Mourning

The soft patter of rain broke Zeich’s concentration as he roamed the streets of Seireitei, his eyes lowered and his thoughts turned inward. The Seventh Seat had always been an introspective person, constantly thinking over his actions and what they meant, and as a result he often came off as a quiet stoic. Atop that, his muted emotions and his dislike of conversation just made him seem stand-offish and distant, which while the latter was true, the overall image was not. Zeich was just a man of few words and not much desire to speak them, especially since conversation seemed unimportant. He had no problem working with others, and had developed small relationships with a few of the other Shinigami. It was hard to really identify the subtle complexities of Zeich’s quiet nature without getting to know him, and because he was hard to get to know, he wasn’t easy to understand.

Zeich found himself looking up at the grey skies that loomed above Seireitei, the image bringing to mind the last time it had rained. The Shinigami had been doing the very thing he was doing now, wandering the streets, though he had been working through a much more painful dilemma at the time. When last it rained, Zeich had been dwelling on the death of a comrade among Shinigami, one of the few that he had come to think highly of, Hibiki Kuchiki. The medic had been somewhat of a mentor to the younger Shinigami at the time, sparring with him and helping him to better understand what it truly meant to be strong. However, he had died before that lesson had truly been learned, and as a result it was still a mystery that Zeich spent time puzzling through.

Thinking of Hibiki pulled at the old wound like a knife twisting in his stomach; Zeich frowned as he paused, a hand resting on his chest. It still was an odd feeling, these powerful bursts of emotion, and the Seventh Seat still did not feel comfortable with them. With his normal feelings generally muted, such strong emotions usually left him feeling on edge, jittery without cause, because he didn’t know how to deal with them. Grief was especially new; anger and elation were both ones he had felt in the past and could tolerate fairly well, but Zeich never really got too attached to things and tended to just accept when they were lost. When Hibiki had died, however, the Shinigami had begun to truly mourn, and though he kept his pain concealed behind the usual cold mask, it did bother him.

Zeich realized that he hadn’t taken the opportunity to visit Hibiki’s grave in a while; he had been distracted with a variety of missions of late, and as a result had been distracted, letting the pain sink to the back of his mind for a while. After a while, he had simply forgotten the sorrow, but now it came back to him full-force. Resolving to make one last trip to the grave to give himself some closure, and perhaps some time to think, the Seventh Seat changed his route so that he’d go by the Sokkyokku Hill, near which the grave was placed. At very least, Zeich figured that he owed the medic a moment of his time to pay his respects, and so he quickly made his way towards the graveyard.

It wasn’t a long trip, by far, and soon Zeich found himself at the grave site. As he approached, the Seventh Seat noticed that Hibiki’s grave had another visitor, and he slowed his pace. Not intending to eavesdrop, he nonetheless could hear the woman speaking to herself about the grave not being a proper epitaph. Curious, the Seventh Seat started to draw closer… until he noticed that the person was wielding some sort of bladed chain, and was holding it over Hibiki’s grave. Was she attempting to dig up the grave, to deface it in her anger at what seemed to be an improper interment? Zeich reacted without thinking, which was an unusual act for him, and suddenly lunged forward in a quick dash, catching the woman’s shoulder and halting her progress for a moment.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Zeich’s tone was still as cold as ever, but there was a slightly clipped tone to it, a hint of anger that peeked out from beneath the mask. Anger in such levels he had experienced before, and so it didn’t put him off, but that didn’t stop the Seventh Seat from trying to bottle it up anyway. “I don’t care if you don’t approve of the quality Vice-Captain Kuchiki’s burial; I will not allow you to desecrate his final rest.”

As soon as the woman began to turn, Zeich knew something was wrong. His whole body had been tingling instinctively, as if he intuitively knew something was wrong, but he had taken it as a flight of fancy, his natural wariness and paranoia seeing everything as a threat. But from the moment he grabbed her shoulder, that sense of wrongness flared up even worse than before. The reason why took him a moment to understand, but then it occurred to the Shinigami that it had occurred when he had grabbed the woman’s shoulder. And that’s when he realized that it didn’t feel natural, almost like armor was layered atop the skin; however, there was nothing there! Clearly this was some spiritual ability that the woman possessed… and it made Zeich think of one such ability that Soul Society was very familiar with: Hierro.

