Post by Iwahara/ Tsukiko on Aug 3, 2008 17:55:55 GMT -5
Being a member of the first division was tough enough, training more than other division, using the pressure Yamamoto placed was one thing, but the constant fighting and constraints put upon them while fighting was another. Koujin moved up through the ranks, something it might even take a shinigami a lifetime to achieve. The hard work involved left most members of the first sore and exhausted day in and day out, but it was something to be desired. Yamamoto personally pushed his division, making sure, the weak were weeded out and set elsewhere, or if they were “influential” talents, he would see that they got extra training. There was no time to run around or to have a social life, it was like shinigami academy all over again, the students were too tired to do anything other than rest and relax. Koujin didn’t subscribe to this lifestyle, he found it to brutal for his likening, coupled with his disdain for fighting, he oddly become somewhat of a martyr when it came to combat practice, choosing to barricade himself and other’s than to attack and defeat. It came slowly at first; the years wore on him, the constant abuse from above, and the higher than life expectations from below. Even rest was not enough anymore; he started taking all available free time to simple sit and be with the ground. But all that training and hard work did something for Koujin, he saw things a little bit differently each day, those with close relationships to their zanpakuto succeeded, brute strength was another, along with reiatsu, all different paths, all lead to the same goal, becoming the best one could be.
But life wasn’t always fair like that, the first division had its share of flowers just like any other division, the sad part is, those flowers held thorns that would reach your inner most being and just flush it out. Chōjirō was one such person, little or no care as to wither a person lived or died, he cared more about keeping up the appearance that he was strong and powerful; which in truth he was most certainly not. In multiple combat Chojiro succeeded, in fact, he triumphed, the fear that he instilled allowed him a merciless advantage, and humiliation was one of his favored tactics. Often times using the blunt of his sword to spank or slap an opponent into a shame that only he could lord over. Nevertheless, something was amiss with him; his thingyy attitude towards recruits, as he commonly referred to everyone beneath him placed him on a pedestal on its own class. He used humiliation and doubt to win battles, or “mock” battles. Often times insulting ones’ zanpakuto spirit, or breaking down the bonds that they shared so each person would cast doubt on their own abilities. Most did not last long under this; the first division was made up of fresh or young recruits. Koujin has something akin to a priest in this sect, he became 3rd seat by defeating his superiors in combat that lasted well over an hour, using slow and thought out movements to transgress shear experience and force of will. Instead of constantly tearing down others as Chōjirō did, Koujin instead brought them up, using his own experiences and foresight to help rebuild them into toughened individuals that were stronger and more eager to face the onslaught the next day would bring.
However, Koujin’s deeds did not go unnoticed; in fact, Chōjirō became incredibly suspicious and distraught with how things were turning out. No long was he the end all be all, in fact he slowly saw power slipping from his hands and it feel right where it should belong, with the division as a whole instead of as one. So fell the heavy reign of Chōjirō, his merciless and cruel attitude grew in leaps and bounds, he pushed harder, drove faster, and was fiercer. Every day the punishments got worse, and the rewards sweeter, for the only way to win hearts is to give them something to triumph over. Koujin was firm in his belief, his position never wavered, and he never waxed for a moment. Slowly but surely the burden of caring for and maintaining a division fell upon Koujin’s shoulders; Chōjirō for all he was worth put everything he had into breaking Koujin and the rest, he wanted dogs, not shinigami, animals that would follow his command blindly and to their death. Back breaking labor, exhausting conditions, merciless training, all for the sake of becoming the best of the best, preaching that General Yamamoto was entitled to have the cream de la cream of shinigami, all the while pushing others away and destroying what fragile psyches young shinigami have. However, they endured, not because they wanted too, but because they had to, otherwise they were left out and abandoned by their fellow division members. Nevertheless, Koujin carried that burden all the way until that faithful day.
It was a dark and grim day; the rain pelted the new recruits, young shinigami who had not realized what being in the first division meant, Koujin and the others finished their training, but stayed to watch the new recruits as they were “whipped” into shape, both literally and figuratively. The rain soaked the ground, wet hair matted against Koujin’s face as he watched them struggle to keep up. Chōjirō was bounding across the field, barking commands and striking anyone who fell behind. He was proud he could “mold” future divisions of shinigami, and these showed how he did it. The top 10 officers yelled and encouraged those beneath them to try harder and do the best they could, and that tomorrow would be better, it never was, but hope is a powerful ally. Koujin sat quietly; he was not watching the recruits but Chōjirō, that man moved swiftly for his age, gracefully was more accurate. It was almost as if Koujin could taste the delight Chōjirō got out of both mentally and physically attacking those who fell behind. Slowly but surely he broke most of them, tears streamed down their faces, something Koujin had seen hundreds if not nearly a thousand times. The rain drove at them, one slipped and fell, he was young, and his body was not built for manual labor but instead was that of a thinker and planner. Koujin watched for a moment as the kid struggled to get up, the mud made it hard for balance to be achieved. The other division members grew quiet, for fear of what would happen next. The boy had fallen once again, but this time it was different he had slipped and most likely sprained his lower foot, Koujin later found out that it was his ankle, but that is a different story altogether.
