[BSD-RP] The Valley of Screams

[Shinigami]

[click every time ^]

The Opposing Itsuki manages to withstand the rising spiritual pressure exuded by Captain Kojima. Doing so in a sudden strategic influx rather than battling it head on. He must pride himself on his level of control. From such a simple act alone, Maho gauged that he held a respectable level of spiritual power within. Honestly speaking… it may have been a more vast than Maho’s own. He was no stranger to this reality, knowing full well that the act of increasing spirit energy’s volume is no simple task. Some are simply blessed with more abundant souls.
But Reiatsu was king. In a contest of pool vs precision it always tipped in favor of more precise execution. He took note of the counter force projected by his opponents soul. Well timed…Had he not done so, he was sure to fall in defeat. He had passed the vibe check.
Itsuki then utters something. Minor, a crack in his lips the only way to know. From this distance, it was hard to make it out, even for Maho who’s hearing ability was somewhat heightened. He paid this no mind, taking note of the small spikes in spiritual pressure. Something’s changed
Then, the presence becomes far less. This is the spell which bends light around the user. With it, they could conceal themselves and their techniques for a period of time. It worked best at removing the physical, but was equally capable of hiding spirit energy. It was not full proof however, Every technique had its flaws or shortcomings. Masters of the spell had an easier time peering through such a spell, others would need to rely on special techniques, and battle awareness to prevail. The Dragon had both.
Within this same breath, The Shinigami releases a hazy cloud of his spiritual pressure. It slowly creeps, crawling along the air, filling a twenty yard gap. It presses onward, strands of coral hovering over his black fists. The gray values begin to change, becoming accompanied with the same Coral hue. All of that latent spiritual energy is absorbed at a generous rate. Ippai Kinzoku (lit. Full Metal) Is the infamous constant release type Zanpakuto with the ability to alter its form on the fly. Not only could its individual components be controlled on the fly, but they could also integrate rival spirit energy within and adopt its effects. In a different setting, such a weapon would be ideal in large scale collaboration techniques.

The black steel integrates with it, recognizes it, becomes familiar. These limbs thrust out left and right, in a violent whipping motions. Both palms opening wide, fanning outward. Itsuki had only just activated his veil. If he could stop him now, that would be ideal. Maho wastes little time and even less effort bringing these hands together. Rather than remain at their current location, each simultaneously flickers away, warping to the left and right side where Itsuki had been standing. The tell for this is Maho’s own arms, which open and shut slightly, allowing the larger ones to follow suit. His fists clench together, showing physical resistance.
It takes a quarter of a second for their relocation to complete, blending back as if coming out from behind a mirror. As illogical as this seems, it is a reality one should be wary of. They clash head first into one another with monstrous might, Hoping to clasp themselves around him, whether it be a limb, an arm a leg. It mattered not. They collide into the center, unwavering in the fact that even if he had avoided collision, it would not deter them. What accompanies this clash is a loud gong like sound, that releases a violent surge of reiatsu on all sides. A shockwave is produced, enough to knock a man off his feet. It disperses a large section of stone, and disturbed the dust in the air. Being the target, a direct attack would leave him crippled and compressed between Ippai Kinzoku’s grasp, open to whatever follow up the Dragon decided upon.
By now, he would either be in Maho's grasp, or still free of it. If he was free, that would mean that Maho had failed to stunt the release of his blade.
“Weave the Heavens and the Earth together, Itobeni”
Itsuki murmors, his voice hidden. The small blade unraveling into an assortment of red rope. Now cloaked, Maho cannot yet see this change or the drastic nature of it, but he does not remain ignorant to its possibility. He figures anyone serious enough to pass this examination would be willing to show out. To use their sword….
Though…in the past…that was not always the case. There had been plenty who went out their way to avoid it. Why he could never understand.
He hoped this time would be different. Either way...
The Dragon refused to idle. preferring to stay on the move in order to find any opening. After his arms imitate a closing motion, he launches himself. His knee’s propel him higher and higher, having produced a step doing his previous stance change. His momentum carries like a stone thrown. This elevation gives him a wide view of the landscape. For what Maho could not see, he placed all of his effort into what he could sense. In what he could deduce. What noises he could pick up, no matter how subtle. The smallest imprint was all he needed. A shift or a change in the environment. Even if it all came down to his gut intuition he would trust it without much question.

