Blade without Edge/Chapter Five

Chapter Five Ignorance and Instinct Chiyoko served them a simple, filling meal of fish soup, rice and pickles the next morning, and it was here that Takashi announced to Kishō that they would be visiting the waterfall at the head of Akakusa’s river that day before they left.

“You will need your Zanpakutō,” Takashi told him stiffly, hoping that they could set the tension from the previous night aside.

The sun was already a significant distance above the horizon, however, by the time they made their way up the steep incline to the base of the waterfall. The sky was clear that day, allowing the full sun to contact the water’s surface and send blindingly bright particles of light dancing across the rocks on the river’s edge. Here Takashi stopped and, turning towards Kishō, began first by making a short bow.

“I must apologize, for… my outburst last night,” he said, “I said things that were perhaps better left unsaid. As your lieutenant I have failed to keep my personal convictions from interfering with my duties, and I ask that you would forgive me for that. I… will not let that happen again.” The apology, while honest, was marked with a distinct formality that suggested he had closed off his own emotions from the humbling action, and even though he may have been a man who kept his word, it was unclear whether or not he was being entirely sincere.

The daishō were bound to his obi at the side of his left hip. He barely felt the Reiatsu, as his willpower to refuse the Zanpakutō had returned. Kishō certainly wasn’t enjoying the departure, once again stuck with his lieutenant, who had made his “intentions” pretty clear. At least, that is what the shorter Shinigami believed.

His eyes strained at Takashi’s act.

There was a moment of eerie silence before the Hōsōshi voiced himself curtly in a miffed tone, “I do not need your apology.” He continued to walk in the direction that Takashi walked initially.

The lieutenant straightened up and narrowed his eyes,

“That is good to hear,” he said, “Then I’m sure you will have no objections in drawing your Zanpakutō.” Takashi strode confidently to the water’s edge and began to remove his waraji.

I think he is ignoring you. Kohaku pointed out. Takashi glanced over his shoulder at Kishou in response, and sighed.

“This is part of your training, Hōsōshi-san,” he explained, and the patience in his voice was strained. Balancing expertly on the air just above the surface of the river, Takashi took a few, softly reverberating steps to the center of the river where he unsheathed his Zanpakutō. The blade glinted in the bright light, as if by reflecting the sun it were smiling in a way, eagerly waiting to cut into whatever obstacle stood before it. But Takashi simply turned it so that the tip of the blade was pointing down and, finding a relatively shallow portion of the water, plunged it into the river’s bed.

“It is something that was once taught to me a long time ago,” he continued, “And is meant to reveal the nature of your Zanpakutō.” Takashi brought out a handful of leaves that he had gathered earlier and moved a short distance up-stream. He allowed the leaves to fall, and watched as they drifted easily along with the current.

And the moment they neared the Zanpakutō, a faint ring became visible where the Reiatsu of the blade was creating its own ripple. It was barely visible, but if one stared closely they could see paper-thin cuts that perfectly bisected each leaf appear as they drifted past the bare blade. Takashi reached down and caught one of them, then with one, graceful motion pulled his sword from the river and leaped back to dry land. By the time he reached shore his Zanpakutō was already sheathed, and he held out the leaf in his hand towards Kishō.

“Each Zanpakutō has its own inclinations and tendencies in combat, which are based on the soul of the wielder itself. But there are two main natures that a Zanpakutō can possess; namely whether it is inclined towards externalizing its power, or focusing on the inner strength of the swordsman. It is said that masters of Zanjutsu can utilize both paths.” Takashi tried to recall the exact words his master had once used ages ago, but his heart was not in it, so he continued quickly, “If a Zanpakutō is inclined towards internalizing its own force, it will draw the leaves floating around it in towards the blade in a circle, but will not cut them. If, however, the Zanpakutō is more external in nature, it will cut cleanly through the leaves.” Takashi pointed towards the two halves of the leaf in his open palm. “The strength of one’s connection to their Zanpakutō determines the cleanness of the cut, or, conversely, the strength of the leaves’ attraction to the blade.” he paused, then motioned towards the river.

“The first step in mastering one’s Zanpakutō is to communicate with it. And to communicate with it one must first understand it. I want you to determine this for yourself.” Takashi said as he held out another handful of leaves for Kishō to take. “What do you say, Hōsōshi-san.”