Arrancar…! Zeich’s eyes widened again, but for just a brief moment and only the barest of fractions, but it was enough to suggest that he was startled. Reflexively, his free hand went to Ventus, though he did not immediately draw it. To do so was to instigate combat, and Zeich was not wholly confident he could handle even a low-level Arrancar with his minimal spiritual strength. Rather than release his weapon from its sheath, the Shinigami took a reflexive step backwards, analyzing the situation as quickly as he could to decide his best course of action. Doing so actually allowed him to avoid the woman’s chain as it swept through the area where his arm had been only a moment before, though he hadn’t noticed it coming in his shock. Mentally he berated himself for his lack of awareness even as he prepared himself for potential combat.

A look at the woman suggested that she was not unfamiliar with combat; though her outfit may have been for more ascetic reasons rather than practicality, there were few handholds due to little material in the first place. Atop that, against an average male her exposure and well-curved form would have drawn reaction; Zeich was unaffected merely because the sexual aspect of his life had long since been rejected as primal and uncontrolled. The chain she held in her hands was a fierce weapon, bladed along its links so that not only would the thrown hook be capable of dealing lethal damage, but even a near-miss or a constricting wrap could be dangerous. The Seventh Seat made sure he’d keep an eye on that weapon, as it could spell the end for him in a heartbeat.

However, Zeich had one advantage, should it come to a fight: this Arrancar, whoever she was, was flustered and upset and thus incapable of reasoning completely. Zeich, on the other hand, was focused and calm aside from his initial shock at seeing an Arrancar within Seireitei, his mind clear as crystal. Even as the woman yelled at him, the Seventh Seat tried to determine the best way to attack. That Hierro made him a bit wary; due to his own low spiritual strength as compared to his physical one, Zeich knew from the reports that he’d be unable to cut the woman. Atop that, many Arrancar were reported to excel in that same category, meaning that his own weapons would be as brittle as glass in a clash of steel. This forced the Shinigami into hand-to-hand combat, using his Zanpaktou only for their released abilities rather than their use as weapons.

All this was considered in the few moments that the Arrancar was venting her fury, and Zeich broke from his thoughts as she finished. “…Are you quite done? I do not know what foul deed you intend with Vice Captain Kuchiki, but I do not intend to let you desecrate his resting place. You know as well as I do that by the time I go for assistance, you could have committed your act and been long gone, with us the fools once more.” It was more than the stoic Seventh Seat spoke on average by far, and atop that, the edge of anger was still in his tone. How dare this woman, this… monster think that she could threaten such a solemn sight? Anger was forced back down, swallowed up in the ice of Zeich’s cold nature, but it was present in his body language and the swell of his Reiatsu. The strength of it was nothing compared to the Arrancar’s, and she would probably brush it off. But there was something more to it, something unusual that she’d sense within it… something familiar.

You can feel me, can’t you…?

Zeich brushed the inner voice away, still afraid as to what it meant, what it was; the fact was that he, too, felt something horribly familiar about its presence, that dark desire for blood and death. But that was a problem for another time; for now, there was this Arrancar to deal with. The Shinigami knew full well that going with a standard attack would not suffice for dealing with the woman, however, and so he reached down with his left hand, drawing Ventus from its sheath. The thin, slim sword was more akin to a rapier with its thin, flexible blade, held comfortably in the Seventh Seat’s hand as he held it before him horizontally, arm outstretched. With his free hand, he sent a Hell Butterfly fluttering off, alerting his Captain and Vice Captain of the potential threat within Seiretei.