In order to test Itsuki’s response to numerous threats, Maho decided that with each passing moment he would deliver more pressure in order to reveal a diamond! Two more hands form at Maho’s five(o’clock), and his eight(o’clock). They were the size of a normal humans and they would follow him a few feet, as he came to the peak of his ascension. Hovering just behind him, the two fists drop like comets, sweeping across one another's path in two opposite directions. The curve around the first pair of giant fists, from a downward angle. From this movement pattern, it was safe to assume that they were attempting to overtake both larger arms, now clasp tightly together. They would orbit, in a swivel around the diameter of the large black mass. The purpose? To cut off a rearward escape. Their placement on both sides was a strategic one. Intuitively place as hazards to an attempt to maneuver to either side. In this situation, backward or up were the safest bets. Though moving backward could very well backfire in the long run, it was the most expected of outcomes. On paper anyway. In practice, everything in battle was subject to change. He was more than prepared to play the long game. This is what Full Metal was for.
Lets see how you handle some real artillery.
At the bottom of Maho’s feet, a swath of reiatsu coalesces, a great volume that was easily detected by even the most basic of sensors. Still in a lunging position, his knee’s bend upward into the air, with his upper thighs pressing into his chest. His body curls up into a near ball like shape and his legs act as coiled springs, gathering force in preparation for a show of great power. His arms remain thrust out wide on each side, the black steel covering them glowing with a prominent transparency. For whatever reason, they did not adopt the coral coloring in the same way the extensions did.
His movement was dynamic, browned locs swaying chaotic against the airs resistance. His pants flutter against the sky. This freedom of movement! Maho recognized that the Valley of Screams was an environment to let loose, not hinder and hide. It was one of the few chances a Shinigami got to truly be themselves, as far as combat was concerned. He had to make sure Itsuki knew this. Knew that he could be called to dig deep within himself. He would be forced into revealing it all. Now was the time. He was allowed to display all of his power. Allowed to let it escape him unrestrained.
Maho observes the trail of dust form in the distance. Displaced rubble separates in a line, being drawn by Itsuki’s sturdy retreat. Had he not paid attention to his footing? To the changes in his environment? Kyokku hides the user but it fails those without careful footing. It does not hide the landscape they interact with. Had he stood higher, he may have come to recognize this. Oh well...The stones that are turned. The best way to describe it, would be likened to leaving footprints in the snow or sand. A keen hunter could catch the prey slightly up the path. And strike from afar. He takes aim, His eyes acting as his iron sights, leading just a portion ahead of the line of dust. Until that perfect moment....
Gotcha!
He ponders the probability of this being a trap and observes how his arms interact first, before making his decisive move.. Thinking two moves ahead, Maho has already charted his next two maneuvers. Would he succeed? Or would they be met with direct resistance. It mattered little in the end, for the Dragon prepared to dive upon its prey, his claws protruding. He took aim and readied himself like a canon. Knowing that, all that remained in the impact zone would not escape unscathed. There was soon to be a grand collision off sorts. Itsuki would…Do well to clear the scene

 

[Shinigami]

