You're Not You When You're Hungry. [Solo/Training]

[Yaksha Dokuja]

(Training for SP, as well as chowing down for CTP.)

Eaten: 9 Class 7 hollows, 2 class 7 Arrancar, 1 Class 6 hollow

How long had it been since Yaksha had fed without concern for propriety, or his status, or anything but the sheer thrill of the hunt?  He'd spent so many months and years in the human world, getting by with scant morsels here and there, like a man living on bread and water.  It had left him feeling irritable, unable to really think or hold a proper conversation lately.  Everyone he met struck him as unbearably boring, and it seemed so very simple to just reach out and snuff them out, like someone pinching out a candle.  But he knew that there was no good outcome to something like that; he'd eaten humans a few times, to be sure, but never without good cause, and never without some degree of guilt.  In moments like these, with the thought of fresh blood and flesh yielding beneath his jaws, Yaksha went home.

Now, as he skulked along the sands, he sensed it, only a few hundred yards off, on the other side of a dune.  There were three hollows, all gathered around what seemed to be the decaying corpse of a Gillian.  He began to subtly position himself atop the dune, moving with the skulking prowl of a predator who had no doubt whatsoever that it could strike down its prey in a single blow.  He had already decided that, if any of them attempted to run, he'd simply let them; it wouldn't hurt that badly to lose one more meal, and the chances of some other scavenger coming to snag his kill before he could actually chow down was too high.  So he clamored atop the dune, watching the three of them eating in absolute silence.  It was odd, somehow triggering a sense of wrongness in Yaksha's head.  Why should these three have some sort of camaraderie?  Simply because they were all predators?  Didn't any of them understanding what organic solidarity was?

I've changed my mind.  All three of them are going to die.  If I don't get to feast, so be it.  There's a lesson they must learn here.

This thought completed, Yaksha launched himself from atop the dune, landing with both feet onto the back of the smallest hollow, which resembled an oversized housecat.  He felt a satisfying crunch beneath his feet, and reached down with a claw to rake across its head, giving no opportunity for it to recover and join the fight that was to come.  Between its now mangled eyes and its broken back, the beast would have no option but to sit there, listening on in pain and fear as Yaksha tussled with its two compatriots.  A fitting torment for someone as pitiful as him.

As he was leaning down, poised to tighten his jaws around the crippled hollow's neck and crush it, to savor the first taste of a new kill, to get his tanks full for the battle to come, he could already sense as much as see it, in a way that he likely could've never put to words.  He leaned backwards, with a fluidity and queer bonelessness that few other creatures could've managed, leaning at very nearly a parallel line from the sands, to avoid an uppercut that had been aimed towards his head, intent to either knock it off entirely or leave him sprawled on the ground, easy prey for the second hollow.  He let out a low, delighted chuckle, and lashed out with a foot towards this hollow, which resembled some strange mix between a ram and a gorilla; all thick, heavy slabs of muscle on its upper body, and giant curling horns.  But its lower body was remarkably poorly-built, and a single well-placed kick left it flinching for a moment, and gave Yaksha all the time he needed to get back to a full standing position.

"You do realize that the entire point of bipedal movement over quadrapedal is that you -don't- let your legs get hit, right?"

He swayed backwards, kicking off of the disabled hollow to avoid another sweeping blow, this one telegraphed far in advance.  He landed on the sand, and began to rake his clawed fingers through them, letting each individual grain slide against his scales, and focus his mind for the fight to come.  He inhaled and exhaled slowly, carefully, watching as the creature took a four-legged stance, clearly prepared to pounce or charge.  Pouncing was, in Yaksha's eyes, too stupid a move to contemplate seriously; any creature that size would find itself unable to push away from the ground long enough to get close to him, and even if it did it would need an extra second to orient itself.  Easy shot.  His tail coiled beneath himself, ready to lash out in the event something -did- come from above, as he met eyes with the meathead.