It took a while for the great and mighty Chōjirō to notice it, for they had already moved at least a dozen paces away by the time he was missed. A young recruit made the mistake of going back to help the poor lad, Chōjirō like a snake in the grass caught it, his eyes gleamed, that slimy voice oozed out into a snarl. “Get back inline you gutless coward”. Chōjirō eyes caught the young man on the ground; they narrowed as he proceeded to pounce like a cat waiting for a mouse. He calmly walked over and took a moment to look over the boy, his voice snarled once again “Get up get up get up get up” the boy was terrified as he struggled to get up, his voice cried every time he put pressure on his foot. He slipped and fell again, repeatedly, his sobs filled the air. Perhaps it was the rain beating down; perhaps it was just the timing of it all, or something more, fate, but whatever it was Chōjirō decided that using his scabbard to hit the boy into listening would do the trick. Once, twice, three times, it fell against the boys back, the boy struggled to contain himself, Koujin gazed in a hazy mist of anger and hatred that he had not felt in a long time. Something inside of him kept him in check, whatever sparked the fire, or more accurately, whoever sparked the fire inside of Koujin kept it controlled, for now.
Koujin walked over to the lad, his footsteps heavy in the mud, the rain felt nice against his hot skin, the workout from today had been more than enough to get him sweating. Imprints of his feet were quickly washed away as the ground was thoroughly soaked. Koujin made it to the boy before Chōjirō even noticed him, yelling commands to the rest of the recruits, and making sure this boy was made an example of left him senseless to the outside world, but then again, when one has been doing the same for countless centuries, it makes it hard to comprehend any deviation in that routine. Koujin picked the boy up, his arms were careful enough to not disturb the leg that was injured. Chōjirō was silent for a moment; it was a surreal moment for he regained his wits in a heartbeat. However, words no longer punctured Koujin as they once did; instead, they bounced off into the air like pebbles against a tree. For all he was worth Chōjirō followed Koujin snarling commands, perhaps Chōjirō himself had hope that Koujin would listen to him, once again hope can be a powerful ally. Koujin made it over to where the others were sitting, he handed the boy off to a fourth seat, a person much older than Koujin. Koujin turned to face Chōjirō, but felt a slap across his face instead. It stung, Koujin cannot lie about that, but it seems trivial in the end. For whatever reason, someone coaxed the flames inside of Koujin into a roaring inferno, now it burned mercilessly, sweeping across Koujin like a rare wildfire, full of life and excitement, but also bewilderment.
Koujin’s fist came across Chōjirō face; shock and surprise was his ally in this instance, and perhaps a few more to come. The force was fully intended in that moment, for Chōjirō staggered backwards but quickly regained himself; a small dribble of blood ebbed from his chin, but was quickly washed away by the rain. With a reflex faster than his age belie, Chōjirō brought his scabbard across Koujin’s shoulder, leaving a resounding “smack” sound in the air, and a welt where it hit. Chōjirō spat words at Koujin, but they were ignored, as the butt of Koujin’s sword proceeded to be shoved into Chōjirō stomach. Staggering back a few paces, Chōjirō eyes were ablaze with anger, but that time had already passed; for Koujin drew his sword and pointed it directly at Chōjirō. The clear active of defiance was something Chōjirō wanted, his blade came out and his voice rang clear “You better be prepared to finish what your little spineless friend started Iwahara Koujin” but the answer came sooner than even Koujin would have accepted. Koujin threw his scabbard at Chōjirō, hurtled it is more correct, it flew at it with incredibly speed, though easily deflected the answer was all the same.
“I shall teach you the meaning of true power, and I shall imprint it into your body” Chōjirō said, is a tone eerily calm and collective. However, the meaning was forced home when Chōjirō spoke his shikai command “pierce” Koujin stared for a moment before Chōjirō came at him, his rapier in short quick successions flowed back and forth slapping against Koujin on both arms and the upper thighs. The pain was immense, but quickly faded away, leaving eight welts on his arms and thighs. Chōjirō jumped back a short distance to admire his work, Koujin with welts and all recovered from his initial shock of being struck, oddly enough it was from Chōjirō training that Koujin managed to recover that quickly. Koujin spoke softly, the rain still pelting him as he whipped his sword across with his arm, “Tokero *Melt Them*” Instantly his sword glowed bright red as it literally started to melt, lava ebbed from the guard as it oozed down the length until it reached the tip, fattening out it sat there, waiting to do what it does best, burn and melt. Koujin, his arm at a angle akin to near parallel with his leg swept up and towards his upper left shoulder; a small crescent of lava splashed out and moved towards Chōjirō. The rain made the lava steam in billows of black and white ash as it cooled as it flew towards him, before it reached Chōjirō it had turned into a solid rock, roughly 4 feet across, a foot and a half wide and about ten inches deep. Chōjirō stabbed his sword directly into the middle of the flying rock, it easily pierced the rock and exploded it into several hundred pieces, all landing behind Chōjirō.
