Tatsuki's descent through the skies over the Seireitei was a blazing spectacle—a fiery comet knifing through the night. As she plummeted, she concentrated her spiritual energy, swathing herself in an ethereal armor that guarded against the potentially lethal forces of her dramatic entrance.
Tatsuki grit her teeth while attempting to maintain focus, it burns! Keep concentrating Tatsuki you can do this!
The ground rushed toward her—a clear landing spot coming sharply into view. With the instinctual finesse of a warrior, Tatsuki landed in a perfect crouch, her Kyūsui Kūmaku boots absorbing the impact, the ground beneath her quaking from the force. She took a moment to catch her breath, her chest heaving, adrenaline still rushing through her veins like molten lava.
Wiping off the sweat from her forehead like ridding herself of paranoia, she sighed, and she sticks to landing! Whew, I could've been done for if I couldn't control my spiritual energy.
Tatsuki concentrated, dismissing her boots with a thought. They dissipated like mist, revealing her shins and feet. She wore a traditional white fighting Gi, which hugged her feminine muscular frame like a second skin. The fabric was soft but durable, designed for maximum mobility. A black belt—each knot and fold a testament to her skill—encircled her waist.
"The others must have been flung away too," she muttered, staring skyward, her eyes tracing the invisible trajectory of the cannonball that had launched them all into this unknown.
Now I need to find out how to reach Rukia, everyone else must be thinking the same thing. We'll regroup later, Tatsuki thought to herself with a tinge of worry for her friends.
Suddenly, she felt it—the skin-crawling sensation of being watched. Damn I've been found already?, Tatsuki's head snapped from side to side, her eyes darting across the intricate architecture of the Seireitei, past the imposing barracks and sprawling training grounds. It was as if someone—or something—was circling her, eluding her focus in a game of unnerving cat-and-mouse.
"Come out! I know you're there," she shouted, her voice echoing against the stone walls. Her hands moved deftly to tighten her belt, each pull ratcheting up her readiness. She could almost taste the impending conflict in the air—a bitter flavor tinged with menace.
And there, in the shivering silence that followed her proclamation, the weight of her solitude sank in. She was alone, in enemy territory, and whatever was lurking in the shadows was not a friend. Yet her stance remained unyielding, a single, resolute figure poised on the edge of the unknown, ready to confront whatever darkness lay ahead.
Tatsuki's breath hovered in her throat, a fragile bubble of tension waiting to burst. That's right, she thought grimly, Yoruichi warned us that these Soul Reapers will kill me given half a chance. Her thoughts flickered like quicksilver through her mind, each one honing her senses, sharpening her awareness.
Gritting her teeth, where are they? She questioned in her mind. Tatsuki shifted her weight, her body bending into a defensive martial arts stance. She splayed her feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent. One hand clenched into a fist near her jaw, poised for an intercepting strike, while the other remained open, fingers half-curled near her waist—ready for a quick grab or deflection. Every muscle fiber in her was taut, every nerve ending electrified. Her eyes oscillated nervously from one hidden corner to another, trying to lock onto the source of the unsettling presence.
And then, as if conjured from the very shadows, a man materialized a mere few feet away. Shoulder length - flowing white hair crowned his head, emerald green eyes and angular jaw, contrasting vividly with the stark black of his Onmitsukidō uniform—form-fitting, designed for stealth, his shirt sleeveless, hakama pants, adorned with a set of crossed white belts across his chest holding kunai knives. A diagonal scar marred his visage, starting from the outer edge of his left eyebrow and trailing down to the height of his nose, as if he had once dared to stare down the blade of a sword. A katana hung from his lower back - held by a belt that wrapped around his obi, its hilt peeping out over his right hip in quiet menace.
The man's posture was an enigma—a study in contradiction. One arm curved behind his back in a formal, almost ceremonial pose, while the other was extended before him, fingers molded into a singular, enigmatic hand seal. His eyes—an electric blue, almost translucent—gave away nothing, and for a second, Tatsuki felt her face heating up as she looked into his eyes and felt as though she were staring into an abyss, He's cute. She thought then quickly dismissed it.
The night air felt thickened, charged with the static of unspoken challenge. The only sounds were the distant cries of nocturnal creatures and the muted rustle of leaves in the wind, as if the world itself was holding its breath, waiting for the clash of wills that seemed inevitable. Tatsuki's pulse drummed in her ears, drowning out all but the most primal of instincts.