“ Let your howl echo to the four corners of the world, Ventus.” Releasing his Zanpaktou, Zeich freed it from his grasp only to let it begin spinning, gradually growing faster until it was a disc of steel. Slowly the disc refined itself into a new shape even as the gauntlet that was part of its form appeared on the Shinigami’s left forearm and hand, creating a bladed disc that easily slid into place across Zeich’s limb. The chakram rested comfortably in front of his left forearm, almost like a small buckler in terms of its overall radius, though the cross-like inlay that was within the ring would be ineffective against stabs and other narrow forms of attack,

Even as it was finished forming, the weapon spun briefly, twisting so that the point on the bladed ring that was marked with a “W” was facing his wrist, and thus forward. As Ventus switched to its Western mode, Zeich’s strength was diminished, but his already impressive speed doubled, allowing him to move at unnaturally fast speeds without even making use of a Shunpo. The Arrancar wouldn’t know this, however, as she had never encountered Zeich and thus did not know the powers that Ventus possessed. She would learn soon enough, however, and the Seventh Seat was determined to keep the woman busy long enough for aid to arrive; this would be easy enough, given his highly increased speed.

And then he was moving at lightning-fast speeds, nearly four times the Arrancar’s own; in a flash, the Shinigami was up in the woman’s face, his hand grasping for her throat and grabbing it in his own firm grip. Though his strength was diminished due to Ventus’s effects, Zeich was still far stronger than the average person, and could make use of his physical prowess no matter what. The hand on the Arrancar’s throat would squeeze momentarily for the sake of getting a grip before the Seventh Seat bore his opponent to the ground, pinning her body as best as he could using his own weight. If he could keep the woman’s arms held fast, then the bladed chain she made use of as her main weapon would be useless. She would still have access to Cero, however, and Zeich made sure to pay attention with his ability to sense energy; if something began to build up, then he’d retreat immediately.

“If you would talk, tell me your name.” The anger had finally been mastered, and Zeich’s emotions were under control once more. “I wish to know so that Hibiki may know the scum that would threaten his final rest when I speak with him after.”

Remaining Reiatsu: 800/1000 (-200 for Shikai)

Shikai: 1/10

Time was his. Zeich moved at blindingly fast speeds across the distance towards the Arrancar who had been threatening to desecrate Hibiki’s grave, his feet barely touching the ground with each step. His weapon remained at his wrist, rather than being released; the Shinigami knew better than to make use of the actual Zanpaktou thanks to his low spiritual strength, which would allow numerous opponents to simply shatter the weapon with a single blow. Instead he made use of its latent abilities to increase his combat prowess, enabling him to move at increased speeds or increase his strength. That was why he could swoop across the battle far faster than the Arrancar could simply react, hand outstretched to grab at her throat.

And then it happened. The woman let out her spiritual pressure, causing Zeich to suddenly shift his plans. It didn’t take much to suddenly plant his feet into the ground and jump backwards, reversing his momentum in just a brief moment. It was enough to keep him out of range of the woman’s bladed chain as it was brought up in a close-range stab with the Arrancar holding her weapon by the base of the hook. It was a devastating means of making a long-ranged weapon work even up close, when it was normally an awkward tool in melee combat. That meant that this Arrancar knew what she was doing despite wielding a long-ranged weapon. That should have been obvious, however, as this was an Arrancar he was dealing with; Hollows that made it to such a stage were deadly threats.

Once distance was placed between the two, Zeich held himself at ready, watching his opponent’s moves. The woman did not make any attempt to follow or attack, suggesting that she had something else in mind… or so it seemed until she started ranting about being interrupted in paying respects and being judged for being an Arrancar. Zeich was admittedly a bit surprised at the sudden onslaught of anger from the woman, though his stance didn’t waver. The only indication he gave was the slightest raising of his eyebrow to express his confusion at the Arrancar’s raving, but even the woman’s sudden burst of anger only got the barest reaction out of him. Clearly, he was not one to be moved easily.

Zeich spoke quietly, almost quickly enough to cut the Arrancar off; he began only the barest fraction of a second after she was done. “…Are you done yet? I don’t care to understand your thoughts or your reasons, Arrancar, but I can assure you your race bears no meaning to me in this situation. The moment you raised your weapon to defile Vice Captain Kuchiki’s grave was the moment you became my enemy. Whether you are an Arrancar or otherwise, it makes no difference in this matter.”