After three seconds, it finally released an enormous bellow, and charged directly for Yaksha...who threw a handful of sand without any hesitation or fanfare, circling around it as the creature let out a snort of frustration and anger.  He swiped down with his claw towards one of its tiny, unprotected legs, only for his tail to lash upwards at something he only barely actually saw, batting it aside and eliciting a hiss of irritation.  His tail, stinging from the pain almost as if it had just struck a baseball going at 90 mph, had distracted him from an otherwise easy strike, and left his opponent time enough to plant both knuckles firmly on the ground, raising its back legs in a mule kick that once more may have killed him if he weren't quite so agile.  Yaksha fell backwards entirely this time, as if he were about to land in water, and for a moment it looked like he was a perfect target for a follow-up strike, until his tail slammed into the ground hard enough to send him careening in a half-crescent, landing a good couple arms' lengths from the hollow.  Too dim to realize this, the beast had already turned, and slammed its fist into the sands, sending up a puff of sand that obscured vision nicely.  Yaksha, relatively unimpeded by this change, leapt forward, prepared to coil his tail around its throat and simply start choking it out.

Once more, his plans were thwarted by a well-placed projectile, slamming into his back and robbing him of momentum.  He ended up skidding across the sands, landing a few paces away from the ape-like hollow, and letting out another grunt of irritation.  This time, he hadn't been prepared, and he could already guess why.  Turning his head towards the sky, he could see a creature gliding past in a slow descent, a pair of flaps attached to its thin, spindly arms slowing its descent.  He let out a small chuckle of delight at seeing that, and even clapped for a second, before he had to open his mouth in a huge, grotesque display that resembled a snake with its jaw unhinged, as he shot his head forward to take a bite out of the leg of the ape that had, in what it had probably thought was a great act of subtlety, had walked over within arms' reach as he was looking up.

What did he think was going to happen?  That I'd look back down, see his eyes, and say 'oh crap'?  Oh, gods, this is what counts as my -peer- in this world.

He gulped down the roughly fist-sized chunk of flesh he'd managed to tear off the ape hollow, and lashed out with his tail to redirect its fist ever so slightly, as he once more took to his feet.  He could already see red fluids staining the sands, and the hollow's expression was one of mingled pain and confusion as it leaned forward for a headbutt.  Yaksha never even bothered to dodge, instead simply kicking at its injured leg, forcing it to buckle and turning the forward motion into an oblique angle, that left him faceplanting into the dirt.  This time, Yaksha took no chances, never letting his vision leave the sky as he raked across the creature's neck two, three, five times, letting more and more blood stain the sands, until he felt no more struggling.

"Looks like your comrades weren't much good at all.  Why are you even still here, hm?  You can fly.  Or glide, at least.  And I can tell you're at least a bit more clever, or powerful, than those two are."

"You're not nearly as clever as you think you are."

"Oh, I disagree.  My wits are so sharp, I sometimes fear cutting myself."

The only reply to this was another projectile, this time from ground level, flung through the cloud of settling sand the hollow had created earlier.  This one landed squarely on Yaksha's shoulder, turning the entire limb as numb as if he'd plunged it into cold water, and making him laugh hysterically.  He rose his other hand, opening and closing it as if he were trying to wave, and walking slowly towards the cloud.

"How many more of those can you throw?  Two?  Three?  Even if it's five or six, it's a gamble.  One-on-one now, and you don't dare try and toss another of those while I'm watching you.  Fast they may be, but not so fast I can't see them coming.  And frankly, your aim is shit.  If I'm paying attention, you won't hit."

"You talk too much."

This said, another bala was launched, only for Yaksha to duck it entirely, and begin to clamor forward, through the gusts of sand, to see the adorably puff-cheeked hollow staring at him with absolute venom.  It had already raised one of its arms in front of its torso and head, as if it were wielding a shield, eliciting a faint exhalation of polite interest from Yaksha, as he began to circle the hollow, trying to get behind it.  The creature managed to keep pace with him, always keeping its limb between its vulnerable limbs and its opponent, as he seemed to examine it for some sort of weakness.