Kishō narrowed his eyes at Takashi, he was very wary of his actions, nor did it matter that the lieutenant had demonstrated it. His explanation was pretty clear, but the shorter Shinigami had little interest in such affairs: he did not want to communicate with his Zanpakutō at all. As such, he definitely wasn’t amused that he would have to draw his daishō for this matter. “What if I refuse you once more, Sakuma-san?”

Takashi was a hair’s breadth from responding with another insult, but Kohaku stopped him, and he stalled.

“This task is simple enough, Hōsōshi-san, and poses very little threat to either you or me. I took the fact that you preferred to train alone into consideration, and assumed this would be well-suited to your preferences.” he was forced to consciously keep his voice at a calm, even tone. “I am only asking that you draw your sword and place it in the river. Please do not force me to turn the request into a command.”

“Fine,” Kishō placed his right hand on the wakizashi, doubt was evident in his eyes, as he slowly unsheathed it. He did the same with the katana with his left hand. And so, the blades revealed their clashing colours, a pearl-white and one of pure black, as their tips were pointed at the grass. The shorter Shinigami took a step closer to the edge of the water, before he began to walk on the water without any difficulty.

It felt wrong.

It was clearly visible that the source of his fear lied with the Zanpakutō. His hands trembled tremendously now that he was at the centre of the river. He followed the instructions of Takashi, allowing the point of the blades to sink into the water. Takashi came out to meet him.

“You should stand upstream of the Zanpakutō,” he said “It will help the flow of Reiatsu through the water.” he handed him the leaves, then returned to the river’s bank to observe.

Kishō followed the next instruction of Takashi. He took a step aside to stand upstream of the Zanpakutō. The leaves that the lieutenant gave to him were tossed into the water, and with a slight interest, the Shinigami observed their motion in the water. At first, Kishō saw no difference until they neared the daishō, where he focused his eyes at.

The clear water began to ripple in circles around both blades. Their Reiatsu poured into it, causing the water to faintly glow in a crimson colour, and it seemed as if the leaves were drawn to them. It was evident that the katana attracted them, as they continued to circle around it harmlessly. However, it was a different story when it came to the wakizashi, which had cut its leaves into pieces.

“What does this mean?” Kishō asked Takashi, slightly curious of the result.

Takashi frowned, crouching down to think as he too pondered the implications.

“Hōsōshi-san,” he began, “Have you… attained Shikai?” He turned his piercing, amber eyes to meet Kishō’s gaze and seemed to try and peer into his very thoughts.

The mention of Shikai snapped Kishō’s attention to Takashi entirely. He didn’t respond immediately, rather, it seemed as if he pondered whether he should answer honestly or not. Taking a deeper breath than before, he spoke,

“Indeed I have.” He continued, “I attained it hundreds of years ago.”

“I see,” Takashi muttered darkly.

“Hiroseike,” Kishō interrupted his lieutenant. “It’s the name of the Zanpakutō.”

Takashi stared at him a moment longer before straightening up. “If that is the case then it explains what we witnessed here,” he stated. “Your Zanpakutō must possess two natures: the katana having an internal inclination while the wakizashi is more external, like the Aka no Tsume.” he said as he placed his hand on the pommel of his own sword.

In response, Kishō moved forward to the daishō and sheathed them. “I see,” was his curt response about the explanation. He was still slightly confused, however, he understood the general concept of it. “What about mind-control? Is that normal…” he questioned, as he hovered his hand longer over the wakizashi before returning it to its sheath.

Takashi was shocked, but he did not convey it in his expression. He had not considered the possibility that Kishō had been an involuntary vessel of his own sword.

It would explain a lot. Kohaku commented. But still, doubt resided in the back of his mind. Even now Kishou could have been lying to him, and considering how defensive he had been it was not an illogical assumption to make. Takashi was about to question Kishou further, but decided it would be best to give him a more general answer. Whatever happened, he could not have Kishō suspecting him of ulterior motives.

Not today, at least.

“If, for some reason, the Zanpakutō has managed to gain control over the mind of the wielder it suggests a spiritual imbalance. A Zanpakutō and its Shinigami are meant to work in unison, and if there is a wrestling for power it only means that some part of the resonance has been disrupted.” he said. “Although such an occurrence would be extremely rare, I imagine. Perhaps it comes from a constant suppression of the sword’s voice.” his last phrase was meant as a suggestion, as if he were testing him to see how Kishō would respond.