It is a folly of greatness to take for granted what one has; and in this moment, it was obvious the Dragon-esque Captain had flown too close to the sun… and this would be the moment his wax wings melted. He had taken into himself the toxic love that is Itsuki’s euphoric force; as the great steelish arms of his Zanpaktou flickered the same relaxed coral hue as the haze it ate with gluttonous vigor he would be subjected to the hauntingly relaxed effects of The Smiling Reaper’s reiatsu, after all to absorb & use is not the same as to have immunity.
As his presence creeped through Kojima’s every fiber, encroaching the mind of Maho much like the fog that swam between the two Shinigami in reality, it began laying siege to his heart, mind, and soul it would be almost impossible to remain battle hardened or concentrated… It would be as if all his stress, all his need to be serious just… melted away. In this moment only lethargy often remains; Itsuki however still responded with urgency as the steelish appendages had swept across the field, staggered and belligerent now but still fierce-- he applied, if anything, a greater urgency to his pivotal thrust backwards that had him end up sixty yards beyond Maho with his dearest Itobeni roused from their sleep, still avoiding Kojima’s strike if just barely.
His sound suppressed by the Kyokko, Itsuki still was guarded having decided even a drunk could still get a lucky drop and side stepped with a Shunpo twice; each closing a distance of ten yards to the left thus rendering any immediate strikes towards the general direction he’d originally been in meaningless. Though more pressing he was unaware of the Captain’s familiarity with Kido and had now pumped him full of a sedative, Itsuki worried that the Captain may be able to produce them now. He couldn’t help but reason that… moments before he’d watch the ebony constructs take on a color identical to his own dampened reiatsu. Could he be wrong? Of course, but Itsuki wasn’t foolish enough to risk it. Instead of remaining still Itsuki figured he only had a few moments before the raging sea that is Kojima broke the lulling siren song of Itsuki’s reiatsu, having only just landed he commanded silently the trunkish tether of rope that came erect from the handle of his Zanpaktou, a school of crimson threads swimming from the greater spool of Itobeni. Thousands-- literally thousands of strains no thicker than a single strand of hair encircled like starved sharks where Kojima had been just moments before, the same space occupied by Itsuki just before he vanished.
The threads, veiled by the same spell that kept Itsuki unable to be detected by those unfamiliar with the mechanisms of the spell and masters of the Kido Arts themselves, had within seconds created a great but patchy dome of thread around the twenty yard radius that Kojima and Itsuki had occupied. Itsuki took a deep breath in and steadied his resolve-- on the hunt one may not be plagued by the symptoms of humanity. Itsuki breathed out, and as his chest heaved his eyes fixated with the intensity of a monster… a true killer. Suddenly his presence could be felt by any and all… but there was a catch… his presence throbbed… it felt like an all-consuming heartbeat that could overwhelm many sensors, especially those sensitive to energy and not expecting a sudden mental shockwave. As suddenly as the mental shock came a deep blood color smog seemed to ooze into existence from every direction. The nightmarish scene was just a prelude though… yes Itsuki had used Itobeni to create a sphere of influence to channel the deeper… richer… more terrifying force of his Reiatsu… but that was simply to create the illusion of Itsuki coming from every direction. If he attempted to again ingest the reiatsu of Itsuki then Kojima would find this a far more dangerous dosage, too much of a good thing is never truly good after all. The reddened field, the stronger sedative, and if he attempted to peer beyond the maelstrom that now gravitated around him Kojima would find hundreds of identical signatures. Itsuki, using his great speed and unique intelligence once more showcase how fearsome his imagination could be, he had hundreds of strings silently stirring beyond the dome with his exact same level of Reiatsu-- none of them fiercer than a Rukongai citizen.
Itsuki wondered… If Kojima lost his mind in the great sea of his swollen force… would he actually believe he was being surrounded by citizens of the Rukongai? The idea was definitely amusing, but Itsuki was still in the midst of his devious machinations. In the same moment his energy suddenly without warning blasted into the physical world and flooded the encirclement with his burgundy infection he began his true attack… his beloved Itobeni, known for their manipulative nature, would begin to rapidly shift their density. It all happened so quickly. One cycle.. Two… three… four… five… six… and seven. Within a mere three seconds the dome had created seven immense shockwaves… the weight shifting between light as a feather and denser than a ton… the shock waves that pushed from all directions, save for the ground, would be enough to pulverize anyone unprepared or without immense physical durability into a bloodied stew.
As Itsuki waited beyond the crimson but invisible prison his Zanpaktou made, the battle had only just begun but he remained vigilant. Itsuki skulked like a hyena along the border of the sixty yards… the threads that danced beyond the dome swaying in their own directions as well. Itsuki was truly a dastardly soul for resulting in drugging, psychologically toying, and even attempting to truly bring death… but to him this was natural… to him this was the burden of being a Captain… If you cannot endure going through Hell, you cannot endure wearing a Haori.