"That's four.  Getting a little worn out?  Feeling your limbs grow heavy?  My arm's fine, by the way.  I can already flex my fingers a bit.  I'm only going to get stronger, and you're only going to get weaker.  You relied too much on your friends to keep your targets busy.  You should've focused more on your aim, and then you might've been able to keep me from getting this close."

"Shut up."

Yaksha let out a loud, delighted cackle, raking both hands against the sand, before he rose to his full height, long greenish strands of hair leading off from the back of his head like moss.  They began to twitch and writhe as he watched the hollow circling, its hand trembling ever so slightly.  Keeping any limb steady at that level of elevation had to be exhausting, something that could only be held for a minute or two...and even if it swapped to its other hand, that left Yaksha with a split second to make his attack.

He watched the tremors and the hesitation with rapt attention, tongue poking free from his mouth as he did, tail thrashing back and forth.  He said nothing else, simply observed and waited.  It was nearly five minutes before the hand started to descend, and at that exact moment Yaksha sprung with speed like a striking snake.  The hollow, clever as it was, had already raised its other hand to protect its chest and head.  But Yaksha's target was nowhere near the chest, or head.  With as much speed as he could manage, he clamped his teeth around the descending arm, snapping the bones in it and jerking the creature forward.  Stumbling and cursing, it met Yaksha's tail coming upwards, head slamming back into the dirt, as Yaksha let out a low crooning sigh.

"God, dealing with hollows is such childs' play."

"Then how about you deal with us, eh?  It's the least you can do, after messing up our cute mascota."

Crap.

[Yaksha Dokuja]

"You know, I wondered-"

Before Yaksha could even finish the thought, he felt a hand clasping his head, squeezing tightly enough to leave him feeling like his head was about to explode.  His hands clenched beneath him, jaw tightening as he waited it through.  The speaker was clearly trying to make a point, or he would've already been killed.  He sat in silence, feeling the vice-like grip on his skull and knowing with clear certainty that this person could've torn his head off with the same ease one would rip a drumstick off of a roasted chicken.  He simply sat there, tail coiled beneath him.

"I don't much care what you wonder, little guy.  I'll say it simple: You kill our mascota, you take their place.  We spent a lot of time making sure those three little cutie-butts grew up big and juicy.  But you're not even that cute.  You want to live, you better make our hearts skip a beat, comprende?"

"Why do you insist on speaking in Spanish?  I know you weren't Spanish before you died."

"Ayyyy, yo!  That's not cute at all!  Come on, are you even listening?"

The pressure disappeared as quickly as it had came, and Yaksha rose to his feet slowly, turning to face the speaker.  For a moment, it was like looking into a mirror; there were two of them, the same in their eyes, expressions, their stances, but one of them wore a long, flowing robe that seemed to billow all around her, and the other had an outfit that almost looked like animal skins, tight on his torso and legs, that showed off a staggering amount of muscle and flesh.  The more masculine of the two, obviously the speaker, folded his arms around his chest, and gave a smug grin that immediately made Yaksha want to scream and claw at his eyes, to pluck them out.  The girl, meanwhile, looked downright bored.  Her eyes flickered left and right, taking in all the surroundings, as if she were trying to find something more interesting to do.  Yaksha wouldn't have been surprised if she had pulled out a phone, or starting smacking a piece of gum noisily.

"Hey, bro?"

"Hey hey, hey.  Don't interrupt him, sis.  It's time for him to show us some neat tricks, ain't it?"

She glanced towards Yaksha, giving him an almost apologetic raise of the brows, and then made a faint hand-flicking gesture; a faint, almost lazy recognition of her brother's own words.  She began to tie back her hair absentmindedly, while watching Yaksha with eyes that, despite looking utterly uninterested, clearly took in his every action, his every small movement.  The older of the two, by comparison, was gesticulating and grinning constantly, as if he thought by himself being as bold and histrionic as possible, it would inspire Yaksha to respond in kind.  He sighed ever so slightly, clearing his throat, and meeting the male's gaze, as he began to hum, singing in a rich, deep bass tone.