Chōjirō came at Koujin, his sword pointed straight out in a piercing move, Koujin slashed forward, creating a crescent that move forth vertically at Chōjirō, the attempt to hurt him was null, but it was more to change Chōjirō stance than anything else was, it did its job and Chōjirō was forced to shift his sword up. Now with fencers and their swords, are incredibly fast movers, light on their feet, and the tip of their swords are incredibly potent, Koujin made a safe bet that Chōjirō could stab right through Koujin’s sword like it was butter, but rapiers have weakness’s, they are good in stabbing and impaling maneuvers, but slashing and chopping are much to be desired, in fact they are incredibly weak against a stronger more durable sword. With Chōjirō forced to impale the rock at a 90-degree angle, it left the edge open for attack and repulsion. Koujin isn’t favorable in close ranged combat, while his sword is literally lava and tons of heat radiate off of it, up close combat like that of a rapier can be extremely troublesome for someone who can’t have their sword touch there body. Koujin brought his sword across Chōjirō’s, the contact splashed lava forth causing Chōjirō to close his eyes, but also some of it landed on his uniform, which was soaked and the lava quickly hardened. The advantage worked and Chōjirō in order to not have his rapier bend was forced to jump back, putting him on the defense for now.
Koujin knew cornered rats are dangerous, but placing an experienced fighter on the defensive is never a bad option. Chōjirō had allowed Koujin the one advantage he needed to perform in near perfect condition, room. Koujin slashed across the rain in an x pattern, two waves of lava arched out in that pattern, forming an x as they hardened, each of them combining into a giant X that flew towards Chōjirō. Nevertheless, the rain quickly extinguished any and almost all traces of heat left by the flying X, but Koujin was no fool, rain can be a blessing in disguise, when rain comes in contact with lava ash and other smoke is formed, but instead of rising up into the atmosphere, it stays low to the ground and hangs in the air making it harder to breath and see. Chōjirō thrust his sword squarely in the middle of the oncoming X and shattered it into many pieces. Before Chōjirō could come at Koujin once again, he did something that gave him even more range with Chōjirō, he thrust his blade into the earth, the mud hardening and becoming bone dry, another soft spoken command “Kaseigan *Volcanic Stone*”. A line of lava erupted from the earth, it was about 100 meters long and 20 feet tall as it raced towards Chōjirō, moving out of the way, the wall of lava continued passed him for another 15 feet or so, before hardening into a 20 foot tall wall of solid black rock, still steaming from the rain. But, Koujin wasn’t finished there, he needed to cut off as many avenues of attack as possible, he pulled his sword out of the ground for a moment before thrusting it back in again, “Kaseigan *Volcanic Stone*” rang out once more as another wall raced across in the opposite direction as the first, forming a line nearly symmetrical to the first.
Koujin had cut off the area Chōjirō could move in half, of course, he could go over the wall, but that would take time, and time was something Koujin needed to form another wall. Chōjirō came at Koujin, quickly closing the space in-between then in a short time, but Chōjirō misjudged the one thing that gave him an advantage, the rain. When Koujin thrust his sword into the ground, it dried out and hardened, but with the rain and surrounding wet mud, it created a sink hole effect in about a 10 meter circle around Koujin, any pressure would cause the mud to go down at least a foot, Chōjirō movement became sluggish in the last few steps to Koujin, his feet sinking caused him to think more about getting them out of the mud than piercing Koujin. The rapier came in, pointed directly at Koujin’s right shoulder, as it passed his elbow, Koujin swung his sword at the rapier from the side, the force of the swing was enough to shift the angle and it grazed Koujin’s outer arm. Chōjirō was forced to withdraw the pierce and regain his balance, which is a hard thing to do in oozy mud. Perhaps it was fate or manifest destiny, Koujin has always believed that it was Chōjirō over-confidence that led to his downfall but nothing short of a miracle happened in any case. A crime of opportunity presented itself in a most unfathomed way, had that boy not hurt his leg, Koujin would have remained seated where he was.