The Seventh Seat took a deep breath to calm himself, to prevent the anger that was bubbling up within him. Hibiki Kuchiki was one of the few people that Zeich had started to grow attached to, one of the few connections that he had allowed to form, and now his memory was being threatened. Even if it was just a marked stone to honor the fallen medic, it was the symbol that mattered. It was a sign of the impact Hibiki had left on the seated officer, causing him to care about something logic dictated held no value. It was just a stone, a rock that had words carved into it; why should it provoke such a reaction? Zeich didn’t know either, but he planned on protecting what his heart held dear, even if his head didn’t.

Another flash of speed came, this time from a Shunpo; against such an incredible burst of speed, which was over forty times her own, the Arrancar wouldn’t be able to react immediately. A single blow would come at her stomach, a fist clenched and striking with a sudden burst of power as Ventus was reversed, moving to its Eastern pole. Zeich’s strength was suddenly doubled, and his fist rocketed forward with an immense amount of power behind it, slamming into the Arrancar’s lower torso, right below the sternum. The Seventh Seat knew that he couldn’t win by cutting through the woman’s Hierro, as he lacked the spiritual strength to do so, but it only worked to prevent attacks that pierced the skin. Blunt trauma and force could still go through, in theory, though Zeich had never seen research on the matter; he had simply acted to protect something, and adapted to his reaction as best as he could.



To protect something… was this your strength, Vice Captain…?

And yet he still died…

Immediately after his blow, Zeich reverted Ventus to its Western form, getting his speed back and leaping out of range before a counterattack could come. He was particularly wary about the chains, knowing that getting out of their range would be difficult; if the Arrancar was half as skilled as Zeich suspected, then she would be able to wield her weapon viciously, making use of both the bladed links and the hooks on each end. The Seventh Seat suspected that it may be best to remain in Ventus’s Western mode, simply to keep ahead of the chain; the woman wasn’t that fast, at a first impression. Speed with the occasional switch to strength would be necessary in order to hold the Arrancar off until help arrived; Zeich harbored no illusions of winning. If he could keep the woman away from Vice Captain Kuchiki’s grave, that would be enough.

Face it, what has defending someone done? It’s made a martyr, a sacrifice out of someone strong for the sake of someone weak.

Shut up! I don’t know either, but it doesn’t matter. It’s my duty, my debt.

Your “debt," hm? Well then, why don’t I remind you of your debt to me… Time stopped again as Zeich felt himself being dragged into a memory.

The rope tightened, and suddenly the world was tinged with red and black haze. There was pain, constriction… a laugh echoed in the background, and then words came from even closer. “Bargain struck…” There was a face before him, wolfish and inhuman, white skin coating it… no, a mask! Yellow eyes glowed with evil intent as they met Zeich’s. Aa wicked grin spread across the demonic muzzle, a sense of pleasure and satisfaction rolling off of the beast like waves of oily liquid. The boy felt fear; fear of dying, fear of this monster. Yet for some reason he accepted the monster’s presence, and a bargain had been accepted. What was this bargain? He couldn’t remember…

Time shifted. Suddenly the constriction was gone, just leaving a burning pain around Zeich’s throat. His hands felt warm, wet; looking down, he stared in horror at the blood coating them. What had happened? A glance around showed over a dozen bodies, their throats ripped out, chunks of flesh simply torn away from the rest of their bodies and creating a scene of carnage around him. Zeich’s eyes darted to the bodies, and then back to his hands, and they widened in horror as he realized what had happened. He… he had killed all of these people. He didn’t remember doing it, but at the same time he felt… a horrible joy, a bloodlust, a desire for more that felt alien and wrong. He quickly forced it down, even as he fell to his knees, the last of his life spent…

Master, snap out of it! Zeich’s eyes suddenly refocused; it had only been a second or two, but it had left him wide open for the Arrancar to recover from her attack. That time could have been spent better preparing for her counterassault, readying the Seventh Seat for anything that could be thrown at him. Quickly he shifted, tensing his legs as he prepared to dodge should something come at him. A mental list of potential attacks came to mind; the Arrancar possessed her chain, which could be used at short or long distances, as well as the standard array of Hollow attacks, like Cero and Bala. It would be more effective to keep the battle in close-range, but Zeich knew that his low spiritual strength would prevent that from working; if Ventus was broken then the Shinigami would lose his only advantage. For now, he had to just wait and watch.

