Trudging through the desolate quarry, a lone figure grimaced beneath the blinding spotlights surrounding the pit. Stooping low, Masato Fujikawa ran a gloved hand along the dusty substrate at his feet, grabbing a fistful of the pale limestone and letting it fall between his fingers.
This place was nothing but a wound; a grim reminder of the responsibilities they carried, and what happened if they failed. The organizers of the Shinigami's Grand Tournament of course, saw things differently, believing the battle that took place here was a show of cooperation and camaraderie between Earth and Soul Society.
Masato could only see the scars.
Rising to his feet, the gunslinger reached into his pocket, retrieving a small vial of sanguine fluid. He didn't know what it contained, but the Shinigami had insisted it would heal his wounds in time for his next bout. Popping the cork off with his thumb, the agent took a whiff of the pungent liquid.
"Blood," he mused, sloshing it around in the decanter. "It smells like blood."
Throwing caution to the wind, the agent tossed the concoction back, cringing as it went down with a burn that would rival alcohol of the highest proof. Dropping the vial, the gunslinger grunted with discomfort as the healing brew went to work mending his wounds.
Sighing deeply as the sensation passed, thankful to be able to breathe freely once more, Masato turned his gaze to the edge of the quarry, where a familiar presence tugged at the edges of his perception.
"Nostalgic, isn't it?"
Masato Fujikawa - Initiative Orpheus, General
Reiatsu: 24,390
Sanzoku ~ 26,829
Sanzoku - Rikugun no Ichi ~31,707
Resonance - 0/12,195
Combat: 13,286
Agility: 8,000
Fortitude: 3,086
Items:
[Veritas] (Wraith SB2K)
-Pyre Rounds
[Aequitas](Epitaphe SAA)
-Lawbringer Rounds
[Concussion Lance]
[Multi-purpose Flare] x2
[Zanpakutou Core Rounds] x3
Rolled Encumbrance and Addle. Paid -200 Tourney points for a potion.
This place was nothing but a wound; a grim reminder of the responsibilities they carried, and what happened if they failed. The organizers of the Shinigami's Grand Tournament of course, saw things differently, believing the battle that took place here was a show of cooperation and camaraderie between Earth and Soul Society.
Masato could only see the scars.
Rising to his feet, the gunslinger reached into his pocket, retrieving a small vial of sanguine fluid. He didn't know what it contained, but the Shinigami had insisted it would heal his wounds in time for his next bout. Popping the cork off with his thumb, the agent took a whiff of the pungent liquid.
"Blood," he mused, sloshing it around in the decanter. "It smells like blood."
Throwing caution to the wind, the agent tossed the concoction back, cringing as it went down with a burn that would rival alcohol of the highest proof. Dropping the vial, the gunslinger grunted with discomfort as the healing brew went to work mending his wounds.
Sighing deeply as the sensation passed, thankful to be able to breathe freely once more, Masato turned his gaze to the edge of the quarry, where a familiar presence tugged at the edges of his perception.
"Nostalgic, isn't it?"
Stats and stuff
Masato Fujikawa - Initiative Orpheus, General
Reiatsu: 24,390
Sanzoku ~ 26,829
Sanzoku - Rikugun no Ichi ~31,707
Resonance - 0/12,195
Combat: 13,286
Agility: 8,000
Fortitude: 3,086
Items:
[Veritas] (Wraith SB2K)
-Pyre Rounds
[Aequitas](Epitaphe SAA)
-Lawbringer Rounds
[Concussion Lance]
[Multi-purpose Flare] x2
[Zanpakutou Core Rounds] x3
Rolled Encumbrance and Addle. Paid -200 Tourney points for a potion.
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