 

[Shinigami]

[click every time ^]

Maho’s fist collide uninterrupted, though he found that Itsuki continued to allude him. His extensions meld perfectly into one, the fingers and palm collapsing together with a splash. It shapes a perfect orb and results in a small shockwave propelling a great cloud of dust and stone in all directions. The black mass carries onward an extra fifteen yards, refusing to come to a full stop, but ultimately peaking in speed. Its path situates just a foot off the ground, doing so in what appears to be blind pursuit. Maho could not see or directly pinpoint his location, just a general outline given all the data he had on hand. It did not matter. As far as Itsuki needed to know,
The Dragon could see through him.
He could find him regardless of what he did.
From these heights, it probably appeared as if he was tracking him with his eye alone, despite being hidden by Kyokko. Just how long did such a spell last anyway? How many techniques could be used before that veil became weakened?
Either way, Maho's wide scale act was indeed, a blind one. Accompanied with just a pinch of tactical analysis. Maho chooses to bet on his instincts, rather than give into doubt.
In...
then out...
His energy gathers at his feet, like a strong inhale, storing enough for a contentious release of strength. The second pair of black fists, which had shaped at his rear orbit toward his front, colliding into a singular black mass just two feet in front of his legs. With great effort, A flash of light overtakes the skies, blinding unsuspecting spectators. A blistering wave of heat overcomes the airspace as tendrils of conflagration flare chaotic, in streaks that span several meters, dissipating as it descends through the air. Maho had Ignited his very soul. The Dragon Stance allowed Maho Kojima to ignite his Shunko at will. This is because his flames burn with such intensity that they harm his body. To mitigate this, he concentrates fire to less intrusive areas on his body, specifying and limiting their use. In retrospect, he had more to fear in overusing these flames. Last time, he scorched his insides and had to heal for months. Opposing spiritual pressure mattered far less in comparison. When combined with the Iron Stance it made for spectacular results.

What follows is the terrible sound of meteoric combustion. Chaotic and full, it strikes the air like a canon. A thunderous.
CLAAAAAANGGGGKKK!!!
overtakes two of the five basic senses, temporarily cutting off ones ability to see beyond the flash, or to hear beyond the blast.
This mass accepts its masters command. His feet pressing into the malleable blob. it compresses like a spring against its masters weight. Acting as a piston, it extends with force, the explosion, propelling it toward the ground. It narrowed around the edges in order to improve aerodynamics, elongating into a long five foot spike. A spire of fire trails behind it, adding to its impetus with each passing moment. The further it travels, the more intense the speed. It rockets into the larger black mass formed at ground level. Itsuki’s shifts his movement is an attempt to create an additional forty five yards space to which he would only be allowed half that. There would be no time to settle by the time Maho’s weapon meets its mark. It moved like a bullet, clearing the extending thirty yard gap between the two in just under a half second. Even as he attempts to motion to the left in two steps, his Hoho does not allow him to escape effortlessly. He would have to back his escape while death lingered just at his heels. The Boy was under heavy fire from above.
Maho’s artillery beelines, a straight line drawn across the firmament.
CLIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNKKKKK!!!!
The needle submerges, striking into the coral coated black mass. Like a flint, this generates an abnormal spark. There is enough force to carry the black orb into the dirt. Both black masses acclimate into one another. This spark is accompanied by another flash, then a grand explosion transpires. This explosion is composed entirely of spirit flames, It generates an unruly denotation.The metal within splinters, ejecting in every direction, like a grenade jammed with shrapnel. This blast churns up the earth. As the shrapnel scatters, the fires race across the landscape, the blaze stretching to a full one hundred ten yard diameter at its furthest point. The point of impact would become a lifeless expanse, encompassing an entire fifty-two yards. Beyond that initial stretch, moderate damage extended for up to eighty yards beyond the center, and the relative 'safe zone' was everywhere beyond that. This is because at this distance, even a third seat could raise their spiritual pressure to easily defend themselves. Too much energy is lost this far out from the epicenter with several gapes being made in each independent shard of shrapnel at the outer edge of their airspace. Thankfully, Maho opted to store that extra Reiatsu well in advance. It afforded him a more concentrated influx of power to call forth. There was certain validity behind this attack.