“What if it only occurs when if it’s a life-threatening situation?”

“The answer is the same. It is likely that the Zanpakutō is only taking advantage of its own user’s frailty in order to gain control.” Takashi said.

Kishō furrowed his eyebrows on that statement. Should he tell Takashi? But, the Hōsōshi clansman did not trust the Shinigami either. Instead of responding, he walked back to the edge of the river, his feet finally meeting solid ground. From the corner of his eyes, Kishō did take a glance at Takashi, he wasn’t too sure what to do now.

Takashi, while undoubtedly curious as to the source of Kishō’s questions, did not probe deeper into the matter.

“We will depart for the south as soon as I secure some supplies from Akakusa. If everything runs according to plan, we should pass by your home region early this evening.” Takashi paused, then added, “That is, if you still wanted to visit your family there.”

Kishō glanced back at Takashi, “Should I join you?” As much as he didn’t want to be near Takashi, he couldn’t allow his superior to be out of sight due to his suspicion. But upon the mention of his family visit, he spoke curtly, “That would be acceptable.”

“You may join me if you wish,” Takashi replied easily, “In fact I might appreciate your help.”

Despite he said it out of courtesy, Kishō actually wanted to take a nap on the nearest tree, unluckily for him, his lieutenant wanted his assistance. “Lead the way, Sakuma-fukutaichō.”

Takashi groaned inwardly as they started back towards town.



They did not need to purchase much, just a few supplies for camping and food for the journey, and they had in fact just started back towards the dōjō when Rue met them on the street. She was carrying a bag full of cotton, and when she saw them smiled warmly.

“How did the training go?” she asked. Takashi shook his head, but Rue ignored him and pointedly looked towards Kishō.

Kishō briefly casted a glance at Takashi, before he paid attention to the woman in front of him. “... It went well. I discovered the natures of my Zanpakutō,” he emphasised subconsciously a singular word. And yet, there was something different to Kishō’s current behaviour. It seemed more lively, and he certainly wasn’t as vulnerable as before. Something obvious as he retaliated Takashi with snark remarks.

“And, I apologise, we have never been formally introduced.” He started and politely bowed his head, despite that he should be of a higher status. His voice calm, more gentle as before, “My name is Kishō Hōsōshi, and what may yours be, ojō-san?”

“It’s Rue…. just Rue.” she said, “It’s nice to meet you, I’m glad we were able to talk before you left.” She seemed somewhat distracted, however, and it was easy to see that she was looking at Takashi, not Kishō as she spoke.

“Sakuma-san, if… if you’re not in too much of a rush there’s something I would like to show you.” Rue shifted the bag across her shoulders slightly, and fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve. “It’s a new pattern I’ve designed,” she added distantly.

“Of course,” Takashi replied, a little too eagerly. “Rue-san owns her own weaver’s shop,” he said to Kishō, but then he hesitated. “Although, we… really should be on our way…” It was evident that the two were trying to isolate themselves from the other Shinigami, which only served to make the situation more awkward for all parties involved.

As Kishō raised his head, the expression of the lady concerned him. Her gaze wasn’t on him, not that it really bothered him, but it was fixated on his lieutenant. He glanced aside, trying to see any significant emotions that potentially were exposed by his superior, however, he found none. It was only their odd behaviour that casted suspicion on them. And yet, he didn’t want to think negatively about it, and thought of another solution,

Interesting… , an amused twinkle sparked in his eyes as his lips curved into a smile, “That’s fine. I will return to the dōjō, Hotake-san wanted to see me before we departed anyway.”

“Very well, I should be there in a moment.” Takashi said, already edging closer towards Rue.

“I wish you well, Hōsōshi-san,” she said as they parted ways. The couple stayed close together as they went further and further in the opposite direction down the street until Kishō could no longer be seen. Darting into an alleyway, they both sighed heavily after having held back their breaths for so long. The distance between them unconsciously grew once more.

“Do you suppose he was convinced?” Rue asked.

“I hope so,” Takashi replied seriously, then he moaned, “Was there any other solution you could have suggested? I will never live down the slight against my reputation.”