It was a most peculiar site to behold; Chōjirō had regained his balance, but had smeared mud on his uniform, his gazed was like that of a roaring inferno, such rage and anger had built up throughout the battle, a battle that he himself trained each and everyone how to fight, how to see your opponents weakness and exploit it, and most of all, he showed everyone how he himself fought. Koujin didn’t waste any time surging forward, a vertical slash slightly down to the right, and another aimed at the knee caps, then it got interesting, as he moved Koujin noticed that in order to break the oncoming rocks, Chōjirō had to hit them squarely in the middle which is pretty hard thing to do, and in order to compensate for it, he started using kido spells. Something struck at Koujin that moment, he was so busy paying attention to the battle he forgot the outside world, far away to his left, his peers were cheering him on, they gathered in a small group and were actually cheering and to top it off Chōjirō had noticed it as well; the odd spectacle had given Koujin the confidence that he might actually hold his own against such an experienced fighter. Doubt and remorse were washed away from his system in an instant, his body stance changed, no longer was he in a defensive posture, a deep breath welled inside of him as he took his first step in an aggressive manner. Koujin thrust his sword straight out, a line of lava erupted from it as it sped towards Chōjirō, hardening in the rain is became an obscure blob of solid rock about five feet long hurtling towards the man. Chōjirō stabbed his sword forward in a attempt to destroy the hurtling block of rock, but he misjudged the exploding rock, and was showered with small razor sharp pieces that cut and bruised his face and hands.
Perhaps hearing the cheering from the other shinigami, perhaps seeing Koujin’s new found exuberance, maybe it was the cuts on his face and the mud on his shoes but Chōjirō called out “Respite, Respite” Koujin looked at him for a moment, dumbfounded that he would even call such a thing, but never the less Koujin took a step back and held his sword at the read. Chōjirō on the other hand, took off his outer and wiped down his face, blood, mud came off, and then he threw it into the mud as the rain beat on it. He raised his sword for a moment and took a deep breath before standing at the ready once again. “Once again” was all Koujin got before Chōjirō launched himself in a onslaught of jabs and prods, all aimed at the joints and muscle extraction. Koujin’s sword was spurting lava at each whip and twist, heavy rocks landing 15 or 20 meters away with thuds and squishes. The moves could be compared to a wasp stinging its prey to death, but sadly, it lost that analogy when Koujin decided that if it were a rock and a hard place, he would choose the rock. Koujin slashed forward horizontally along the axis that was Chōjirō head, the close quarters made sure the lava was still hot enough to cause horrid burns, and it caused Chōjirō to move out of harm’s way rather than try to duck and cover. Koujin slowly realized over the course of this fight that not once did Chōjirō have any sort of kido-based attack, instead he relied on speed, experience and an incredibly powerful jab to overwhelm his opponents. It was then that Koujin noticed that when fully used accurately, the tip of the rapier was incredibly powerful, immensely so, and that must be the effect of having such a weapon, a stab that can pierce nearly anything with enough force to shatter rock and stone, or poke straight through bone.
Nevertheless, having such an advantage is useless when faced with someone who specializes in long range, and Koujin had made sure that Chōjirō was not someone you wanted up close and in your face. The course of the battle progressed down a road not unlike many other battles seen in the Gotei 13, Chōjirō and Koujin sharing blows, trading off on defensive and offensive patterns and styles. Slowly time caught up with the both of them, they grew tired, there fighting became inconstant, sporadic and the breaths and rests taken in-between became longer and longer. Neither held the advantage very long anymore, and it was coming down to the wire. It all came down to who could outsmart and trick the other person; in fact, this entire match was nothing more than a pissing contest between two men, the only difference is that something was at stake that was greater than both of them were. If one is declared the victor, the reign of fire continues, if the other, it is a wave of fresh air and change. Koujin fought for the stronger will, Chōjirō fought to defend his; in the end it was Koujin that was left standing, barely but standing never the less. Koujin won by a margin of error on Chōjirō part, pretending to slip in the mud, Koujin stabbed his sword into the ground to keep his balance, Chōjirō say this as a perfect time to strike and flew forward in a classic piercing move that would have rendered Koujin unable to stand. By impaling his sword into the ground, Koujin did the one move that Chōjirō failed to see; Koujin in a last ditch effort, released a fully explosive * Kaseigan* directly on the oncoming Chōjirō, the move was a success and Chōjirō flew back and landed on his back with a thud and a squelch in the mud.
Koujin ever the victor walked over to were Chōjirō lay on his back, the rain beating down on the both of them, Chōjirō clothes still burning from the lava, rocks covering parts of his body as they had hardened from the impact. Koujin was not without loss, he gazed around him for a moment, 3 huge walls of rock divided the area in thirds, huge boulders and obscure shaped rocks lay scattered everywhere, shattered rock skein about, it did not look like a battlefield, but more of a geological formation. No one spoke, the air was silent except for the still hissing column of rock in the distance, Koujin walked over to his peers and sat down, and exhausted mentally and physically, he was drained to an extreme point. Two people carried him off without a word or prayer; their footsteps could be heard a good distance away as the mud quickly washed away their footprints. The triumph for Koujin was quickly removed with sleep, and for the next near week he slept it off, walking up at odd times, oddly enough he didn’t hear anything about Chōjirō for a week until he had awoken, but after that he was deeply rooted, doubt had left him, fear and anxiety were washed away in that rain, he was different and better for it, even if the inevitable occurred.