These countless streaks of ebony, some twelve feet in length, swarm, with machine like synchronicity. They streak against the wind and extend in an omnidirectional manner, indiscriminate to any known or unknown specifics. He didn't need any. They continued to gather any lingering spirit energy, independent of Maho’s direct person, with no adverse effects to him whatsoever. Ippai Kinzoku represented freedom of utilization. Freedom of movement. Freedom of choice and freedom of control. With it, the Dragon was free to move as he wanted. Too close or extend the distance of a fight at will. Only a force that was outright beyond his level could overwhelm him in such a manner. Such was the result in a between near equal forces. Itsuki had to learn this the hard way.
The circular movements in turn influence the lingering inferno, containing it, shredding at all that remained inside. Itsuki exerts more physical effort into his cloaked escape. Maho had prepared his assault a step ahead to compensate for his own lack of specifics to go off. If his enemy would hide, he would simply find him by way of elimination. This would interrupt the attempt to encircle Maho in rope, as he had no intention of closing the gap physically just yet. He had previously left into the air, not toward his opponent. With the explosive force generating from his emission of flame, the pressure propels the dragon another forty-five yards higher up. Fire engulfs his heels and he flies in a direct path northward, being the direction Itsuki had idled initially. It is all he has to go on, and so he strikes, not entirely blind…more so as an educated guess. The explosion outstretches the entire one hundred yards in just one and a half seconds, a plume of heat towering twenty or so yards into the air. These blades span out with no discernible end, this artificial vortex spacing further and further out until the flames can no longer be contained by their motion. The fires dissipate, revealing each and every shard of black in perpetual motion. A true sight to behold, by way of control. A complete opposite outcome to what he thought would occur from Ippai's ingestion of his prized 'sedative. Which from where he had been standing...had zero effect.