“A lieutenant of the Gotei 13 and a common Rukongai girl…” Rue grinned quietly to herself, “Scandalous.”

“Indeed.”

They checked the street once last time to be sure they had not been noticed by Kishō.

“Are all the men in place?” Takashi asked.

“Yes. It should be any minute now…”

“And you’re sure they’re reliable.”

“Have a little faith, Takashi. They’re students of your own master’s style.”

But still he felt uneasy, and his nerves had formed a tight knot in the pit of his stomach.

“I’ll be off then…” he started. Rue did not look at him as she said:

“I suppose you don’t know when you’ll be back. Please... at least try to visit in the same year.”

“I… can’t make you any promises.” he said.

“I know,” she said softly, “Just be careful.”

She seemed to have a second thought, and turned to say something more, but Takashi had already left, his spiritual presence only a faint trace as he slipped from notice.



Kishō walked in solitude through the busy streets of Akakusa. His mind was on different matters at once. He still couldn’t shake off the suspicion on the couple, yet, he only wished it was a delusion of his own, and that it truly was the young love he observed.

He couldn’t comprehend how it was possible for him, out of everyone, to easily lose his cool around Takashi. Perhaps it was because their initial clash after the death of Wakiya. Thinking about that… made the short man feel remorseful. As harsh as it sounded, Kishō knew that the woman mattered little to him, as it was more the effect that her death brought to him.

The memories of isolation and losses of friendship is what drove Kishō away from Seireitei in the first place. He didn’t understand why he choose to return. It might have been of his loyalty, or that he desired to repent the sins he is burdened with.

A familiar stand came in sight.

The man was right: his customers returned, even after they, the ‘hated dogs’, sat down in his stand and ate his food.

It caused him to stop walking.

Finally, he realised why he truly returned to the Gotei 13. It wasn’t only to escape the duties of his clan or his loyalty to both parties. No, Kishō wanted to move forward in all sorts of aspects that were associated with his life.

Caught up in his own thoughts, it was not clear whether or not he noticed the men who, travelling in a tight-knit group, had been following him as he wandered through the street. They carried heavy wooden bokuto with them, and from their style of dress and swaggering gait, it was clear that these were members of Akakusa’s local gang.

The noodle vendor from the previous day seemed to notice him, and he waved, his hand covered in soap suds. But as he noticed the rough-looking men behind Kishō his expression changed, first to confusion, and then to terse anxiety.

He acted as though he were about to say something, but before he got the chance one of the gangsters shouted, his rough voice ringing out clearly in the quiet, late-morning street:

“Hey, you there... Shinigami!” he spat to one side as the word left his mouth. “What’s one of your filth doin’ on our turf… huh?”

Kishō wasn’t particularly fazed by the taunts. He casually took a sidestep to look easier behind him. His eyes took in the group, they were indeed rough-looking man who failed to impress him. He just clicked his tongue in annoyance, after all, they interrupted his thoughts about more important matters. His voice sounded rather similar as his current mood, annoyed,

“That is none of your business, peasants.”

The leader barked a laugh, “So the runt has some spunk huh?” Those who had been grouped around him had already begun to spread out, tapping their wooden swords anxiously as they moved to carefully surround Kishō from all sides.

“Here, let me be a little more clear.” he said as he sauntered closer. “We happen to be members of the illustrious Swallow Tails: and this little district happens to be our territory. In other words…” he waved his hand in the air dramatically, “This IS our business, see?” The man stopped, shifting his stance and throwing back his sword-arm in a threatening gesture. “So, let me ask you this… Shinigami-sama, are ya here to cause trouble? Or are you going to pay our fare and move on your way all quiet-like?”

His pair of different eyes wandered around, observing that the other members began to close in on him. And yet, Kishō returned to fixate his gaze on the apparent leader. His lips, once again, cultivated into a smile, “I care little about Akakusa,” his tone slightly intrigued with amusement. “But I advise you to move quietly along.”

“Is that a threat?” the man asked with a smirk, “If so then the challenge… is accepted.”

The man drew his sword and crouched low, as if bowing to his honorable opponent, but the next instant and he had slid forwards across the ground with such speed and raw aggression that he seemed to close the gap between them in a blink of an eye. He swung his blade at a horizontal angle towards Kishō’s abdomen, while at the same time two of the other gangsters sprang from behind and brought their own bokuto down towards his shoulders.

