Triangles

3: Fight and/or Flight

            “Oh, come on. Where’s Nnoitora? He said to come out for training,” I groaned before plopping onto the grey sand with a heavy sigh. “We’ve been waiting her for ten whole minutes. Not for nothing, but he yells at us whenever we’re late.”

            “Patience, Ayame. He will eventually arrive. I find it odd that you doubt our master. You should know that…”

            “GET BACK HERE, YOU ABHORENT BITCH!”

            “Ack, ‘at was my leg! AYAME, ‘ELP ME!”

            Any normal friend’s reaction would be to jump up to their feet and help their friend in a second’s notice. To defend them and aid them. However…

            I decided to let this one go; let it roll off my shoulders. After all, She was the one who insisted on dying Nnoitora’s clothing neon pink. I mean, of course I was the one who dyed them and Szayel was the one who supplied the dye, but none of that really mattered. The screams of agony from afar were proof enough that she was getting what she was asking for.

            “I, for one, can not find myself in a position to be sympathetic toward her,” Tesla smirked faintly.

            “I couldn’t agree more, Tesla.” I smirked, as well, widely and genuinely as I listened to Kita try to resist Nnoitora’s strength and anger.

            “AYAME!”

            “Nope!” I yelled back, waving my hand in wide arc jokingly. “So, Tesla…? Wanna spar while we wait?”

            “Of course.” His uncovered eye locked on to me. We both sat there for a moment, giving one another the time to prepare, before our hands met the hilts of our Zanpakuto. We both leapt towards one another, drawing our blades, letting them clash and spark, listening to the cry their shrill screech of intense pressure. We both proceeded to jump back and give one another some room for a few moments. “All ready, then?” He arched a brow.

            “You’d better bet on it. Let’s go!” I growled out, surging forward with all my might as our blades met once again, the two steel items already well acquainted with one another. They repeated their agony-filled yelps, the sparks jumping from the steel and dancing around us.

~~

-Manami’s P.O.V.

            “…You want to train? Like… spar?” I raised an eyebrow at Szayel, confused. “But, sir, you have to understand that I…”

            “Have you forgotten so soon, Manami?” He smirked at me, staring at my hand. I sighed, but understood and nodded.

            “No, sir. Of course I haven’t. It’s just… It has been quite a long while, sir. That’s all.”

            “Now normally,” he started in his deep voice that I had come to know so well, “I would have you spar with one of my experiments. But today, we’re going to switch things up a bit.”

            …He wanted me to spar with him. Which was… odd, to put it in simple terms. Normally, he was too busy to do things like spar. With mere Fracción, at least. But for some reason unbeknownst to me, he was free for a while, and that in itself was rare enough. But the fact that he’d spend the time training me…

            I supposed it was about time. My claw hadn’t seen battle in a long while. Szayel had grafted it on to my hand shortly after I was born as an Arrancar. It was my equivalent to any other Arrancar’s Zanpakuto. It also consisted of parts of my mask fragment. I was a bird- a hawk- keen and sharp in my ways, my claw the great hawk’s talon.