Had Itsuki put forth some thought, he would have notice that these arms willingly adopting this foreign spiritual pressure. Doing so with no resistance or hesitation. Almost as if they had done so numerous times before.
Maho was aware that he commanded them out of pure force of will. They were at all times autonomous of the user. Despite being in sync. As Zanpakuto are opposite entities of their welders, placed upon the same coin. When they drew upon his spirit energy. They did so all their own. This was evident in the difference in color. The Coral latched onto the large hands on the front lines. Maho's arms, the ones attached to his shoulders, were coated in the conduit for his control, which radiated his standard Reiatsu's value of gray and white. Though no negative affliction would come over him, the knowledge of this spirit energy's particular 'flavor' was relayed back. His spirit speaks to him within his mind eye. In this way he knew of its function, it intended to deplete the mind of its facilities. Bringing forth a feeling of inebriation to mind. Something Akin to being high a lifestyle to which Maho was no stranger. He was familiar with lethargy. Maybe he would ask Itsuki to bottle some of this up for him later. What fine energy...
His absorption functions as a sort of Micro-dosing procedure. First, his Zanpakuto devours an enemy force, and comes to understand it. If it had been water, the weapon would have adopted a water like quality. transfusing from clear and gray, to the consistency of whatever is absorbed. If it was electrical energy, then the weapon would hold onto that charged. These effects do not Harm Maho in the process, that Is unless he fails to release all of what is stored in a reasonable timeframe. To avoid "Overload" he could release the energy periodically. That is why it was believed that Maho’s unique Zanpakuto was the best option for collaborative assignments.. He could adopt a number of different spiritual energy types all at once, combining their unique qualities for one big wide scale attack. The investigator needed to do his homework. This automatically lessened the scale of release, but a full overload required far more energy to be acclimated into Full metals maw. When it came to a battle between Captains, their individual Reiatsu effects were a useless ploy. You cannot automatically overwhelm an equal or superior force with only the lingering effect of ones soul. To believe so was a rookie mistake.
Maho is able to orchestrate his artillery with minuscule shifts of his digits. His right hand traces numerous geometric forms. His fingers widen to express the emission of black shards, he rotates his wrist in the same clockwise motion, prompting them to spin at their rapid pace. Like a conductor, his hand sways in a dance in no discernible pattern. He completes his orchestra with a upward thrust of his index finger, previewing the next shift in his Zanpakuto's evolution. Had Itsuki failed to escape the blast zone, he would be burned from within, torn apart on all sides by countless foot long blades moving in a chaotic, unspecified manner. This explosion caused chaos to which could not be ignored. Maho looks down on the battlefield, moving consistently northward as a jet stream. From the ground, Maho was now fifty seven or so yards above the valley of screams. Believing that Itsuki had survived. He would hold his right arm in the chamber, the same grey value brightening along the length of his natural limb. He waited for the man to abandoned his petty tactic and fight. Had he managed to survive the explosion AND continue his onslaught of threads, Maho's inability to hold still would buy him some time, as these invisible strands of rope would need to extend and pursue him as he jetted through the air from their place of origin. He changed his direction periodically, soaring ahead with flare. He had interrupted Itsuki's escape again, without having a one hundred percent read on his location. The blast occurred before he could make it the entire sixty yards but timed itself with the forceful rise in his opponents spiritual pressure. It would ultimately go noticed, acting against Maho's own spirit energy, acting as a counter force that only increased the volatility of the explosion even more. The more he allowed to be drawn into the numerous extension of Ippai Kinsoku's will, the less the reality that he believed would occur would take place, for no matter how much he took it, those Reiatsu effects would never hold.
Come harder...Itsuki san.
Maho explores the possibilities in his mind further, growing impatient with the lack of creativity he was beginning to witness. High above the field of battle the Dragon had nothing to fear. He was the only one fighting. In his mind at least.
The battle raged with no clear winner in sight, but already plenty of destruction on the table. How would the contender....contend? Would he avoid all that had come his way AND accurately counter attack?
Only fate held the answer.

 

[Shinigami]