Kishō’s smile never faltered, it was quite taunting. He likely underestimated the peasants that surrounded him, something that eventually would bite him back, perhaps even now. A blink was enough to be surprised to meet the eyes of their leader upfront. It didn’t matter as Kishō didn’t move from his position, instead welcomed him closer, before pulled the sheathed wakizashi from his obi to block the incoming attack. Hearing similar sounds from behind, Kishō tactically moved his left leg sidewards to kick nick them at knee range. However, it was a distraction as he used shunpō to blink away from the three attackers, which, likely, had to stop their actions to avoid striking each other.

The sheathed wakizashi rested in his right hand. His eyes sternly observing the men in front of him, before he raised his point- and middle-finger at them, “Bakudō 1,” he began, despite that Kishō could’ve easily performed the spell without warning, “Sai.”

The spell was blocked by one of the gang members, who threw herself in front of Kishou in order to take the brunt of the attack. She was instantly immobilized and dropped behind, but her position was filled by two other attackers who had run up from the sides. They swung their bakuto in unison: one towards his chest and the other at the level of his hamstrings, intending to knock him off-balance. And if Kishō had been looking to his left, he would have seen a man with a thin hemp cord coiled around his wrist, and the other with a bamboo hook with which they were intending to snag the Shinigami with and pin him to the ground.

“It seems I underestimated you lot a little,” Kishō spoke firmly, complementing the gangsters on their coordinated attacks against him. His taunting smile changed all so slightly, as they stirred the “demon” within him. The moment the girl had been caught in his trap, the Shinigami had already shifted his wakizashi to his left hand, while his right rested on the guard of the katana. He slightly pulled it from its sheath, the edge of the pure black blade became visible.

The thick mist-like Reiatsu poured out in the surrounding. It dissipated within seconds, as if Kishō had failed to call out the abilities of his Zanpakutō. In reality, those that could discern and read the spiritual residue would know that it belonged to the wielder of the blade.

Instantly, Kishō’s teasing smile had been replaced with a frightening grin. The innocent and calm demeanor had taken to a bloodthirsty aura. It became evident that something had been triggered, his Reiatsu flared up as the crimsoness embraced his being, and come into a devilish being around him. And his heterochromatic eyes glimmered dangerously with a murderous intent. Kishō finally spoke, his tone still sounding quite sincere,

“You asked for this, foolish peasants.”

He didn’t even lift a finger as two blue orbs appeared to repulse the two incoming attacks away from him.

“What the… Release your Reiatsu now!” someone shouted amidst the chaos. It was the leader who, from a short distance away had been able to sense the sudden and strange shift in spiritual pressure. While he might not have been exactly aware of what was going on, he knew that a Shinigami’s chief weapon outside of their Zanpakutou was their own spiritual energy, and it was not something to be underestimated. The men who surrounded the Shinigami seemed to hear him in time, and they shouted out to add force to their Reiatsu as they released it. Even if Kishō had been a Shinigami, it seemed they were able to match his output through their sheer numbers and drown out whatever effect his spiritual pressure: or in this case, Kidō spell, had had on the area. The blue orbs disappeared, and now with their target in clear sight the man holding the rope allowed it to snake through the air, hoping to land it above Kishō’s head. At the same time the bamboo hook wielder lunged forwards, attempting to push him against the wall of four bokuto waiting for him on the other side of the street.

This time, Kishō was visibly shocked that his art was this easily broken. He had relied on kidō far too often, it was currently his only strength in combat. But this, this shattered his last remaining willpower, the strength from before faded away, and his mind disorientated completely. It was evident that the Shinigami became an easier target to captivate now that his combat skills became redundant.

Instinct.

Despite it wasn’t his purpose, the remainder of Reiatsu coursed through the wakizashi that he lifted up to cut the rope. However, the bamboo hook wielder successfully pushed Kishō back into the wall of four bokuto wielders. His eyes were lifeless, there was not a particular spirit left in them, yet, his strength increased as he pushed the hook wielder back. And a raw voice repelled, what one would initially believe came from Kishō, aggressively to the opponent,

“I won’t let you!”