It was a standoff—a moment stretched taut as a bowstring, one that promised to erupt into violence, into life and death, into something profoundly irreversible. And in that fleeting pause, Tatsuki felt the weight of every choice she had ever made, and of those yet to come.
"Who are you supposed to be?" Tatsuki finally broke the silence, her voice tinged with wary curiosity.
The man met her gaze but didn't move, as if carved from stone. "I should be asking you that question, Ryoka," he replied in a smooth and casually tone, the word 'Ryoka' hanging in the air like a quiet warning.
Tatsuki's eyebrows twitched upward. "Ryoka? What's that supposed to mean?"
His eyes narrowed just a fraction, like the briefest shadow passing over the sun. "It means you're an intruder in the Seireitei. As for me, my name is Hikari Tsunayashiro, third seat member of Squad Two. Nice to meet ch'ya."
Despite the heavy air and the clear element of danger, Hikari's words had a lighthearted cadence—a dissonant note in the grim symphony of their encounter. His white hair seemed to catch the faint ambient light, and the Onmitsukidō uniform he wore—black, adorned with a white obi and scarf—seemed to meld with the darkness.
Tatsuki held her stance, she responded, "Tatsuki Arisawa, High School student of Karakura high."
Hikari's eyes twinkled with intrigue, almost as if amused by the stark juxtaposition of their titles. "A student, huh? Well, isn't this a curious turn of events. I would think people who bust into Seireitei have grander roles in mind."
Tatsuki tensed, her senses tingling as if perceiving the quiet power that Hikari's laid-back demeanor barely concealed. "I didn't come here for a career fair," she retorted, her eyes narrowing.
Hikari chuckled softly, the sound echoing eerily in the tense air between them. "Of course not. We don't usually have walk-ins. So, what brings a student to a place where even veteran Soul Reapers tread carefully?"
Before she could answer, Hikari moved. His speed was nothing short of extraordinary, covering the distance between them in a heartbeat. Tatsuki barely managed to deflect the strike aimed at her with her gauntleted arms she conjured within seconds, skidding back a few feet from the impact.
Hikaru made a face of impression, "ooh? That's an interesting power you got there, I certainly have never seen it before."
The force sent a jarring sensation up her arms, but she held her ground, instantly aware that this was no mere sparring match. "Is this the Seireitei hospitality? You guys really know how to roll out the welcome mat." She ignored his comment about her power in favor of her frustration.
Hikari shrugged, seemingly undeterred by her defiance. "In this place, survival is the best hospitality we can offer, and being an intruder, sadly my duty would be to kill you." His voice was calm, almost indifferent, but the steeliness of his gaze suggested otherwise. "You seem capable of holding your own. But can you survive here, Tatsuki Arisawa, student of Karakura High?"
Tatsuki adjusted her stance, her eyes meeting Hikari's unflinchingly. She felt the knot of tension in her gut, but there was something else— a flame, flickering and defiant. "Guess there's only one way to find out. Hikari Tsunayashiro of Squad Two."
And as their spiritual pressures clashed in an invisible dance of energies, a twisted sense of camaraderie filled the air. For in this perilous world, under this scrutinizing sky, they were both warriors—irreversibly bound by a battle that was as much a test of wills as it was a fight for survival.
Elsewhere in the world of the living.
The afternoon sun filtered through the trees, casting dappled shadows on the pavement as Yuzu walked with purpose. Her arms were filled with bags of groceries, and each step was a deliberate calculation, her petite form seemingly defying the heaviness of her load. The air was punctuated with the hum of cicadas, a usual backdrop for summertime errands.
Yuzu glanced briefly at the sky with a small smile, the weather sure is nice. I wish I could enjoy it more. But slowly I feel I can continue… She thought to herself and trailed off her thought process as she swung her groceries as she walked.
As Yuzu approached the intersection, a discordant note broke through the mundane atmosphere. She heard the scuffling of shoes, harsh laughter, and muffled cries. Her eyes narrowed as she saw a group of boys surrounding another kid, who was cowering on the ground while the others stood above threatening to hit him.
An involuntary surge of anger washed over her, causing her to grip the iron pole of the crosswalk sign tightly. Her eyes blazed with an uncharacteristic ferocity as she shouted, "Hey! You boys, leave him alone!"
The abruptness and volume of her outcry, coupled with an indefinable aura that emanated from her, made the bullies freeze. They looked at her as if they'd seen a ghost, and then, almost comically, they scampered away without uttering a single word.
