milliways_bar | (no subject)

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The boy is outside again, out back beyond the lake. He likes to be well away from the main bar when he trains, so that none will notice him swinging his sword, positively glowing with energy. A light blue aura surround him as he leaps and swings, his body covered in sweat as he goes over exercises and desperately wills himself to achieve that which he desires.

Day after day he's been out here, training as best he can by himself, all for Bankai. All so he can be strong again, strong enough to protect those he cares for. It sounds corny, he knows, but it's true. That's the only reason he fights. Not for more power and not for a love of fighting, but so that he can be strong enough to do as he has always wanted. Protect people.

So again today he came out, made his way out across the grass until he was almost out of sight, rocks and trees and the like hiding him well enough. He's not totally hidden, and his entire body is glowing brightly, but he doubts anybody will bother him anyways.

...or not.

[ooc: Plot-locked, so sorry.]

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He's anxious now, the feeling of his inner Hollow pressing in on him growing stronger. He wants to end the battle quickly, by any means necessary. He lets loose, despite his better judgement, another getsuga tenshō. The blast is strong enough to cleave two of the Menos in half, but he drops to the ground quickly, one hand clutching his head.

'Shit shit shit! Stupid of me, fucking hell...shouldn't have done that, getting sloppy...'

He gets to his feet, gripping his sword tighter, and starts to move to the right...

Except he doesn't. He can't.

Before he can ponder why his body won't listen, it hits him. The pressure he was feeling is multiplied tenfold, his head ready to explode. There's laughter then, a terrible laughter he hoped never to hear again, and as he grips his head and wishes silently for the bastard to just GO AWAY, he knows this is bad. He can't move a muscle, can't bring up his sword, can't run away. Nothing. As his reiatsu fluctuates and his aura varies from Shinigami to Hollow back and forth, the Menos take notice.

Two Cero blasts. Their eyes on him, his eyes staring straight back as he silently urges himself to move, they let loose two attacks, and he's left defenseless, unable to even bring up his hands to defend himself.

The explosion is not pretty, and smoke and dust billow up, hiding whatever charred remains there might be of him. ~~Or not.~~

Okay, this stopped being even mildly entertaining a long time ago, but now it's really not fun.

Steph doesn't scream, because that would draw their attention. She does, however, use the tree to drag herself up onto wobbly feet, scanning the dustcloud urgently. She's seen him move, that didn't get him, no way ...

Okay. She can walk. Still feels like gravity's twice as strong as normal, but she can walk. She bends down to scoop up several more rocks, tucking them in various pockets, and takes a few steps out into the open.

"Oi! Oi, you big freaky things! Over here!"

...yeah, the bit about not drawing their attention, maybe oops. But at least she can give Ichigo a few moments to get his stuff together. Because he's not hurt. Because he can't be.

She hefts a sharp-edged rock, testing its weight and balance, and waits.

They're not turning. All eyes on the dust. And it quickly becomes apparent why when a sharp, high-pitched cackle emerges from the smoke.

This is followed by about a dozen getsuga tenshō blasts, shredding the Menos to ribbons before they can think to dodge or move or...blink. One would have been enough, but by the time the blasts stop, they're not just dead. They've been absolutely destroyed. And as smoke clears and dust settles, something white as porcelain can be seen.

And then two eyes.

And then he's visible, head to toe, a smirk on his face as he rests his black katana on his shoulder.

"Oi, girl! Long time no see, huh?"

Steph's eyes go very wide, for a second, and then narrow.

He - lied. He LIED.

She stays there, poised to fight, back straight and feet planted firmly. (This is so she doesn't fall over.)

"Been a while, yeah," she says, icily. "Took a vacation, did you?"

The narration will give up attempting to convey the force of Steph's anger with mere words. It'd take a long time and involve descriptions of fiery volcanic flow and detonating explosives and so on, and probably be boring. Suffice it to say: Steph is Very, Very Angry.

You can tell by just how polite her smile is.

~~Sounds like lazy narration if you ask me...~~

"Oh, somethin' like that." He twirls his sword playfully, tosses it from one hand to the other as if to pass the time. "Been busy yourself? Hope you're happy to see me, huh? Or..."

He pauses, meeting her gaze with an absolutely wicked smile.

"...maybe you're too busy hating Ichigo's guts right now?"

The longer it stands there, the more strength she's getting back; so she's perfectly happy to banter with it for a while.

"You could say that," she says, with the same small, polite smile.

If looks could kill, Hollow. If looks could kill.

"Then I guess I can feel pretty good 'bout myself." He plants his sword in the ground suddenly, and it reverts back to its normal form. "I like you, Steph, as much as I can like anybody. You've got a lot of room to hate, and you're going to be a lot of help to me. You're going to be the one to deliver me Ichigo's body and mind on a silver platter. But before then, I'm gonna stretch a bit and try to get the hang of being in this body again."

He moves forwards, walking slowly, hands at his side.

"Just like riding a bike."

Keep walking, you sick bastard. Keep walking right away from that sword.