*Masa Notes* I left Chōjirō open in case I didn't "pass the test" so to speak, I made it so it can be construed that he died, or that he recovered, I like covering my bases in either case, but over all I am proud of it so I am glad I did it, you guys can take that for what its worth as my reputation is not much better than Ravana's here, but in any case it was fun, I hope whoever wants to read that likes it just as much as I did writing it. Chao
But life wasn’t always fair like that, the first division had its share of flowers just like any other division, the sad part is, those flowers held thorns that would reach your inner most being and just flush it out. Chōjirō was one such person, little or no care as to wither a person lived or died, he cared more about keeping up the appearance that he was strong and powerful; which in truth he was most certainly not. In multiple combat Chojiro succeeded, in fact, he triumphed, the fear that he instilled allowed him a merciless advantage, and humiliation was one of his favored tactics. Often times using the blunt of his sword to spank or slap an opponent into a shame that only he could lord over. Nevertheless, something was amiss with him; his thingyy attitude towards recruits, as he commonly referred to everyone beneath him placed him on a pedestal on its own class. He used humiliation and doubt to win battles, or “mock” battles. Often times insulting ones’ zanpakuto spirit, or breaking down the bonds that they shared so each person would cast doubt on their own abilities. Most did not last long under this; the first division was made up of fresh or young recruits. Koujin has something akin to a priest in this sect, he became 3rd seat by defeating his superiors in combat that lasted well over an hour, using slow and thought out movements to transgress shear experience and force of will. Instead of constantly tearing down others as Chōjirō did, Koujin instead brought them up, using his own experiences and foresight to help rebuild them into toughened individuals that were stronger and more eager to face the onslaught the next day would bring.
However, Koujin’s deeds did not go unnoticed; in fact, Chōjirō became incredibly suspicious and distraught with how things were turning out. No long was he the end all be all, in fact he slowly saw power slipping from his hands and it feel right where it should belong, with the division as a whole instead of as one. So fell the heavy reign of Chōjirō, his merciless and cruel attitude grew in leaps and bounds, he pushed harder, drove faster, and was fiercer. Every day the punishments got worse, and the rewards sweeter, for the only way to win hearts is to give them something to triumph over. Koujin was firm in his belief, his position never wavered, and he never waxed for a moment. Slowly but surely the burden of caring for and maintaining a division fell upon Koujin’s shoulders; Chōjirō for all he was worth put everything he had into breaking Koujin and the rest, he wanted dogs, not shinigami, animals that would follow his command blindly and to their death. Back breaking labor, exhausting conditions, merciless training, all for the sake of becoming the best of the best, preaching that General Yamamoto was entitled to have the cream de la cream of shinigami, all the while pushing others away and destroying what fragile psyches young shinigami have. However, they endured, not because they wanted too, but because they had to, otherwise they were left out and abandoned by their fellow division members. Nevertheless, Koujin carried that burden all the way until that faithful day.
It was a dark and grim day; the rain pelted the new recruits, young shinigami who had not realized what being in the first division meant, Koujin and the others finished their training, but stayed to watch the new recruits as they were “whipped” into shape, both literally and figuratively. The rain soaked the ground, wet hair matted against Koujin’s face as he watched them struggle to keep up. Chōjirō was bounding across the field, barking commands and striking anyone who fell behind. He was proud he could “mold” future divisions of shinigami, and these showed how he did it. The top 10 officers yelled and encouraged those beneath them to try harder and do the best they could, and that tomorrow would be better, it never was, but hope is a powerful ally. Koujin sat quietly; he was not watching the recruits but Chōjirō, that man moved swiftly for his age, gracefully was more accurate. It was almost as if Koujin could taste the delight Chōjirō got out of both mentally and physically attacking those who fell behind. Slowly but surely he broke most of them, tears streamed down their faces, something Koujin had seen hundreds if not nearly a thousand times. The rain drove at them, one slipped and fell, he was young, and his body was not built for manual labor but instead was that of a thinker and planner. Koujin watched for a moment as the kid struggled to get up, the mud made it hard for balance to be achieved. The other division members grew quiet, for fear of what would happen next. The boy had fallen once again, but this time it was different he had slipped and most likely sprained his lower foot, Koujin later found out that it was his ankle, but that is a different story altogether.