"Your mom gaaaaay~"

Immediately, his face fell, and his hands went to his side, as his 'sister' covered her mouth with a hand, eyes bulging as she entered a coughing fit, clearly trying to avoid showing off her enjoyment of the joke.  The male began to spread his legs apart, and kicked off from the dirt at a speed that Yaksha found concerning, his own muscles and limbs only barely getting warmed up as he felt a stiff jab to his solar plexus, sending him skidding back across the sand.  The arrancar gave him no time to pause, his grin never fading as he took two steps forward, elbowing Yaksha in the throat as he attempted to raise his head.  Letting out a low, pained wheeze, he swiped out weakly with one claw, only barely drawing a ribbon of blood from one arm, before a leg swept his feet out from underneath him.

"You wanna shake hands?  Do it right!  C'mon, up! Up!  You wanna beat up on someone else's mascota, you gotta be prepared to deal with his master."

Yaksha began to push to his feet, watching the man bounce about lazily from one foot to the next; immediately, he could see that he was dealing with a seasoned opponent, someone who was well-trained in the martial arts.  He could already feel his gorge rising, fought back a fleeting urge to roll over onto his back and start begging for mercy.  Death here would be horrible, but there were still some things worth living for.  And, if he were any judge, he was pretty sure he already knew this arrancar's weak spot.  He rose once more, lowering his center of gravity towards the sands, and then raising his claws in the best display he could.

"Excellente!  That's what I wanna see in a mascoto!  It's one thing to be cute and funny like they were.  But a good mascota should be -fierce-!  Fight by our side, guy.  Work with us!  We'll keep you well fed, and fat!"

"I'll even help you do something nice with your hair."

The girl's eyes met Yaksha's for a moment, silently pleading; it was clear she took no enjoyment from watching her brother strong-arm others into getting their way, that she would've wanted to have him sleeping in her room, to pamper him and treat him kindly...and such a life would've been a death of an entirely different sort.  Whether it was in the hands of a savage warrior, or a benevolent dictator, to bow his head in such a manner would be worse than death on his own terms.

"Go fuck yourself."

The smile finally disappeared, for a split moment, as the man began to trace the small cut on his arm.  He looked almost troubled for a moment, as he chewed on his lower lip, and then pointed at the sand in front of him.

"Last chance.  I like you, guy.  But I can't leave here empty-handed.  You join us, or I drag all these corpses off and feed them to another of our mascoto."

"Pets.  Call them what they are.  Your pets.  I'm no one's pet."

"...Alright, yo.  I'm sorry it ended like this."

"It won't end the way you think."

"That's enough.  I'm tired of hearing you shit on our goodwill, kid."

As soon as the words left his mouth, before Yaksha could even finish hearing them, the arrancar launched himself in a flying kick that left one of Yaksha's arms dangling limp at his side, disconnected from the socket immediately by the force and savagery.  It was followed up immediately after by a double-laced fist smashing into the back of his head, and a knee rising from below, both smashing into his head so hard it would've pulverized a stone to dirt.  The arrancar swept around in a spin, sending his foot smashing through Yaksha's teeth, causing the hard ridge of bone at the back of his mouth to shatter.

All this done, the man hunched forward, panting ever so slightly, and then looking at the sand with a tormented expression.

"...Shit I hate losing a cool cat like that one."

"Bro..."

The pain and fear in his sister's voice caused the arrancar to turn without speaking a word, his expression once more worried, only for it to turn to dismay and concern, as he saw what was there before him.  Laying at his feet, like a thin piece of cloth, was a roughly head-shaped piece of old flesh that he had just spent the last ten seconds pummeling into paste.  And standing in front of his sister, blood drenching his undamaged arm, Yaksha leered, strands of her hair caught between his teeth.  Her eyes were glazed over, her forehead leaking blood constantly, covering her face and turning what was almost certainly hours of makeup work into a horrible, grisly display.