Kishō backed away a step, quickly lifting his leg to swing it kick the opponent at their side. His free hand drew out the wakizashi, which, under normal circumstances, the Shinigami would never do.

After all, it wasn’t the Shinigami anymore.



Lying flat on his stomach on a rooftop from across the street, Takashi observed the scene play out below him. He was using a technique he had learned during his time in the second division in order to draw in and subdue his own Reiatsu, and he hoped he had escaped Kishō’s notice. He watched the other Shinigami closely for any indication that he was about to turn violent, and was prepared at any moment to spring down and interfere if it seemed as though Kishō would go in for the kill.

In hindsight the idea had been a terrible one. If Kishō was as truly skilled as Takashi believed he could be, then one, simple flick of the wrist was all it would take to end a life then and there. But Rue had assured him that the ten Hotake students, now dressed Swallow Tail garb, were reliable, and that they could hold their own against even a lieutenant. From what Takashi had seen so far, he now knew that assertion to be true. Not to mention that, but the members of the impromptu task squad had volunteered, and had willingly chosen to risk their lives. The reason why escaped him, but he was grateful nonetheless.

It was at that moment that Takashi noticed the alien strand of Reiatsu, and he saw Kishō’s movements change, suddenly becoming more brutal and powerful than they had been before.

This is it. He told Kohaku gravely.

The instant he saw the wakizashi flash in the air his heart skipped a beat. It was the same as it had been that time, when he had watched Kishō strike at another victim… and it terrified him to think that the same thing was happening right before his eyes.

But this time he was ready.

Without a moment’s hesitation he had flown from the roof, appearing in front of Kishō to stop his swing midway, catching him by the wrist.

“What are you doing?” he asked, even though he already knew the answer. “Hōsōshi, these are civilians!”

Immediately, the cold and lifeless eyes snapped to Takashi’s. And, as if it recognised him, the cold voice murmured, “Sakuma… Takashi.” His grin should’ve betrayed his actions, as the unrestrained hand reached for the katana, quickly drawing it and slash at the mentioned person. Caught off-guard, Takashi stumbled back but was unable to react in time. A line of red sliced across his chest and he grit his teeth with the all too familiar pain.

“Hōsōshi…” he growled as he prepared to draw his own Zanpakutō.

“He ain’t here,” was the response to Takashi. It cackled, enjoying the agony of its wielder’s superior.

Takashi frowned in confusion and pressed a hand to his chest to try and stem the bleeding.

“What?” he asked, utterly confused.

That… that is not Kishō. Kohaku noted. ''The Reiatsu is different. There is something entirely off about him.''

I can see that, Takashi retorted sharply. Quickly, you need to get out of here.

She did not argue with him this time, instead taking to the sky with one powerful snap of her wings. She knew that to remain close to Takashi would only impair his ability to concentrate, and she could better aid him by observing the situation from above. The hawk circled around the two combatants, almost lazily, as the entire street went still.

“Who are you?” he addressed whatever had been Kishō a moment before.

Who appeared as Kishō pointed the katana at Takashi’s chest. “Ya know it,” it sounded different than the other one, who had a much colder tone; this one was rather childish. “You hurt my Shō-nii,” it continued, unable to keep it a secret. Silence occurred for a moment, “but thanks to you… we are reunited!”

“What the hell?” Takashi stepped back to find his footing, grimacing with the movement, and slowly, cautiously, drew his Zanpaktuō. “Hōsōshi... snap out of it!” he shouted.

In response, he shook his head. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Takashi Sakuma!” The katana gushed a particular glow, it giggled, “You see, unlike that savage and Shō-nii, I have no restrictions!” Kishō’s smirk broadened, “and I doubt you want your petty peasants to die, right?”

Takashi smiled, although it was strained, and he took his sword in both hands. “That is correct.” he said, “Thank you for reminding me.” He rushed forwards, but instead of using the blade to strike he turned the katana so that it was the hilt hammering towards Kishō. He aimed for the forehead, struck quickly, and hoped to incapacitate Kishō before the fight could progress any further.

Kishō’s katana stopped glowing.