Remaining Reiatsu: 650/1000 (-50 for Shunpo, -100 for two Ventus shifts)



((OOC Edit: Apparently I missed a few words when I was writing, like Seventh >>Seat<< and stuff. Minor corrections, overall has not changed.))

Zeich’s speed easily overwhelmed the Arrancar, and he was pleased when his fist connected solidly, slamming into the woman’s middle with its enhanced strength. The blow sent pain rocketing through his arm, and he could feel the muscles strain and the bone creak; such a blow against Hierro had its consequences. Still, he got the results he had wanted, and the Arrancar was coughing, hacking up the contents of their stomach from the impact; even though Zeich had likely hurt his arm to the point it was severely weakened, he had still inflicted a noticeable blow, something most low-seated officers could not claim against an Arrancar of any rank. It wouldn’t be enough to win the fight, but it would certainly slow the woman down for a few minutes, and every second counted; the longer Zeich delayed her from escaping, the sooner help would arrive to capture or kill her.

The Seventh Seat winced as he stepped back, feeling numbness spreading through parts of his arm. He might not have broken his arm, but the potential was there for at least a minor fracture, and it would be hurting soon enough. It meant that he had to be careful with the use of his right arm, now that it was damaged; thankfully the Shinigami was ambidextrous, and could fight with both hands. Still, he would have to be very cautious, lest that weakness be exploited. It would probably be best to leave Ventus in its Western form and fight carefully, striking only when he was sure that there would be no retaliation. Attrition would have to win out while assistance arrived in the form of a Captain or another high-ranked officer; Zeich had no illusions that he could win this fight directly.

The Arrancar seemed inclined to talk, and as that was a potential delaying tactic that he could make use of, Zeich replied immediately, hoping to stall a bit longer. He was not a conversationalist, but he could at least hold the woman’s attention. “Innocent? Hardly. On average I do expect the worst from an Arrancar. You are Hollows made into the likeness of Shinigami, claiming our powers and using them to further your own dark ambitions. You deign to consume and kill, to wreak havoc. You are foul, evil creatures, and there is nothing else that can be said about any of your race. But in this instance… you are completely wrong.” The intensity in Zeich’s eyes showed that he was speaking with passion, something he rarely did; the man’s emotions and feelings were usually muted and buried. “Hibiki Kuchiki was a great man, who died while doing his duty and defending what he believed in. I would cut down anyone who threatened his memory, whether it be Shinigami, Arrancar, or human. No one has such a right.”

Zeich’s hand tightened as he gripped Polaris, tempted to draw her from her sheath, but the Seventh Seat knew his other Zanpaktou would be useless in this situation. Not only would it be unable to pierce the Arrancar’s Hierro, but it would also break easily against the woman. Instead of resorting to weapons combat, Zeich would have to remain with hand-to-hand. He wasn’t particularly skilled at it, but he wasn’t without some talents either, and he remembered much of what he had been taught about combat against Hierro; joints and blunt force were the way to go. However, without some way of mitigating the damage done to the limb upon a direct strike, Zeich knew that blunt force was out; he had learned the hard way that it would only cripple him to deal minor hits to the Arrancar. He would have to aim for joint locks while he looked for any other weaknesses that might aid him.

Zeich was moving again in another blur of movement, keeping Ventus in its speed mode. The Shinigami darted in towards the woman, but at an angle, using two non-Shunpo steps to blur rapidly across the area. In a second he was behind the Arrancar, and then he was dashing forward again, closing the distance. Even if the woman had a fair amount of reaction speed, she would be hard-pressed to be turning sufficiently in order to counter with her chain. Cero was a potential option, and Zeich kept his senses tuned to pick up any Reiatsu-based techniques charging. It wouldn’t do to be struck by a Cero just as he was closing the distance, rendering evasion useless at point-blank; if he anticipated anything in the slightest, he could simply jump back and out of the way, or Shunpo past the attack. He was confident his speed and reflexes would allow him to dodge.