"Ay Dios Mio..."

"Is that coconut shampoo I taste?  I like it.  You'll have to tell me the brand sometime."

[Yaksha Dokuja]

"Okay, that's a neat trick.  How'd you do it, little guy?"

Yaksha never bothered replying with words; instead, his free hand slid into the arrancar's throat, slowly separating meat from bone, causing still more blood to gush forth.  He met his opponent's gaze, seeing the blood spill and stain the sands around them, his expression smug and triumphant the entire time.  He continued to apply gentle pressure, increasing it ever so slightly each time he saw the arrancar tensing to approach.

"Alright!  That's enough, yo!  Leave her out of this!  I brought her along as a healer, pendejo!  In case you got hurt so bad you almost died!  She wasn't supposed to be fighting at all!  You leave my lil sis out of this!"

"Is she, though?  Your sister, a healer, a civilian?  Is any of that true, really?  You're an arrancar.  You decided to take the easy way out to power.  Both of you.  You're broken people, and worse yet, instead of learning to wield your impurities as a weapon, you tried to cover them up.  She isn't without sin.  Even if you removed your mask first, and she followed suit to join you, then she's guilty of the sin of allying with a villain.  You can't actually expect me to believe you when you say any of that.  You spoke down to me, treated me as an animal.  Now, that same animal you looked down on is going to kill you.  And her.  Accept it."

"Like hell I will!  How many mascoto you think I got, man?  I'll shit thunder and rain fire down on you if you hurt her any more.  Try me, pendejo.  I'll show you what I did to earn this lion's pelt.  Skinned it off a fuck tons tougher than you."

"That's nice."

Without a single extra word, Yaksha's claws raked downwards and outwards, slicing her throat into a mangled, unrecognizable mess of torn meat.  A single stroke, a negligent motion no different from opening a can of beer, and Yaksha had killed a woman.  Worse yet, he'd profaned her; turned a once beautiful, special person into nothing more than a steaming pile of meat.  By raking his claws, Yaksha had made a mockery of family, of love, and of countless good things, proclaiming his disdain for all of them.  He watched the arrancar in front of him, clearly on the verge of a breakdown, tears in his eyes, as Yaksha yawned.

"Call them.  I'm not anywhere near sated enough yet.  A few more snacks while I finish you off would be quite welcomed."

"The fuck is wrong with you!?  She was nice to you, wasn't she!?  You didn't even fuckin' know her and you're just gonna waste her like that?  You're exactly why we had to take those masks off, yo.  You're a monster.  Walkin', talkin', don't change anything.  I wanted to do everything I could to get away from people like you."

"If you think that, then you don't know a damned thing.  I'm older than your pitiful mind could possibly imagine, you little whelp.  I've fragmented, glued myself together, shattered all over again.  I've been more iterations than you can possibly imagine.  I see a world vastly different from the one you do.  It's instinct which drives our kind, not malice, or hatred.  I held her no ill will, but your actions had proven unpardonable to me.  Now, that look in your eyes?  That hatred?  That pain, that loss?  You finally see me as an equal.  That's all I wanted.  From the moment we met, I neither underestimated, nor overestimated you.  This happened because you saw me as a -pet-.  You'll never get to learn from that mistake."

Having listened throughout the entire conversation, the arrancar rose to his knees, lips twitching slightly.  He looked on the verge of breaking down, or laughing, or any number of things.  Emotions seemed to war across his face, too many to count, each one vying for a turn.  He opened his mouth once, twice, paused, and then shook his head.  Yaksha could feel a sick surge of empathy, but it was overwhelmed immediately by a wave of delight; finally, he'd unleashed the anguish and hatred in the man in front of him.  That smug, sickening display had infuriated him.