She steps back, as if she's scared of him. Surprisingly, perhaps, she isn't; the threats it had made scared her, dragged up memories she'd thought best forgotten and left her unable to sleep. But facing the reality - she bounces on the balls of her feet, shrugs her shoulders to loosen up, twists her neck to get the kinks out - yeah, it's just like any other fight, and the Hollow's just another skell to get off the streets. Something threatens her home, her family, her loved ones, her body - that thing goes down.

"I am, am I?" she asks, light and sweet, still moving backwards in an attempt to draw it away from the sword. "How's that, exactly?"

"You've already taken the first step." He explains (or...not really) before letting loose a flash step, leaving only a few feet of distance between them. He moves forwards, still going at a normal speed, and makes use of Ichigo's martial arts skills. A kick is aimed high, and he's smiling.

This is gonna be fun!

"Explain."

She ducks, whirling and sweeping her leg out in a low heel-kick; if she's quick enough, she can knock him off-balance before he gets his other foot down on the ground.

Steph? Not smiling any more.

Him? BIG smile.

He lets himself fall backwards as soon as she dodges his kick, catching himself with one hand and flipping back onto his feet again. Three quick steps has them face to face again, and he aims three quick blows at her gut.

All the while, he speaks. "Ichigo values friends. And now you hate him. I think we're making good progress, don't you?" Simple, but not clear.

She blocks, but he's strong and she's still not a hundred percent. And that's Ichigo's fault too; yeah, she's not real impressed with Ichigo right now.

The first two she manages; the third one hits her full in the stomach, and she grunts and falls back a couple of paces, fighting to keep her breath. No more talking now, she's just circling, watching his movements closely, feinting once or twice, and then darting in for a combination of kicks and an attempted rock to the mask. Gotta kill the mask.

She's not going to answer it. It's just taunting. And fuck, it's faster than it was before, surely.

He blocks a kick, but lets most hit him, concentrating on keeping the mask protected. Knocking the rock aside, he counter-attacks, knowing she still isn't recovered. A low kick, followed by a roundhouse one, just to see if she's got the right stuff.

After all, he's having fun.

She leaps the low kick, but fumbles the landing; unresponsive ankles just aren't doing the trick today. This means she effectively dodges the roundhouse, but it leaves her sprawled on the ground, although she's scrambling to get up again almost instantly, swearing under her breath.

He quickly ponders choking her, but decides he's not in the mood for it. He didn't leave the sword behind just to break her neck. So he does the next best thing and darts forwards, aiming a punch at her chest. And he's not going to hold back.

Not holding back is good. It means she can roll back on her spine, draw her legs up and plant them on his chest, and then roll further - sending him flying over her head and into the trees.

Ideally, anyway. That's how it's meant to go.

That's pretty much how it works. He's strong, not perfect. And she's probably had more practice at this hand-to-hand thing. Ichigo may train in a Dojo, but it's not the same as being out in the streets beating up criminals and the like. So he goes flying, caught off guard and surprised, and hits a tree hard enough to crack it.

Give him a second to get up...

Nope - she's not giving him a moment. She follows the roll through and flips back to her feet, giving chase.

Hopefully the tree's stunned him, or dazed him, or hurt him enough to make the next manouevre at least slightly less suicidal: she leaps for his back, with the intent of slamming her last rock into the mask repeatedly at point-blank range. Sitting on his shoulders is the plan.

His powers are limited by the body, so it takes him a second or two too long to get up, and ends up with a Steph on his back.

There is a vague mumble of "Bitch!" into the dirt as he starts to rise again, but it might be something else.

He can call her a bitch all she likes. She shoves his head at the ground again, and then jumps off him, attempting to roll him over so she can get a good smack with the rock.

He reaches out, trying to grab her leg or something, anything to keep her from getting away. He has to be close enough to hurt her to actually...well, hurt her.

And he's starting to get bored.

The unexpected grip on her leg makes what had been supposed to be a gracefull roll into more of a thump. Flat on her back, she kicks at him desperately with her other leg; the touch of his hand gives her the creeps something fierce.

"Just die already, you sick fuck!"

He doesn't respond, but now he's got a good grip on her. Now he can begin to have fun again!

He ignores the kicks, most of them striking hard enough to hurt but not enough to be too serious. He doesn't let go, but instead tightens his grip, tighter and tighter...

...and then there's a violent motion with his arm, inhuman strength backing it up, and the sound of bone breaking.

She screams, high and sharp, and then bites it off with an effort. Ouch. Fuck. Ouch. He just snapped me like a wet towel - fucker!

Still on her back, she grabs for something - anything - and comes up with a handful of dirt. Okay, handful of dirt is go; it gets flung at his face, and she kicks at his hand again, but the second was a mistake. Kicking at something connected to a seriously snapped bone, not so smart. Everything goes white with pain for a moment.

Dirt in his eyes is not appreciated, and he lets go of her leg to try and clear his vision. He stumbles back a few steps, clearing dirt from his face and eyes quickly.

It was worth it though. She's hurt, bad, and now she'll have a hard time stopping him.