matsumoto had survived the attack—the bruising around her throat spoke many words—but there was little she could say for fear of sending the lieutenant careening off into the deep end.
It had been hours since the fourth division captain had broken the news to the lieutenant, now the acting captain of the tenth division, and nothing had changed.
Or maybe … everything had.
Æ
That is the shortest chapter I have ever written, but please review and tell me how I did. I have nothing against criticism, and actually welcome it, so feel free to cook me to a crisp if this chapter was not worth your read or I am dragging the same thoughts on way too long for your taste.
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See you next round,
- 7ShadowsUnleashed