"Whelp.  S'funny you'd use that word.  That's my name.  Cachorro.  She was Cachorra.  We weren't real sisters, but we got adopted by a fraccion.  Tough sunnuvabitch.  Always treated us nice, told us from the day we met that we was to forget all that shit about blood, and relatives.  Said family was about who ached when you bled.  I hated him, the longest time.  We both wanted to evolve.  Wanted to kick his ass, go all Gillian on him.  Surpass him.  But she was too nice, too shy.  And all she ever wanted to do was collect shiny shit.  You were wrong about one thing, hollow.  She removed her mask first.  She wanted to be pretty again, y'know?  Sounded like the stupidest thing in the world to me.  She didn't even give a shit she'd never be able to go any further in life, grow strong enough to kick the ass of the guy who had caused us so much grief.  She just wanted to get compliments on her hair, or have a guy slap her ass.  Fuckin' women, I thought.  But now I sorta get it.  Putting up with shit you hate is part of being a family, you get it?  And if that guy was a gigantic pain in my fuckin' ass?  Well, that's what a dad's supposed to be, I guess."

"I see.  I'm sorry that I had to do this.  But I've never much cared about family ties, or anything like that.  I don't seek to dominate, nor do I wish to be dominated.  You can still walk away, Cachorro.  Right now.  I'll bury her respectfully.  I won't touch her body."

"Nah.  Fuck that.  Here comes the thunder, pendejo."

Cachorro tilted his head back, screaming in a voice of anguish and hatred, causing the very air around them to shake.  Yaksha felt it, as much as heard it, a pull deep in his bones and the back of his head.  He knew that cry was almost certainly heard from half a mile away, and now he was going to have to suffer the consequences of his action.  He tilted his head to the side, watching Cachorro flex his muscles, tears still coming down from his face as he finally kicked off from the ground, prepared to headbutt Yaksha.  The hollow, frowning in disappointment, flexed his unwounded arm, lifting the surprsingly heavy corpse, and placing it between the two of them like a shield.

"Still pretty in death, I'd say.  I only damaged her throat, and her forehead.  Not too late to take her home and pretty her up.  But if you insist on fighting, there's no telling how many hits she'll take in my place."

Cachorro skidded to a halt at the closest possible distance to Yaksha, staring with such venom in his eyes that Yaksha actually felt himself trembling.  He'd seen this guy's strength first-hand, and knew only one or two hits would finish him off.  He needed a way to buy some time, some space, to get his arm back in its socket and keep the fight going.  He felt a nauseousness rising in the pit of his stomach, leveling her body like some poker chip in a game against her brother, but he could see no other way to get out of this alive.  He circled around the arrancar, careful to always keep her covering the vast majority of his body, making any strike too big a gamble.

"Get her back, yo.  Whoever does gets every fuckin' scrap of meat lyin' around here, and my gratitude."

Yaksha rose a brow, never bothering to turn behind him and see what had arrived; instead, he simply let his senses expand outwards, towards the approaching opponents.  There were five more of them, moving in a slow, unorganized manner that made him wonder if they even realized that all three of them were supposed to be on the same side.  He let out a small, lazy laugh, and then bowed his head towards the ground.

One arm dislocated, one arm that couldn't let go of the corpse it was holding unless he wanted to get his skull smashed in instantly, and three opponents.  Moments like these, Yaksha truly longed for a pack of his own, or some real combat training.  Instead, he had to let out a small sigh, sizing up each of the five hollows approaching.  They varied in a great number of ways, but one thing was clear in each of them: He saw not a shred more intellect than the ram had exhibited.  That was good; a hollow that dumb never knew how to use its weapons properly.  And a weapon one couldn't use belonged to one's opponent.

As the first of the hollows approached, in a high leap, Yaksha once more fell back onto his tail, letting it support his weight as he rose both feet up and outwards, turning its forward momentum up and over, and forcing it to land on its back, scrabbling in the sands.  He had barely a second to comprehend before the next one approached, and had to whip his head to the side, hair flying forward in a distracting display that left it screaming in frustration as it misstepped, barreling straight past.  The third one approached from the side, clearly aiming for his arm instead of the kill.  That made it all too easy for Yaksha to unhinge his jaw once more, catching the fourth approaching hollow around the leg as it attempted to kick down at his mask, and begin worrying at it.  As the fifth approached, Yaksha jerked his head to the side, flinging the captured hollow towards its 'comrade', and sending the two falling into a small pile.  At this exact moment, the third hollow pounced, prepared to sever his arm.