It took a while for the great and mighty Chōjirō to notice it, for they had already moved at least a dozen paces away by the time he was missed. A young recruit made the mistake of going back to help the poor lad, Chōjirō like a snake in the grass caught it, his eyes gleamed, that slimy voice oozed out into a snarl. “Get back inline you gutless coward”. Chōjirō eyes caught the young man on the ground; they narrowed as he proceeded to pounce like a cat waiting for a mouse. He calmly walked over and took a moment to look over the boy, his voice snarled once again “Get up get up get up get up” the boy was terrified as he struggled to get up, his voice cried every time he put pressure on his foot. He slipped and fell again, repeatedly, his sobs filled the air. Perhaps it was the rain beating down; perhaps it was just the timing of it all, or something more, fate, but whatever it was Chōjirō decided that using his scabbard to hit the boy into listening would do the trick. Once, twice, three times, it fell against the boys back, the boy struggled to contain himself, Koujin gazed in a hazy mist of anger and hatred that he had not felt in a long time. Something inside of him kept him in check, whatever sparked the fire, or more accurately, whoever sparked the fire inside of Koujin kept it controlled, for now.
Koujin walked over to the lad, his footsteps heavy in the mud, the rain felt nice against his hot skin, the workout from today had been more than enough to get him sweating. Imprints of his feet were quickly washed away as the ground was thoroughly soaked. Koujin made it to the boy before Chōjirō even noticed him, yelling commands to the rest of the recruits, and making sure this boy was made an example of left him senseless to the outside world, but then again, when one has been doing the same for countless centuries, it makes it hard to comprehend any deviation in that routine. Koujin picked the boy up, his arms were careful enough to not disturb the leg that was injured. Chōjirō was silent for a moment; it was a surreal moment for he regained his wits in a heartbeat. However, words no longer punctured Koujin as they once did; instead, they bounced off into the air like pebbles against a tree. For all he was worth Chōjirō followed Koujin snarling commands, perhaps Chōjirō himself had hope that Koujin would listen to him, once again hope can be a powerful ally. Koujin made it over to where the others were sitting, he handed the boy off to a fourth seat, a person much older than Koujin. Koujin turned to face Chōjirō, but felt a slap across his face instead. It stung, Koujin cannot lie about that, but it seems trivial in the end. For whatever reason, someone coaxed the flames inside of Koujin into a roaring inferno, now it burned mercilessly, sweeping across Koujin like a rare wildfire, full of life and excitement, but also bewilderment.
Koujin’s fist came across Chōjirō face; shock and surprise was his ally in this instance, and perhaps a few more to come. The force was fully intended in that moment, for Chōjirō staggered backwards but quickly regained himself; a small dribble of blood ebbed from his chin, but was quickly washed away by the rain. With a reflex faster than his age belie, Chōjirō brought his scabbard across Koujin’s shoulder, leaving a resounding “smack” sound in the air, and a welt where it hit. Chōjirō spat words at Koujin, but they were ignored, as the butt of Koujin’s sword proceeded to be shoved into Chōjirō stomach. Staggering back a few paces, Chōjirō eyes were ablaze with anger, but that time had already passed; for Koujin drew his sword and pointed it directly at Chōjirō. The clear active of defiance was something Chōjirō wanted, his blade came out and his voice rang clear “You better be prepared to finish what your little spineless friend started Iwahara Koujin” but the answer came sooner than even Koujin would have accepted. Koujin threw his scabbard at Chōjirō, hurtled it is more correct, it flew at it with incredibly speed, though easily deflected the answer was all the same.
“I shall teach you the meaning of true power, and I shall imprint it into your body” Chōjirō said, is a tone eerily calm and collective. However, the meaning was forced home when Chōjirō spoke his shikai command “pierce” Koujin stared for a moment before Chōjirō came at him, his rapier in short quick successions flowed back and forth slapping against Koujin on both arms and the upper thighs. The pain was immense, but quickly faded away, leaving eight welts on his arms and thighs. Chōjirō jumped back a short distance to admire his work, Koujin with welts and all recovered from his initial shock of being struck, oddly enough it was from Chōjirō training that Koujin managed to recover that quickly. Koujin spoke softly, the rain still pelting him as he whipped his sword across with his arm, “Tokero *Melt Them*” Instantly his sword glowed bright red as it literally started to melt, lava ebbed from the guard as it oozed down the length until it reached the tip, fattening out it sat there, waiting to do what it does best, burn and melt. Koujin, his arm at a angle akin to near parallel with his leg swept up and towards his upper left shoulder; a small crescent of lava splashed out and moved towards Chōjirō. The rain made the lava steam in billows of black and white ash as it cooled as it flew towards him, before it reached Chōjirō it had turned into a solid rock, roughly 4 feet across, a foot and a half wide and about ten inches deep. Chōjirō stabbed his sword directly into the middle of the flying rock, it easily pierced the rock and exploded it into several hundred pieces, all landing behind Chōjirō.
