𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐄 | 𝐁𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 [MINOR EDITING]

³⁰ ᴅᴇᴀᴅ ᴍᴇᴀᴛ

My hands grow heavy, a sudden weight added to them. It's not an uncomfortable weight—it's soothing. Familiar, like holding hands with a loved one. With a parent. With my mother. I can sense her; I can feel the remainder of her presence dancing in the palms of my hands. She calls to me, begging me to end this fight. And end it, I will.

Like the first time I'd held them, a thick black smoke obscures my view of my Shikai. I can visualize their appearance, my fingers gliding along and across the bandaged hilts. Suddenly, I find myself feeling empowered by their presence. I no longer have a reason to fear the outcome of this battle. I know exactly how things will end, and it will do so in my favour.

The first one appears through the splintered door of a shack. Whatever family inhabited it prior to this afternoon is safe from harm, temporarily relocated to one of the inner districts. He wields a jagged-edged dagger in his left hand, his yellow teeth barred at me, and my feet move before I give them the order to. I buzz, my muscles on fire from the amount of adrenaline that currently runs through me. The four steps this man from Zaraki takes toward me is equivalent to the single step I take, my blade pointed at the ground, to thrust the bottom of my hilt up against his chin. He lets out a sharp grunt, flying a good three feet into the air, and then a good ten feet backwards down the dirt road. He lands, and doesn't stand again, unconscious.

I take a step back, and turn on the spot, a challenge to the men of Kusajishi and Zaraki, my hands wound tightly around the bandaged grips. Someone yells, and they all charge out of the shadows at once, converging on my position. The adrenaline shooting through my veins thickens, and unable to wait for them to reach me, I lunge forward, blade pointed in their direction.

"You're dead, Kaoku!"

"Dead meat!"

My first swing slices through the first five men, at different heights. They stumble backward, clutching their wounds—which clearly cut a lot deeper than I'd both expected or intended. But then I realize that these men won't just give up and lay down their weapons if I simply... injure them. As far as I'm concerned, the battle won't end unless their numbers are brought down—to zero.

My next strike lands a good foot higher, a deep slice appearing in the next men's throats, dark red blood following immediately after. Mid-collapse, I jump over them, and use their falling bodies as a springboard to my assault. I hear them hit the floor; still hanging a good fifteen feet in the air, I manipulate my spiritual energy to create a platform beneath me, and watch them all clamber over each other, in a grand attempt to kill me.