TaySMR
New member
There was something to be said about a girl who was trapped in a cage of her own making. She held the power of life and death within her hands and yet she failed to be decisive. Would this inability to act be the reason for her demise? Perhaps a better question to ponder was whether or not she should even move. A feeling of dread came upon her as she immediately understood the lack of care expressed towards her by Captain Mukuro’s actions. All that she wanted was to be useful to him. He had given her a chance when everything around her had crumbled. Ironically, he had given her life when she was resigned to death. Within her mind, synapses begin to fire in a different way. For one reason or another, it seems as though Utsuro cannot stay silent and obedient for once.
Within the corners of her mind, a vision of her past comes forth. It was the day she first communed with Omoikane. What little hope she had for happiness was immediately disposed of. He was just like the rest of her family. A lack of care oozed from him that was not at all covert. Over time, this had evolved into it consistently berating the Kuchiki. Time and time again, she would attempt to cover her ears so that his voice would go away. But that never happened. Instead, she was forced to deal with him on a daily basis while also dealing with horrendous treatment and grueling training. Eyes that once winced with both physical and emotional pain soon dulled. The hands that once desperately clung to her ears slowly dropped to her sides. All of the abuse she endured did, in fact, still bother her. However, it became easier to deal with over time. As a detrimental method of coping, she discarded any emotions that she once had—or so she thought.
Time seems to halt around her. Nothing moves and everything that was in motion no longer appears to be. At least, that’s what it looks like to her. This is not a delusion or anything of the sort. Instead, this is something that happens at a rate that exceeds the speed of the events around her. Something like this can only be achieved within one’s own psyche. Unlike earlier, this communion with her Zanpakuto is not one of oppression in favor of Omoikane. Their interaction occurs in what feels like a millennium, but appears to be an instant.
”Are you gonna die here, Kuchiki?”
A snarky tone emits from the being across from her. It takes its usual shape – that of a tan male with cold, pale red eyes and light gray tinted hair. His vision is limited to one eye until it’s not. His body is half corporeal until it is not. Omoikane’s figure constantly fades in and out in a motion that is akin to breathing. He awaits a response as his smile grows more smug.
”I… I don’t know.”
For some reason, even in the potential face of death, she falters. Yet, there is a feeling growing within her. It is a foreign feeling, but not totally unknown. Perhaps it is something long-forgotten.
”Utsuro.”
Since knowing her Zanpakuto, it has never referred to her by her first name. A genuine look of shock takes over her face as she matches the gaze of Omoikane without hesitance. His smile has gone from malicious to warm—another thing she has never experienced.
”Call my name.”
There has never been anything that Utsuro was more sure of in her life. Her hesitation, doubts, concerns, and avoidant behaviors are dismantled in an instant. The domain that they reside in begins to glow as Omoikane has rematerialized before the woman. Her hands come forth and cup his cheeks. Inching closer, it appears as if their lips will touch. Just before they do, Utsuro begins to speak, each word igniting the world around them with an illustrious blue light to signify their bond.
Disassemble the Heavens. Rearrange the Earth. Come forth and reconstruct this realm.”
At the exact moment that Ochitsuki makes his move, all that can be heard from the girl is the final word spoken to her Zanpakuto—the only word to reach the world outside of her mind, and that word is:
”Omoikane.”
Her superior relished the thought of murder. No, it would be more accurate to say that he relished the action of murder. Although she paid little attention to him outside of what he ordered her to do, she was aware that murder was not the only thing he was capable of. Torture was also his forte. Though, all that was on her mind was survival. Not once had she ever thought about herself. Now, she was going to do just that. Utsuro was not just fighting for herself, no, she was also fighting to protect her newfound love for her Zanpakuto. It all made sense now—she was him and he was her. Their clashing ideologies came from her internal strife. Such conflict had ceased entirely at this moment.
When Omoikane’s name is called, Utsuro’s hands are suddenly covered by gloves. These were important, yes, but they were just one medium by which her abilities operated—a great one, at that. As one thing is gained, another seems to fade. Her katana fades entirely when the gloves form, making one question whether or not it ever existed in the first place. It has yet to take shape again, but whether or not this is important is up to her foe to decide. He believes that overwhelming her while she is kneeling will lead to her demise. Perhaps his eagerness to kill has blinded him to the fact that she existed within the 2nd Division for a reason, even if she had been faulty up until now. It would be a grave mistake to believe that she would not notice him springing into action. Ochitsuki seeks to harm her before the bead of sweat that rested on her forehead could make its way to the ground. The two were a matchup that contrasted well in abilities. However, Utsuro now believed that even with what he held in his arsenal, she could do what he sought to do to her and thus turn the tables. Unlike him, she did not particularly care about hurting another person. She had never been opposed to it, but that had changed in a single conversation. The will to survive worked wonders when it came to battle.
The psycho succeeds at blowing the bead of sweat from her left to her right with his actions. But not in the way he intended. No, it is what she does that disrupts the natural flow of events around them that causes this. If he believed that his Shunpo and killer intent would guarantee him this victory, then he would be mistaken. As Ochitsuki approaches Utsuro from many angles with multiple cards at play, he immediately finds himself struggling to move at all. This is not the work of any kind of Kido, no, it is the work of her Shikai’s ability. Instead of playing the game of multiple choice, the Kuchiki has chosen all of the above. Electing to utilize the carbon in the air by spreading open her right hand and making use of her blade that “disappeared” into the air simultaneously, the carbon that exists within the air around them has been reconstructed into hundreds of constructs resembling kunai, the density of such is not to be underestimated, as it is at least 20 times that of a diamond, but such a feat does not slow the pace of the assault at all. They intend to annihilate each image of the man who wishes to do her harm. There is no specific portion of each Ochitsuki’s body that they pierce, instead electing to skewer him from head to toe before he can continue his fiendish assault. She would not play his games, no, she had no time to do so when her life was in danger. His speed would not save him now. And should he try other tactics, she would continue to press the assault with the additional plans she formulated.
While her right palm opens, her left still rests on her body. The name of the game was carbon, so what else could she be doing with it while her right acted to counter him and then begin her onset? She did not believe that he would reach this answer within this battle, but should he actually succeed in making contact with her, he would very quickly realize that something was amiss with her and how she felt physically. A green light flashes briefly behind her neck before disappearing as she now stands upright and looks forward, electing to not attempt to place her eyes on the assassin’s physical form. No, she would continue to detect him through a combination of sensory and her senses—not one or the other. There were other ways to deal with his speed other than using just her eyes. The Kuchiki did not want to rely on reflexes alone, but she could if necessary. A member of her division – a high-ranking one at that – could be rather devious, so there was extra caution being placed on this situation. Overconfidence could be fatal, but so could a lack of confidence in one’s skills. Right now, she held neither. All that she could feel was Omoikane’s warmth coursing through her. As she rose from her kneeling position, a single noise repeated itself five times over, but of those five, two were slightly different. She had dropped small black orbs from her sleeves as she rose to a standing position.
What came next was up to Ochitsuki, but if he continued to think of her as a doll with only one purpose, then he would find out how grim the consequences of such a line of thought were.