Then he struck. Zeich moved in close, bending at his right knee so that he would be able to push off of the ground with a Shunpo in case of a counterattac, pushing him away. It wouldn’t be the most graceful launch and probably leave him spinning slightly, but it was better than the injuries he could accrue. His other leg shot out horizontally, the booted foot connecting powerfully against the back of the Arrancar’s knee. Should she not dodge or prevent his attack, the fast strike would at least cause her leg to buckle for a moment, leaving another opening to strike. If it did not work, the Sixth Seat planned to move back, stay out of melee range unless absolutely necessary. If it did, he planned to follow up. It would all depend on the woman’s reactions to his attack.

Shikai: 3/10

Zeich felt his foot connect with the woman’s limb, and though he heard a pop upon the hit and felt the grinding of bones as the threat of fracture became more than just a possibility, the Arrancar started to buckle beneath the blow, her balance lost. The Shinigami pushed himself back as he had planned, his body twisting as he moved himself out of the way, landing carefully as the Shunpo carried him away from his opponent. His ankle quivered under the weight of his body as he landed, and Zeich quickly shifted his stance to avoid worsening his injury. He was doing well in buying time, but in doing so he was doing more damage to himself than he was to the Arrancar, meaning that if help didn’t come soon, he would have to resort to keeping far away lest he injure himself too severely to continue the battle.

As he shifted himself, the Arrancar regained her balance and began talking down to him once more. Zeich’s eyes narrowed at the woman’s philosophy about how Arrancar were the superior race, about how he was standing in her way; he disagreed with such a cocky and arrogant attitude, though he said nothing. No race was superior because of power or strength; it made them the fittest for survival and the race most likely to last beyond each generation, but it did not make them superior or inferior by birth. Zeich himself had little self-worth as a Shinigami, but he held himself above murderers, monsters that devoured souls in order to survive; his duty, his role, and his meaning was to protect, to defend humanity and the cycle of souls that made up existence. He was proud of that, despite his low self-worth, and saw himself as far better than any form of Hollow.

Zeich started to disagree, but a tug at his senses, the faintest echo of another’s Reiatsu, caused the Shinigami’s head to turn slightly. Help had arrived! The Seventh Seat could easily tell that it was more Shinigami come to help; they didn’t have the same foul aura that the Arrancar before him possessed. Quickly Zeich moved back away from his opponent, using Ventus’s power combined with very careful steps in order to make a fair amount of distance between the two of them. Each step caused a wince across the Shinigami’s face; if his foot wasn’t broken, it was still fairly injured, and excessive weight could only aggravate it worse. It was enough, however, and soon he was out of range, letting help arrive.

However, just as the Shinigami were arriving, the Arrancar turned towards Hibiki’s gravestone in a fit of rage, proclaiming that if she could not have him, no one could. Zeich, surprised by the suddenly vehement response, could only watch as the gravestone was blasted into oblivion by a powerful Cero, not even dust left where it had once been. The ground beneath was empty; Hibiki Kuchiki’s body had never been found, and thus there was no coffin, no body within the grave. Zeich watched as the destructive Cero was unleashed out of impotent rage, his eyes pitying the pathetic creature that stood before him. And then, once she was done, he spoke quietly, carefully.

“What have you accomplished here, Arrancar? You have placed yourself in enemy territory, helped draw a crowd towards your presence, and destroyed an empty grave. You’ve proven yourself to be self-centered, unbalanced, and worst of all, unfit. You call yourself superior, a member of a better people, yet you have let a low-seated officer make a fool of you. And in the end, you behave like a child, destroying what you cannot have. I pity you, Arrancar.”

With that, Zeich turned to leave, to let the other Shinigami handle any remaining matters. There was no reason for him to remain, to be a part of this spectacle; he had said his part, and no longer wanted to be anywhere near the scene. Aside from that, he wanted to get away from the Arrancar, to take time to think. Before the woman had destroyed Hibiki’s gravestone, Zeich had seen tears flowing down the woman’s face, bitter tears of frustration and pain. He had not thought Hollows could cry, could feel anything besides greed, hunger, the desire to consume and destroy. But he had just seen an Arrancar cry; what did that mean? Were Arrancar more human than everyone believed? Was there something more to them than the Shinigami suggested?

Can monsters cry…?

Shikai: 4/10

Remaining Reiatsu: 600/1000 (-50 for Shunpo)