Itsuki’s brow furrowed as he could easily discern that Kojima did not feast upon his succulence, his strikes too steady and his own energy seeming drawn to the blackened steel of Kojima’s Zanpaktou rather than Kojima himself. Itsuki heaved a great sigh as he began his pivotal push backwards, still rousing his dear Itobeni, and still intending to clear at least forty yards. His mind was awhirl with a slew of ideas; smiling widely Itsuki felt by no means defeated in this moment, through Hell and highwater he was ready for whatever may come from his opponent, this was his great moment of folly.
“...Hm?”
As Itsuki sailed backwards, avoiding the strikes of the great blackened arms, he became oddly weary of their non-pursuit after only a mere fifteen years had been closed. It was this curiosity that Itsuki would soon come to regret as Maho set ablaze the skyline and his soul. Itsuki didn’t even have enough time to process what was happening, this was such a foreign ability, such a unique moment that nothing… nothing could have prepared him for the sudden blinding light that made Itsuki howl a deep mangled cry. He clenched his teeth hard, his tightly shut eyes bleeding tears red with regret, every fiber of his being was on edge now… his playfulness had obviously taken the better of his instincts… but that would no longer be the case. As he continued to catapult backwards his one hand clutched the handle of Itobeni so tightly his knuckles ran pale, his other though… it flung out a solitary flick. In the same moment that he was blinded, the same moment he could feel the heat fast approaching like a starved beast, Itsuki had used... Oni Dekopin.
The Shinigami had used the Hakuda technique to increase his speed by tenfold, now easily clearing above and beyond his intended distance and even narrowly avoiding becoming barbeque within the very half a second it had been since the technique was used. The ground that had been struck by the pressure of Itsuki’s mid-flight flick was upturned, a deep scarring crater now ajar in the face of the field; an unintentional but misdirection the crater almost appeared tunnel-like due to the angle Itsuki had been in when he used the technique. He soon landed… two hundred yards further than he originally planned.
Itsuki slammed his waraji clad feet to the ground, not even taking a moment to lick his own wounds… with haggard breathing and eyes still trying to regain the sight stolen from him, Itsuki quickly steadied his footing. While the crackling and booming of Kojima’s machinations could still be heard clear as day, Itsuki was at a safe enough distance to not be severely afflicted by it. As for the great blinding light? Itsuki still hadn’t regained his sight, having chosen to keep his eyes sealed shut until the intense aching had dulled, left the lightshow while impressive… unknown to Itsuki for the time being. Itsuki even at this distance could feel Kojima’s presence; his fiery soul like a Summer Sun, the Captain was truly not one to scoff at… but neither was Itsuki.
In the half a second it took Kojima to launch his needle, Itsuki too made his move… He stroked the handle of Itobeni, silently commanding the thick gnarled rope to shoot out strings, like webs from the thorax of a spider, though at first the great slab of rope seemed to just lay flaccid on the ground. As Kojima painted a fiery Hellscape, Itsuki took this moment to create his own wonder of awe and terror… He pointed his beloved Itobeni’s handle towards the ground before jerking it upwards in a fluid whipping motion.
“Let the nightmare begin…”
Itsuki barked with an excited snarl, a manic almost crazed flame aglow in his bloodied eyes that had just begun to crack open. In the same moment he spoke, the same moment Kojima’s fireball impregnated with shrapnel raged far & wide two things happened beyond the control of Kojima… Firstly, Itsuki released his Kyokko allowing for Kojima to once more see the ginger giant and his bloodied eyes & secondly Itobeni’s thick knotted length suddenly stirred… the few seconds it had spent seemingly unmoving it had actually spent burrowing… infesting… crawling deep into the earth. Before even half a second could pass since the explosion simmered down Kojima would be greeted by a count of three hundred crimson tendrils that sprung from the very ground beneath the Captain, even as he took to the Heavens like the Angel he was, Kojima could not escape the pursuit of the red string of fate it seemed. Each thread was no thicker than an eyelash, yet as they thrashed around the Captain he would be easily able to feel the very airspace being stirred into a frenzy by the immense force each thread carried, much like Maho’s own Zanpaktou, Itsuki’s Itobeni was not something to take lightly. Itsuki had actually begun shifting the weight whenever the tendon-esque like strings drew close to Kojima changing it from as light as a feather to heavier than a ton. In truth, Itsuki sought to either mangle the body of Kojima with such heavy strikes of thread that his flesh peels and bones buckle or have the shockwaves produced by each lashing do that job for him; either way Itsuki was intent on doing serious damage, and his beloved Itobeni was more than up for the job.
As Kojima focused on conquering the Heavens, Itsuki focused on reigning in the Underworld. What did this mean? Simply put, not every thread that crept beneath the face of the Valley of Screams had surfaced, some still burrowed deep beneath the lifeless ground. In particular, Itsuki silently commanded sixty of these threads to rise, if only just ever so slightly enough to crown into the surface world without notice. They peaked from mountains, mounds of dirt, boulders, and even seemingly random spots of ground, though if Kojima were to somehow notice these weed-like threads that were no thicker than a needle, he would be able to see... they were all angled at him as they spanned across a one-hundred yard radius in each direction.
Itsuki wasn’t going to let injury, dismemberment, nor even the threat of Death stop him from sinking his fangs into Kojima, he was excited for the first time in a long time… he finally had someone he could play with and not fear breaking.

 

[Shinigami]

[click every time ^]

The Dragon scrutinizes his work, q vast crater surrounded by rubble. The size of a human football field, He offers himself a stadium wide view of Ippai Kinzoku at work. His attack had gone off without a hitch. His opponent had tried to hide and he knew the only way to overcome such a thing was to force him out, by any means necessary. If you’ve got the power, why not flaunt it? He takes note of the unturned earth that erupts beyond his blast range, That must be him
A stream of fire allows the dragon to dash through the skies. His body surpasses through the sound barrier, with a sonic boom. His path always skyward, ever higher he climbs. The energy in his right arm has continued to accumulate, to the point that its presence alone is felt. His eye scans all that he sees, noticing when Itsuki’s cloak comes crumbling down. All that remains is a tower of smoke accompanied by lingering swath of flame that dots the landscape.