Chōjirō came at Koujin, his sword pointed straight out in a piercing move, Koujin slashed forward, creating a crescent that move forth vertically at Chōjirō, the attempt to hurt him was null, but it was more to change Chōjirō stance than anything else was, it did its job and Chōjirō was forced to shift his sword up. Now with fencers and their swords, are incredibly fast movers, light on their feet, and the tip of their swords are incredibly potent, Koujin made a safe bet that Chōjirō could stab right through Koujin’s sword like it was butter, but rapiers have weakness’s, they are good in stabbing and impaling maneuvers, but slashing and chopping are much to be desired, in fact they are incredibly weak against a stronger more durable sword. With Chōjirō forced to impale the rock at a 90-degree angle, it left the edge open for attack and repulsion. Koujin isn’t favorable in close ranged combat, while his sword is literally lava and tons of heat radiate off of it, up close combat like that of a rapier can be extremely troublesome for someone who can’t have their sword touch there body. Koujin brought his sword across Chōjirō’s, the contact splashed lava forth causing Chōjirō to close his eyes, but also some of it landed on his uniform, which was soaked and the lava quickly hardened. The advantage worked and Chōjirō in order to not have his rapier bend was forced to jump back, putting him on the defense for now.
Koujin knew cornered rats are dangerous, but placing an experienced fighter on the defensive is never a bad option. Chōjirō had allowed Koujin the one advantage he needed to perform in near perfect condition, room. Koujin slashed across the rain in an x pattern, two waves of lava arched out in that pattern, forming an x as they hardened, each of them combining into a giant X that flew towards Chōjirō. Nevertheless, the rain quickly extinguished any and almost all traces of heat left by the flying X, but Koujin was no fool, rain can be a blessing in disguise, when rain comes in contact with lava ash and other smoke is formed, but instead of rising up into the atmosphere, it stays low to the ground and hangs in the air making it harder to breath and see. Chōjirō thrust his sword squarely in the middle of the oncoming X and shattered it into many pieces. Before Chōjirō could come at Koujin once again, he did something that gave him even more range with Chōjirō, he thrust his blade into the earth, the mud hardening and becoming bone dry, another soft spoken command “Kaseigan *Volcanic Stone*”. A line of lava erupted from the earth, it was about 100 meters long and 20 feet tall as it raced towards Chōjirō, moving out of the way, the wall of lava continued passed him for another 15 feet or so, before hardening into a 20 foot tall wall of solid black rock, still steaming from the rain. But, Koujin wasn’t finished there, he needed to cut off as many avenues of attack as possible, he pulled his sword out of the ground for a moment before thrusting it back in again, “Kaseigan *Volcanic Stone*” rang out once more as another wall raced across in the opposite direction as the first, forming a line nearly symmetrical to the first.
Koujin had cut off the area Chōjirō could move in half, of course, he could go over the wall, but that would take time, and time was something Koujin needed to form another wall. Chōjirō came at Koujin, quickly closing the space in-between then in a short time, but Chōjirō misjudged the one thing that gave him an advantage, the rain. When Koujin thrust his sword into the ground, it dried out and hardened, but with the rain and surrounding wet mud, it created a sink hole effect in about a 10 meter circle around Koujin, any pressure would cause the mud to go down at least a foot, Chōjirō movement became sluggish in the last few steps to Koujin, his feet sinking caused him to think more about getting them out of the mud than piercing Koujin. The rapier came in, pointed directly at Koujin’s right shoulder, as it passed his elbow, Koujin swung his sword at the rapier from the side, the force of the swing was enough to shift the angle and it grazed Koujin’s outer arm. Chōjirō was forced to withdraw the pierce and regain his balance, which is a hard thing to do in oozy mud. Perhaps it was fate or manifest destiny, Koujin has always believed that it was Chōjirō over-confidence that led to his downfall but nothing short of a miracle happened in any case. A crime of opportunity presented itself in a most unfathomed way, had that boy not hurt his leg, Koujin would have remained seated where he was.
It was a most peculiar site to behold; Chōjirō had regained his balance, but had smeared mud on his uniform, his gazed was like that of a roaring inferno, such rage and anger had built up throughout the battle, a battle that he himself trained each and everyone how to fight, how to see your opponents weakness and exploit it, and most of all, he showed everyone how he himself fought. Koujin didn’t waste any time surging forward, a vertical slash slightly down to the right, and another aimed at the knee caps, then it got interesting, as he moved Koujin noticed that in order to break the oncoming rocks, Chōjirō had to hit them squarely in the middle which is pretty hard thing to do, and in order to compensate for it, he started using kido spells. Something struck at Koujin that moment, he was so busy paying attention to the battle he forgot the outside world, far away to his left, his peers were cheering him on, they gathered in a small group and were actually cheering and to top it off Chōjirō had noticed it as well; the odd spectacle had given Koujin the confidence that he might actually hold his own against such an experienced fighter. Doubt and remorse were washed away from his system in an instant, his body stance changed, no longer was he in a defensive posture, a deep breath welled inside of him as he took his first step in an aggressive manner. Koujin thrust his sword straight out, a line of lava erupted from it as it sped towards Chōjirō, hardening in the rain is became an obscure blob of solid rock about five feet long hurtling towards the man. Chōjirō stabbed his sword forward in a attempt to destroy the hurtling block of rock, but he misjudged the exploding rock, and was showered with small razor sharp pieces that cut and bruised his face and hands.
