Wayne
The Rustler of Jimmies
The tension in the air was almost suffocating. Two forces, both distinct and similar in their own respects, at last clashed in a confrontation long overdue. The fire that brewed between Kyuketsu and Ryoujin stemmed not out of hatred, however, but out of a sense of desire and closure. Their duel was meant not only to further advance their mission, but most of all to cement once and for all an invisible war that raged between the two friends. It was the final output of their burrowed emotions—a rampant exodus that would at last give rest to the tired argument that lashed amongst them. They not only wanted it... they needed it.
From the disapprovals and rebukes brought out by their allies, it was clear that their reasoning alone failed to understand the most vital essence which surrounded the battle. Kyuketsu and Ryoujin were both able to make the tough decisions in the face of great adversity when no one else could do it. Raifuku’s final message was clear—it was fight or die. The other soul reapers, all of whom had but one symbol at their arsenal, would all ‘perish’ in that room because of their own inactions. They were far too drowned in the black-and-white dogmas of honor and camaraderie that they failed to realize what was needed of them at the time. Because they refused to play the twisted game set up by the puppeteer, they were inadvertently choosing to fail their duties.
As Ryoujin’s blade inched closer to Kyuketsu’s flesh with blinding speeds, a spark of life resonated from the opposite’s cutter. The silver gleam of the Acting Captain’s zanpakutou flourished before the speedster, dancing with a celestial grace divergent from their treacherous warzone of steep canyons and rallying thunders. A resounding boom shattered the hearing as both warrior’s steels slammed against one another, unleashing a grand shockwave that shook the very earth on which they both stood. A grin crept itself over Kyuketsu’s countenance as he locked sights with his adversary. Without another word, he spun, twisting his weapon into a whirlwind-like move which dared to ravage and crush the Third Seat’s own flesh and bones.
From the disapprovals and rebukes brought out by their allies, it was clear that their reasoning alone failed to understand the most vital essence which surrounded the battle. Kyuketsu and Ryoujin were both able to make the tough decisions in the face of great adversity when no one else could do it. Raifuku’s final message was clear—it was fight or die. The other soul reapers, all of whom had but one symbol at their arsenal, would all ‘perish’ in that room because of their own inactions. They were far too drowned in the black-and-white dogmas of honor and camaraderie that they failed to realize what was needed of them at the time. Because they refused to play the twisted game set up by the puppeteer, they were inadvertently choosing to fail their duties.
As Ryoujin’s blade inched closer to Kyuketsu’s flesh with blinding speeds, a spark of life resonated from the opposite’s cutter. The silver gleam of the Acting Captain’s zanpakutou flourished before the speedster, dancing with a celestial grace divergent from their treacherous warzone of steep canyons and rallying thunders. A resounding boom shattered the hearing as both warrior’s steels slammed against one another, unleashing a grand shockwave that shook the very earth on which they both stood. A grin crept itself over Kyuketsu’s countenance as he locked sights with his adversary. Without another word, he spun, twisting his weapon into a whirlwind-like move which dared to ravage and crush the Third Seat’s own flesh and bones.
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