He is a hundred yards beyond Maho’s explosion. He must have used some unconventional technique to clear the blast zone.
That’s the only way he could have gained enough speed to get so far. Around him, countless ropes and fibers of varying sizes propagate his airspace. They litter across the ground, piercing the threshold into the world below. Some where large, but these larger strands split off into countless networks of near-invisible threads. Lucky for Maho, each strand held reiatsu, no matter how faint. He searches through his minds eye, diving deep in order to expand his consciousness. He can see within, the very sway and flow of these countless threads, as they weave and bend through the earth. Like a deep root system he makes out the countless pathways and understands what is to come. They aim him down. He prepares himself for war, allowing sudden shifts in his reiatsu. These shifts cause his body to swivel left and right or up and down on a dime. A slight change around his left foot acts as a step, which propels his body to the right, he rotates several times gaining momentum as his spins off toward the left, With Itsuki two hundred yards in the distance, Maho clears fifty of those and counting. Traveling more so to the northeast, then due north.
The swarm of blades expands out, but with instructions from their conductor, they continue fly forward toward their opponent, This mass is much faster than Maho, able to cut through One hundred and fifty Yards in just three seconds. Certain sections begin to veer off, indiscriminate groupings beginning to flicker in and away from where they were with no particular order. It became evident that they were spacing around the remaining fifty or so yards. Maho does not know if he is blinded. But if he could watch the sky due south, he would notice that it has become riddled with a swarm of teleporting blades. As they encompass the air space over his head, most drop, in great volume, beginning first with twelve, which appear five and ten yards to his left and right, they quickly strike toward him from both sides simultaneously, able to clear that gap in a single breath.
Another groups flickers the same distance directly overhead, six in total.
One,
two,
three...

Dive straight down, timed to connect moments after the first group. By now, the three remaining above were accompanied by an additional twelve. The longer he stood in one place, the more would replicate and continue aimlessly. While the dominant mass dive-bombed, it would take a total of two seconds for the main force to reach him, those that were allocated to warping doing so at a much more irregular and rapid pace. These blades strike and swirl around his location, taking advantage of his standing still. It didn't matter where they struck, be it an arm or a leg. The head or the neck. Each irrelevant in the long run, so long as his flesh was marred. As they could freely move throughout the given space, constant movement was the only way to protect himself thoroughly, that or allocate some of his threads to his defense. They would keep coming, keep replicating, keep reappearing if he did nothing. Either way Maho was able to maintain this concentration all whilst storing energy in the chamber. Doing so did not undermine the consistent flow being maintained at his feet. He was now one hundred and twenty yards away from Itsuki himself, to the northwest.

A swarm of three hundred threads begins to converge on him from below, to which he responds. Having stepped, he begins a series of deliberate accelerations. As he changes directions, the alternating weight of these threads allowing them to move easy against the air. They gain on his position, each attempts to strike. Some alone, others at the same time. they meet only the empty space he had occupied moments prior. He maintains his evasiveness, swapping from left to right as they come, as a section strikes from below, he veers up and to the left, when they come from above, he dashes to the left or right, sometimes leaving a single fading image in his wake. Whenever they manage to draw too close, he alters direction once more, with a small flicker that places him mere feet out of harms way. He minds his limbs, tucking them closer to one another to protect any stragglers. His acute senses allow him to track the faint obstacles that riddle his path. Before long, he clears an additional thirty yards, being eighty yards beyond where he had started. The more pervasive he is pursued, the closer the gap between them got. He did not need to close the gap just yet, not until the time was right. He could maintain this pace. If he wanted this exam to become a long-range battle of attrition, then it was what he would get. His voice cries against the sky, taunting the Captain hopeful. His form swirling through the air, displaying perfect maneuverability.
"IKUZOO!!!!"