For a moment, Yuzu stood there, puzzled. "Why did they react like that?" she wondered. Confusion clouded her eyes as she turned to examine the pole her hand had gripped. What she saw made her gasp.
The iron pole had an indentation that perfectly matched the shape of her hand. It was as if the metal had yielded to her touch, molding itself around her hand. In a state of disbelief, she released her grip, causing the bags of groceries to spill onto the sidewalk. Eggs cracked, milk cartons toppled, but all Yuzu could do was stare at her own hand and then back at the indented pole.
"Did I do that?" The thought reverberated through her mind, each word underscored by her racing heartbeat. Her eyes widened in a mix of awe and dread, as a new, unfamiliar landscape of possibilities began to unfold before her. It was a moment of revelation, one that hinted at an untapped power she never knew she possessed, and a stark reminder that the world she thought she knew might just be the tip of an iceberg.
Within the Soul Society, Seireitei.
In a cacophony of rapid movements and concentrated spiritual energy, Tatsuki found herself in a relentless defensive loop. Each of Hikari's strikes was like a whip of air, a surging torrent of calculated aggression that seemed to have its own gravitational pull. The atmosphere pulsated with tension, like the charged seconds before a lightning strike.
Her gauntlets reverberated as they met Hikari's open palm, absorbing a force that felt like being hit by a freight train. The sound echoed in her ears, a metallic song of war that brought her back to her dojo—but this was no sparring match. Another blow, aimed with surgical precision at her throat, was barely parried in a whirling windmill of motion.
Tatsuki was becoming frustrated, damn it, why can't I find an opening?!
Hikari's leg shot out, arching gracefully but with lethal intent. Adrenalin pumped through Tatsuki's veins, drowning out reason and replacing it with raw instinct. Her muscles tightened, spring-loaded, and she hurled herself backward, performing a desperate backflip. Her heart seemed to stall in midair, as she felt Hikari's sweeping leg narrowly miss her by what felt like a molecule's width. Her hands met the cold ground to vault her body out of harm's way, a dizzying acrobatic feat that she had never thought herself capable of until this very moment.
"You've got good reactions there, Tatsuki Arisawa." Hikari commented as he steadied his stance.
Landing cat-like on her feet, Tatsuki finally shifted from defense to offense, "And I thought Soul Reapers use swords." She replied, like a coiled spring suddenly released. A gust of wind trailed her as she shot forward, her feet barely touching the ground. With a shout, she clenched her fist and aimed it like a missile toward Hikari's smirking face.
Time seemed to slow as she saw her fist nearing its target. Then, with a fluidity that defied logic, Hikari caught her fist in his hand, his smirk deepening into an inscrutable grin. His fingers enclosed her fist with an almost elegant gentleness that belied his strength.
"Not half bad, not bad at all but, all I need is Hakuda against you, using my sword would just be overkill." Hikari stated plainly, his voice imbued with a relaxed tone. His eyes met hers, and for a moment, the world ceased to exist outside of this electrifying standoff.
Tatsuki grit her teeth, "Don't underestimate me." She said in a low voice. Then was a strange acknowledgment, a nod between warriors that transcended the imminent danger—yet did nothing to alleviate it.
He let go of Tatsuki's fist and Hikari's fist transformed into a blur of spiritual energy and intent, a cannonball aimed directly at Tatsuki's face. Reacting on instinct, her gauntlets snapped into a defensive position—crossed before her face like an impenetrable shield made of iron and will. The collision between fist and gauntlet released a sonic boom, the atmosphere vibrating as if rejecting the ferocity of the impact.
She winced, her gauntlets trembling under the weight of his strike. That felt like being hit by a damn helicopter, even against my Kyūsui Kūmaku, she thought, her mind a whirlwind of calculations and fears. The gauntlets had absorbed most of the impact, but the residual force still rippled through her muscles, awakening her to a new understanding of her adversary's power.
And then, as if unsatisfied with the brutality of his first strike, Hikari's fists turned into tempests. They came one after another, relentless and increasingly fast, like a meteor shower bombarding Earth. Each punch was a blur, a whirlwind that seemed to tear the very air asunder as it raced toward her.
The moonlight cast an ethereal glow over the battlefield, illuminating the deadly dance between Tatsuki and Hikari. With every strike and counter, their shadows played out an eerie spectacle on the cobblestone streets; Tatsuki barely managing to keep up the same pace. She clenched her jaw, damn it, I need to do something.