Instead, the wakizashi intercepted the attack as its blade countered Takashi’s katana, the flat of its blade blocking the pommel of the hilt. Along with that, there was a murderous intent in these actions, unlike the former that threatened the lieutenant. While the Hakuda of Kishō was far from being average, the strength he displayed seemed not to matter right now, as he pressured Takashi back with the wakizashi. In the meantime, Kishō aimed at the abdomen to slash Takashi again with the katana, however, it would be an instant swap with the other soul that resided within it. That meant that a hit from the katana would be devastating.

Takashi recognized the severity of his situation and, in an instant had pressed left hand against the spine of his sword to strengthen it against the incoming attack. This meant allowing the wakizashi to slide free, and as the two katana bit into each other, Takashi realized that he would have to quickly extricate himself or suffer grave results. He shifted his balance and shoved the flat of his foot into Kishō’s stomach, throwing himself back at the same time in order to avoid the daishō. It was troublesome to handle two blades simultaneously, he noted, and knew that all his skill as a swordsman would be put to the test.

Well then. he thought. Perhaps Zanjutsu wasn’t the only answer.

“Bakudō number four,” he commanded, “Hainawa!” A stream of yellow energy shot towards Kishō in order to wrap around his limbs and restrain him, and Takashi prepared himself for however the other Shinigami might react. His attention was distracted by movement that he caught from the corner of his eye, as someone sprinted to avoid being caught in the radius of his Kidō.

“Everyone, clear the area!” he shouted at the ‘gang members’ and passerby still present in the area. They did not need to be told twice, and quickly rushed to be free of the fight’s wake.

A sly smirk left the red-haired Shinigami. Intensifying once Takashi kicked him away.

The katana dropped with a clattering noise on the ground by the impact of the kick. On the other hand, Kishō retained a tight grip on the wakizashi, which, during the movement had been raised to his side as the edge of the blade was in a horizontal direction. He landed on the balls of his feets, sank through his knees as he prepared his next action. Kishō didn’t had much time considering a stream of yellow energy rapidly came towards him.

His expression changed immediately, shock clearly visibly on his face.

But a second before the energy could touch him, a victorious grin reappeared, right before Kishō disappeared in a flash. In the meanwhile, he had switched hands with the wakizashi, as he crossed it to slash Takashi in his lower abdomen, before he teleported a few metres from the lieutenant again.

Takashi caught the subtle misdirection and stepped back, feeling the metal whistle past him as it brushed the front of his Shihakushō. He could sense Kohaku pressuring him to release his Shikai, but he pushed her back.

Not yet.

As his sword-arm followed his backwards momentum he quickly reversed the blade so that he could strike with the spine, as opposed to the cutting-edge. He struck expertly, aiming to contact Kishō’s neck and drop him to the ground, and at the same time carried through the attack with Shunpo, adding speed and a certain ferocity to the attack.

Kishō made a sound of disdain as Takashi avoided his attack. He stopped his movement, a wrong decision in combat, not much further from Takashi in order to glance at him. Surely, his back was still facing the lieutenant, but he had readied his wakizashi to strike at the foe the moment they would counter-attack him.

Over-confidence was one aspect of the controlled Shinigami. His actions thus far were a dread mistake. He didn’t understand the consequences that would follow for the owner of the body, as well as that the Shinigami appeared as a reckless fighter.

The wielder of the wakizashi witnessed the incoming attack of Takashi a fragment too late to counter it. However, as he slightly ducked his head to embrace himself for the impact, a blue orb materialised in front of the back of his neck. Listening to the voice deep within, it spoke out,

“Seki,” Kishō whispered, loud enough for the lieutenant to hear.

There was a flash of blue, and the orb of energy contacted with the incoming blade and deflected it. Takashi felt himself thrown forwards with the force of the shockwave and, while he might have otherwise been able to regain his balance, soon realized that he had run out of room. An all too-familiar noodle stand was standing directly in his path, and he crashed into it, feeling his feet fly from under him.

“Damn it.” he spat as he scrambled to his feet, and coughed, realizing too late that he had twisted the wrong way and caused his wound to open further.

For an instant he considered drawing his own blood across the length of his blade to enhance his Shikai. But then he discarded the idea. Despite the dire situation, he still refused to injure a fellow Shinigami.

But then, before he could take a single step, Kishō was there. His eyes were wide and crazed, and Takashi barely caught the murderous glint and shadow of sadistic ecstasy as the wakizashi plunged towards him. His moment of hesitation had cost him… dearly. Takashi moved his blade to respond, but was too late. An instant later he felt cold steel bite into his side, and he saw as the sword was driven in all the way to the hilt.