Perhaps hearing the cheering from the other shinigami, perhaps seeing Koujin’s new found exuberance, maybe it was the cuts on his face and the mud on his shoes but Chōjirō called out “Respite, Respite” Koujin looked at him for a moment, dumbfounded that he would even call such a thing, but never the less Koujin took a step back and held his sword at the read. Chōjirō on the other hand, took off his outer and wiped down his face, blood, mud came off, and then he threw it into the mud as the rain beat on it. He raised his sword for a moment and took a deep breath before standing at the ready once again. “Once again” was all Koujin got before Chōjirō launched himself in a onslaught of jabs and prods, all aimed at the joints and muscle extraction. Koujin’s sword was spurting lava at each whip and twist, heavy rocks landing 15 or 20 meters away with thuds and squishes. The moves could be compared to a wasp stinging its prey to death, but sadly, it lost that analogy when Koujin decided that if it were a rock and a hard place, he would choose the rock. Koujin slashed forward horizontally along the axis that was Chōjirō head, the close quarters made sure the lava was still hot enough to cause horrid burns, and it caused Chōjirō to move out of harm’s way rather than try to duck and cover. Koujin slowly realized over the course of this fight that not once did Chōjirō have any sort of kido-based attack, instead he relied on speed, experience and an incredibly powerful jab to overwhelm his opponents. It was then that Koujin noticed that when fully used accurately, the tip of the rapier was incredibly powerful, immensely so, and that must be the effect of having such a weapon, a stab that can pierce nearly anything with enough force to shatter rock and stone, or poke straight through bone.
Nevertheless, having such an advantage is useless when faced with someone who specializes in long range, and Koujin had made sure that Chōjirō was not someone you wanted up close and in your face. The course of the battle progressed down a road not unlike many other battles seen in the Gotei 13, Chōjirō and Koujin sharing blows, trading off on defensive and offensive patterns and styles. Slowly time caught up with the both of them, they grew tired, there fighting became inconstant, sporadic and the breaths and rests taken in-between became longer and longer. Neither held the advantage very long anymore, and it was coming down to the wire. It all came down to who could outsmart and trick the other person; in fact, this entire match was nothing more than a pissing contest between two men, the only difference is that something was at stake that was greater than both of them were. If one is declared the victor, the reign of fire continues, if the other, it is a wave of fresh air and change. Koujin fought for the stronger will, Chōjirō fought to defend his; in the end it was Koujin that was left standing, barely but standing never the less. Koujin won by a margin of error on Chōjirō part, pretending to slip in the mud, Koujin stabbed his sword into the ground to keep his balance, Chōjirō say this as a perfect time to strike and flew forward in a classic piercing move that would have rendered Koujin unable to stand. By impaling his sword into the ground, Koujin did the one move that Chōjirō failed to see; Koujin in a last ditch effort, released a fully explosive * Kaseigan* directly on the oncoming Chōjirō, the move was a success and Chōjirō flew back and landed on his back with a thud and a squelch in the mud.
Koujin ever the victor walked over to were Chōjirō lay on his back, the rain beating down on the both of them, Chōjirō clothes still burning from the lava, rocks covering parts of his body as they had hardened from the impact. Koujin was not without loss, he gazed around him for a moment, 3 huge walls of rock divided the area in thirds, huge boulders and obscure shaped rocks lay scattered everywhere, shattered rock skein about, it did not look like a battlefield, but more of a geological formation. No one spoke, the air was silent except for the still hissing column of rock in the distance, Koujin walked over to his peers and sat down, and exhausted mentally and physically, he was drained to an extreme point. Two people carried him off without a word or prayer; their footsteps could be heard a good distance away as the mud quickly washed away their footprints. The triumph for Koujin was quickly removed with sleep, and for the next near week he slept it off, walking up at odd times, oddly enough he didn’t hear anything about Chōjirō for a week until he had awoken, but after that he was deeply rooted, doubt had left him, fear and anxiety were washed away in that rain, he was different and better for it, even if the inevitable occurred.
*Masa Notes* I left Chōjirō open in case I didn't "pass the test" so to speak, I made it so it can be construed that he died, or that he recovered, I like covering my bases in either case, but over all I am proud of it so I am glad I did it, you guys can take that for what its worth as my reputation is not much better than Ravana's here, but in any case it was fun, I hope whoever wants to read that likes it just as much as I did writing it. Chao