Hikari's unrestrained power met Tatsuki's unyielding defense time and again, creating brilliant arcs of spiritual energy that crackled and dispersed like lightning in a storm.
The sound of Hikari's fists against Tatsuki's gauntlets echoed through the air, a haunting rhythm reminiscent of war drums, each beat marking a moment of life or death. The very ground seemed to pulse under the weight of their conflict, vibrating with the sheer intensity of their confrontation.
Tatsuki's muscles screamed in protest, each strike from Hikari feeling like a battering ram slamming into a fortress wall. The gauntlets, which once felt like an extension of her own will, now felt like chains—binding, heavy, and unrelenting. Every new onslaught brought with it the weight of a mountain, each blow chipping away at her resolve like a sculptor shaping stone.
Panic's icy tendrils began to wrap around her heart, constricting tighter with every passing moment. I need to do something to change the way this is going, She thought, her breaths became ragged gasps, as if the air itself was being sucked out of her lungs, leaving a void of despair. The world around her started to blur, sounds merging into a cacophonous roar, drowning her senses.
Moonlight streamed down, casting an eerie glow on Tatsuki as she was brutally flung against a wall by a roundhouse kick by Hikari. The sheer force of the impact caused fissures to snake out from the point of contact, with debris scattering like a rain of desolation. Dust swirled in the aftermath, masking her form.
Hikari, with a predatory gait, began his approach towards his downed opponent, yawning meanwhile twisting his features as if he were tired. To Tatsuki's shocked gaze, his shadow elongated grotesquely, morphing into a malevolent, demonic silhouette. It danced mockingly on the cracked wall, growing larger and more terrifying with every step he took.
Tatsuki struggled to see Hikari, her vision teetering on blurriness and clarity. She tried to swallow, but her throat felt like it was filled with shards of glass. Am… Am I going to die? The cold grip of fear tightened around her heart, but she refused to let her countenance betray her inner turmoil.
He continued a slow pace, his voice dripping with slight intrigue. "So, you're trembling, huh? What did you think was going to happen when you got through that barrier, is this the first time you're facing death in the face?" He spoke out the toward Tatsuki, making it echo ominously in the chilly air.
The oppressive weight of Hikari's spiritual pressure threatened to crush Tatsuki's resolve. It was an invisible, malignant force, pressing down on her, making her innards twist in nausea and her skin prickle with apprehension.
Suddenly, a voice — haunting and sneering — reverberated in her mind. "What's the matter, weakling? Ready to surrender? Ready to throw in the towel and give up?"
Her eyes darted frantically, the voice's eerie familiarity striking a nerve. "Who... Who are you?" She demanded, her voice quivering.
A mocking laughter, cold and distant, responded. "You seriously don't know? Whatever, Your self-doubt has made you blind and deaf. You look absolutely pathetic."
The world around Tatsuki dissolved into an abyss of blackness. Disoriented and panicked, she cried out, her voice echoing endlessly in the void. "What have you done? Where am I?"
The voice hissed back, venom dripping from every syllable. "You're paralyzed by your own cowardice! Is this all you've got? Do you even know what you're capable of?."
Tatsuki felt a swell of despair as she huddled, her form small and vulnerable. "I don't know... I don't want to die here."
The voice growled, "Then fight! If you don't want to die then KILL! Then take their power for your own. Use your damn abilities. Against the strongest, you mustn't ever back down. If you hesitate for a second they'll kill you."
From the impenetrable dark, a blazing blue figure emerged, shifting and writhing until it settled into a defined shape. Tatsuki's breath caught as she beheld the manifestation of the voice: a towering, blue-skinned entity with a physique sculpted in sinewy muscle. Two horns, sharp and gray, jutted proudly from his forehead. The black hakama he wore without a shirt fluttered as if touched by an invisible breeze. Intricately shaped black tattoos pulsed with a blue energy throughout his entirety of his exposed skin. His colossal feet were bare, and each finger was tipped with a coal-black claw. His eyes, dark voids with gleaming blue irises, regarded her with a mixture of scorn and challenge. But it was the malevolent smirk, painted on lips as dark as the night, that truly sent shivers down her spine.
Japanese words and things to know:
Onmitsukidō: Stealth Tactics Uniform
Hakama: Traditional Japanese Clothing
Obi: Sash (the cloth that wraps around a Hakama)
Hakuda: (白打) White Hits, Viz - Hand to Hand Combat.