How strange… he thought distantly, the sudden pain threatening to strip away his ability to think clearly. With sheer force of will he forced himself out of the haze and back into the present. He gripped the wakizashi and pulled it close to himself, refusing to let go.

Time seemed to slow. Takashi knew his opponent, having been fully committed to the attack, was wide open before him. He may have registered the fact consciously, but before the thought had even fully formed his hand had moved on its own, reacting from pure instinct.

The katana arced up through the air in retaliation, hungering to claw into Kishō’s throat.

He stubbornly refused to let go of his wakizashi, resulting Kishō to drive more strength into his initial attack, despite that Takashi held onto the blade. His aggression blinded him from considering other actions that could have caused more disastrous outcomes for the lieutenant.

It barely missed Kishō’s throat. Instead, the katana plunged thoroughly through his shoulder. As a reaction, the shorter Shinigami let out a strangled cry, his grip on the wakizashi loosening.

Suddenly, the murderous intention left the eyes of the Hōsōshi. The life in them returned as the colours shone vibrantly once more. And yet, Kishō’s strength faded away as he succumbed to fall on his knees, watching the lieutenant with utter shock,

“Sa...kuma-san?”

At first it seemed as though Takashi had not heard him. He pushed himself away from Kishō violently and readjusted the grip on his Zanpakutō. His gaze was locked onto Kishō as though he were a target… like he was preparing to eliminate a Hollow, and his eyes had the furious crimson tint of a wounded predator. But then he seemed to become aware of himself and his expression changed, pained in more ways than one.

“Hōsōshi…” he was panting heavily, “What the hell… was that?” He acted as though he would say something more, but without warning his face drained of all color and he lurched to the side and collapsed, still clutching the guilty weapon in his side.

A simple movement made Kishō hiss audibly in pain, it was the deep shoulder wound that would bleed constantly, eventually leading to a point that the Shinigami became numb of feeling the blood trickling down his skin. His vibrant eyes settled on Takashi's unconscious body, confusion clear within those orbs, and clouded with all-sorts of negative emotions. He leaned closer to the lieutenant, ignoring the burning sensation as he pressed his fingers against Takashi's neck. Kishō wanted to make sure that his superior was still "alive".

There was much more that Kishō did not understand. So much more that he wanted to ask the lieutenant, but… the moment his eyes laid on the wakizashi, a deep burning hatred began to boil within him. Immediately he leaned forward, his own pain intensifying, as Kishō curled his fingers around the hilt of the blade: he wanted to pull the evildoer away from his lieutenant.

A hand wrapped around his that held the wakizashi.

“Kishō-dono,” a much lower voice resonated in his ears, “I would advise against that.”

The Hōsōshi heir reluctantly released the wakizashi, obeying to the masked man. “Noritaka?” He murmured, the sadness in his voice clear.

“Aye.” His reply was short. After all, Noritaka, being one of the few from the Main House to have actually followed Kishō, could smell the distinctive blood of his lord. “Ya both seem to be in a bad shape, stupid.”

“I’m fine,” Kishō furily spat back.

In response the other Hōsōshi chuckled, “Of course.” However, he narrowed on Takashi, who was in a much worse shape than Kishō. “I need ya to use Bakudō on yar dear Shinigami friend, leave Kaidō up to me. After that, I’mma bring ya both to the healers.” Having said that, Noritaka hovered a hand in front of the wound, as a green glow expanded over it that focused on stopping the bleeding. He intended to heal Takashi enough to seal the bleeding temporarily, long enough to return him to the Hōsōshi compound. “Go for it, Shō.”

Using his unhurt arm, Kishō drew the symbols with his Reiatsu in the air. It was one of the Kidō spells of the Hōsōshi clan that allowed the heir to create a small yet strong barrier to stabilise the wakizashi’s position. Furthermore, the barrier curved around the open wound that kept it sterilised and made sure that the wound would not bleed any further.

“I should patch ya up too,” Noritaka hummed at Kishō after the initial measures were taken. However, he received a weak glare from the heir that told him enough. “I’ll just get that other weapon of yars, before I’ll take ya both outta here.”