Perhaps that apparent weakness, that distasteful sediment that turned to ash in the mouths of both Commanders—past and present—was fading away. The roaring of the crowds did not lower a single octave from the moment the bell wrung, up until stretchers and exfil teams were being assembled to extract the wounded and quite possibly, the dead. In each and every bracket there was an explosion of power, an explosion of skill. The very thing he begged for, pleaded for to be present as they approached this new century, and turned over a new age. The visions of shadows and specters through the veil of shattered glass did not fade from his memory easily. Whilst Honoka’s procedure rendered him sane and nightmareless, every waking moment of his eternity in darkness was accounted for. Every second is documented, etched into his remembrance. This was the heart and soul of the games, the purpose for this bloodshed. Someone would see it as counterproductive, rendering many valuable pieces of their chessboard gravely injured or worse after this event, perhaps crippling their forces. In truth, it was the culling of the unfit, a chance to expose a myriad of warriors that could have emerged from the shadows.
In the first bracket, the Titan’s attention was unmistakenly drawn towards the lone Oki, the sole proprietor of her endangered bloodline. Her impromptu inclusion into the games was one to surprise the Commander, unsure of her intentions. Had he gone too far? Had he pushed her to the brink of suicide? Or did the somber woman have hopes of running the gauntlet in an effort to prove something to her former comrade? Was it a play at Masahiro, or a way to punish herself for allowing things to unfold the way they had? He could only wonder and only assume. Higen was not an individual to easily succumb to doubt, but he would be remiss to think that separating a mother from her child was not a near-unspeakable act. He would be judged for it in the eyes of many, but only a few would understand. His surprise is only further eclipsed by who it is that renders Honoka but a near-lifeless husk: The Fairy. The Kido Prince—aptly named—thwarts whatever Honoka’s plans may have been, removing her from the contest altogether. His growth is one to acknowledge, and should not be ignored. In a lot of ways Captain Nakamoto’s growth or change rather, could be metaphorically compared to his hair. His rather longer cut, with lengthy bangs constantly shifting in front of his eyes, limiting his view. Said bangs also acted as a shield, hiding the nervous and timid boy beneath them away from those that would cause him harm. Now, his mane shorter, his cut clean and concise; this exposes a Yu that very few have had the opportunity to know. One that was forged by the fire of Kyomu’s Blade, and belittled by the words of the former Commander. His ferocity, and his dedication to victory, all speak to a side of him that needed to be conjured should they have a chance at what was to come.
Lieutenant Ueki is now forced to take on the much more dangerous Captain Nakamoto. The quiet male seemed to have become more composed from his days prior, learning, adapting, doing his best to control that which could not be. His movements are swift, his sword is true, and there is a layer to all of his actions. Each swing could very well be a guise to foreshadow your end. On full display was his physical strength; titanic and earth-severing. Who would be the victor there? The second bracket unfolds as to be expected, for the most part–until it doesn’t. The man that Higen anticipated to have stumbled here entirely by accident, had become a foe worth fighting in a matter of moments. In the deepest depths of the Muken, A battle of swordsmen is afoot. Higen was not ignorant to Kyomu’s disdain for the games, as apparent in his demeanor; whenever one could remotely catch a glimpse of the three, that is. It was clear who would not have participated if not ordered to, but that too played into the Commander’s intentions. Perhaps the phantom was fatigued from slaughtering an entire clan, never a man to waste time on trivial bouts for entertainment. The games only confirmed Kyomu to be what the Knight had already known he was: A professional. The buddha exposes himself to be anything but; the man was more akin to a monster. The reveal of his hollow only further cemented this fact. The Commander had tensed up, should anyone notice, pandering through thought and memory alike to cause
one singular promise to resurface. He had every instinct to act on it himself—that is—until he became unsure if one of the individuals in Captain Oda’s bracket would carry out that promise on his behalf.
The Drunkard had Higen intrigued, intrigued enough to consider a proposition should he survive. There are very few that could stand in the ring with Kyomu Mukuro–however unmotivated–and the mad buddha himself. The outcome of this bout was the most interesting, while simultaneously the most concerning. Higen could be often seen squinting at the large screens, seeing if he recognized the man. Or even trying to hear the pitch of his voice beneath the jeering and heckling of the crowd and vendors. While The Commander himself was enveloped in interest surrounding the fight of the second bracket, the common folk seemed to struggle to keep up. The darkness of the Muken was only briefly illuminated by flashes of yellow and green throughout. What was troubling was how difficult it became to discern whether or not the man was serious, or had any competitive intentions at all. For the most part his very existence in the fight seemed like an accident, happenstance, yet somehow it was working in his favor, to the point where the crowds grew hush as they assumed he trumped the Kido Chief.
In the final bracket, the Hitsugaya standout is immediately disposed of, by no other than the Burst Prince himself. The man was used in an unfortunate game of ping-pong, before ultimately meeting his demise in the form of a cloud of ash and smoke. No fourth division members would be sent to his aid, as his existence in all its entirety was erased from the world we knew. In the instant of his end, the crowds can be heard in a state of confusion, not knowing whether or not to cheer or groan at the sight of an untimely death. Hiroka and his vibrant explosions paint the murky swamp in hues of orange and yellow, casting each miniature sun across the marsh to bring light where there was previously none. His coordination, his movements, and his ingenuity are what has kept him alive up until this point, whilst his rage was responsible for blowing the Omnitsukido member of his bracket to fragments. It is the very qualities of his survival, and his participation, that once had the man in contention for Captaincy. His fiery spirit is put to the test, when forced to face his former classmate and longtime friend, Captain Yugure. Kyomu’s former shadow known for being caught in every division without cause, raiding their stores and pantries, had blossomed into her role as a Captain. Her Vizard affliction, turned into a tool to protect and serve at the Seireitei’s will, as Higen allowed—for now. She was present with heat of her own, heat that the Commander was all too familiar with. Her massive Cero burning like a never-ending supernova was forced to be faced by her final opponent. Captain Hageshi stands unscathed, hell-bent on torturing those who were forced to stand in the arena alongside her. Unimpeded as she entered her Bankai. The woman was never known for her restraint but was a great adversary for the remaining two to test their meddle against to the fullest.
Higen could feel the end of the first round was near, and couldn’t be more pleased without how things played out. Not simply the display of strength by the combatants, but the true effectiveness politically of bringing the districts back together after a century of turmoil and distrust. Perhaps the connection between the Rukongai and the Seireitei can be emboldened once more. Everyone was doing their part, like the cogs of a well-oiled machine, ensuring both success and prosperity between the two entities. The death of Captain Asakura did not help, but with hope, soon, his presence will be replaced in order to get true order and a firm Shinigami presence within the Rukongai again.
Behind the podium at which he’d used to announce the games commencing, was a large bench where both himself and Kojishi resided. Resting, far enough above the ground to where the multitude of screens are widely in their view, unperturbed by the varying heights of the individuals that make up the crowd.
