Shinigami
Administrator
“AAAAAAAGGGGGGGHHHHHH”
Oh how the mighty fall. The arrogant saint was clearly no match for the perfectly executed combination of the two Shinigami. Their chemistry—despite never fighting before—was impregnable; this was the true unified front of Shinigami. Kuro’s preference to work without comrades was not to be mistaken for mistrust in his military’s strength. Shinigami, above all, were superior. Which is why they, and they alone were responsible for the protection of Living Souls. Kuro’s burning strike came down with an inconceivable swiftness. A small glimpse of moonlight struck at the nearly dull surface of his blade, creating a single blinding glint. As the wave of black collided with its target, the sound of metal returning to its hiding place could be heard throughout. In one singular process, Kuro had already returned his zanpakuto to its sheathe upon his swing’s completion. Radiating from him was no extreme amounts of pressure, or anything to indicate a form of ascent. Reflected in his cobalt orbs was the image of a Jolly Saint enveloped in a swell of Kuro’s own flames. Something about it was… beautiful. He watched, intensely, the fire dancing about in a magical way as the sound of the bount’s flesh sizzling and popping serenaded him. But still, he was not defeated. Was he truly immortal as the teal-haired male had said? Kuro was more than willing to put the theory to the test, as he had already shown, and was eager to receive actual results.
The quincy that had participated from a considerable range even seemed to add to it all; the flames grew deeper, Santa was being reduced to a cinder. Or at least, Kuro had thought? The Saint cried out, and for a moment it was pleasing to hear, and in another it wasn’t. The somewhat normal sound of his defeat transpired into something different, something monstrous, groans and gurgles not resembling anything humanoid came from within the pillar of flame, Klaus seemingly begging for relief from his fiery prison. Surrounded, the remnants of his Icy Kingdom melting with each bit of his integrity lessened, Klaus is left to his torment, but seems hardly finished causing torment for those who have congregated to defeat him.
“Zeige Di….Zi...z…ZIEG DI….ZEIG DICH! REVEAL YOURSELF!”
The odd phrase is enough to cause Kuro to create a bit of space, returning the distance between he and the Saint to its former self in a single leap backward. The winds pick up, stirring about in the debris-filled aftermath of Klaus’ destruction. The bag that Klaus had dropped seems to be its source. The gust was only the calm before the storm, as a blizzard itself seems to manifest from the bag’s mouth. The shivering cold and wind alike is enough to cause Kuro to instinctively bring his arm over his face as a shield. Still, he can see, and what he sees is most disappointing at first. The cold grasp of the Saint’s bag is enough to completely rip the soul out of Kuro’s flames, dousing Klaus in a veil of ice. The meeting of such extreme heat and extreme cold in a single breath is enough to cause large amounts of steam to emanate from his person. The bag does not rest, still, shaking, rumbling, until from its depths emerges a mighty monster. Its presence alone is earth-shaking, eyes of red peering through a thick darkness. The world around them begins to shake, bend, contort? For a second alone Kuro can almost feel his reality split, blending between two different plan-
“Wait.”
And then it all ceases, Naruki reverting back to its former battered state as if nothing happened. The massive beast stops pulsating red from multiple places, a ghastly breath coming from the defeated Klaus before he lets out his final condemning roar.
“DAMN YOU RUKIA KUCHIKI! DAMN YOU SHINIGAMI! COME NEXT YEAR, I WILL MAKE A FEAST OF YOUR FLESH. AND YOU, HUMANS! DO YOU HEAR ME, FOOD?! I WILL-”
And just like that, the Saint’s tirade is cut short, his body becoming encapsulated in ice, before shattering into million pieces. The shimmering rain of the shards of ice creating a gentle, luminescent glaze over this part Naruki City. Beams of sun begin to peak through formerly blackened clouds, as the thawed city is cast in a blinding spotlight. Naruki was saved. Just as it was released, Kaitomoshi is reverted back to its sealed stay while still in the scabbard, resting until its talents were required once more.
“HEY! You two! Infact everyone! Is anyone up for a little celebration? I don't know about you but I want to get a drink in with the heroes of the city before we head to our respective homes."
Tch. What did he say, heroes? It was heroine to do your job, your duty now? Perhaps for those who have grown lax today’s efforts were that of a hero, but nor for Kuro. Before he could willfully decline the Quincy’s request, the mystery Shinigami proceeds to answer instead.
"Hmph, Well I wouldn't necessarily call us HEROES or anything but it has a nice ring to it. My name is Shizuka Hyouzoku and you are?"
Shizuka Hyouzoku?! As in.. the Third Seat of my division?
Kuro peers over his shoulder curiously; oddly enough the two had never met, but the name was more than known to the lower seated member. Hmph. The old man didn’t trust Kuro to deal with this himself? Maybe he was right, maybe Kuro needed to get… stronger. Without distraction, and without having to constantly emit his spiritual pressure to remain active, Kuro was able to better focus on his surroundings, pulling everyone into his scope now. It had become quite the party, it seemed. In a flicker, hardly perceivable to the less acute Shinigami, one of the spiritually aware humans appears. His appearance seems malicious, at first, Shizuka’s lightning-like reflexes preventing the masked man from receiving any advantages. The moment the two of their arms met with each other a shockwave came out as a concussive blast in the area. It caused the hairs on Kuro’s head to waver violently in the wind, while his hand had delicately created space between the Saya’s mouth and Kaitomoshi’s Tsuba. Shizuka and him were outnumbered, and perhaps this did not cause him concern, Kuro was much more cautious when dealing with strangers.
"What the hell do you want?"
“I rather you not waste my time, so I am only going to ask once! I need to know what is your connection with that creature who was just here!? Who is Rukia Kuchiki!? And who was the shinigami that was here 23 years ago that allowed a man and woman to die in an alleyway!? Tell me!"
Kuro couldn’t help but overhear. This masked man wanted information. Why such brash behavior, then? The two humans he mentioned.. some connection to them, perhaps? Regardless, this wasn’t their concern. Shizuka didn’t owe this fool any-
"I don't know who the hell that Bount was, but he's more of what you guys down here call myths and supernatural events. You know, shit that does not really make sense to normal standards. I have no connection to him, Rukia Kuchiki however is just some really old shinigami who helped save the world back when it was on the brink of erasure. Also why would I know anything about that oddly specific yet, super vague question. Like what alley way? There are so many. As well as alot people who die in alleyways, and alot of Shinigami as well. For someone this spiritually strong you're extremely misguided."
So one of 10th’s most famed fighters was also quite the diplomat. Still, Kuro didn’t think the stranger’s anger justified an explanation. Hopefully he understands and appreciates Shizuka’s mercy, not all will respond the same.
"I mean, I can kind of give you some insight on how the worlds really work. We can talk some more about it over these drinks if you're willing even though you don't seem like the party type."
And just like that. Seems everyone was traveling to this bar. Kuro initially had thought to decline but maybe he should go. Not for the same reasons as every else that’s for sure, but he had to monitor the situation closely. Shizuka could very well be walking into a trap. Seems nobody thought the way he did about this.. peculiar situation. Hmph. Before anyone would even look to notice Kuro had already pulled out his Denreishinki X and had his Gigai transported to him, in which he then proceeded to enter. Dressed comfortably in near-festive color, he stood with a maroon turtleneck and comfortable gray slacks, a pair of loafers tapping against the thawed ground. He was ready to follow the rest of them to Frederick’s Bar, though his handy dispenser carrying the Gikon still was in his possession in case the need to revert back to his Shinigami form arose.