It likely would've succeeded, if Yaksha's tail hadn't been slowly and steadily digging a hole where it could, spreading out the sand ever so slightly.  As Yaksha lunged forward, dragging the body with him, the hollow landed where he had been a few moments previously, only for one of its legs to fall into the pit; it snapped with a painful noise, and the hollow began to yowl in mindless pain and hatred, as Yaksha rose back to his feet.  He was panting, clearly worn out, but his grip on Cachorra's body hadn't ever wavered, and each of the hollows was clearly reeling from their attempts to strike.

"How many more do you plan to throw at me?  Seven?  Eight?"

"As many as it takes.  You're smart, but you can't keep that up much longer."

"And neither can they.  Only two of them made it away from that unscathed.  Do you think they'll fight to the death, because you asked them to?"

"Yeah.  Cause I'll kill 'em if they run."

"It's an infinite desert.  How do you plan to find them, exactly?"

As he said this, Yaksha approached the pile of two hollows, snarling and spitting at one another.  The more wounded of the two was lashing out at the hollow that it had hit, its entire body covered in what looked like sharp spines that had dug into the skin.  Yaksha craned his head down, crunching down on its neck with a single sharp snap, and then kicking the other hard enough to elicit a yowl.  By now, the blinded hollow and the one who had made its first reckless pounce was back on their feet, staring murder at him.  He let his tongue loll out in an almost dog-like gesture of excitement, as he watched them whipping themselves into a frenzy.

One of them began to dig at the dirt, sending it flying over its head in huge, crumbling clumps that destroyed visibility.  The other once more leapt across the space between them, this time landing a few feet short, and sending its tongue out in a long, sticky projectile that looked very well-suited to tugging at objects.  Yaksha extended his arm fully outwards, mouth opening once more to bite off its tongue in one smooth motion, and then barreling into the hollow, using the corpse as a battering ram to pin it to the ground, and once more give a fatal crunch, teeth sinking into its face.

"And then there were three.  How many pets do you even have, hm?  How many more that will respond to your call?  Accept it.  Unless you're ready to watch her body turn into a slab of bruises, you won't win."

Cachorro's eyes narrowed at this, hand raising slowly as he shook his head.

"Think you're so clever.  Think you're hot shit.  I stopped listening a while back.  Keep wearing yourself out.  Soon as I see an opening, I'm taking it."

Yaksha let out another low, bemused sigh, and then turned towards the digging hollow, a brow raised in faint surprise.  It was still hard at work, even as the hollow that had broken one of its legs was trying to charge at Yaksha in a stilted, skittering motion.  Yaksha dodged its pounce smoothly, kicking upwards with one of his legs, and sending it smashing into the pile of hollows he'd previously killed one of.  He began to walk towards the digging hollow, drool all but falling from his mouth now as he used his tail to prop up the corpse for a few seconds, gripping his dislocated arm and slowly, with great pain and anguish, attempting to slot it back into place.

That was exactly when Cachorro went in for the kill, firing off a pair of the bala projectiles from before.  Each one was aimed at the sand in front of Yaksha, cutting off visibility as he charged forward, lips pinched in a frown as he spun around in a circle, aiming to grab at Yaksha's ponytail.  His hands slid through the fountaining curtain of sand, snatched something, and pulled it through the sand, prepared to smash it to pulp with his forehead.  As he finished the motion, Cachorra's horrified, pale face met his own, her nose striking his just right to skew to the side, giving it an undeniably smashed look.

"Fuck!  Where'd he go how'd he do that what the -fuck-!?"

There was the sound of another set of bones crunching, only for the digging hollow to stiffen entirely, one hand raising towards its back, and the other deep in the sand.  Yaksha stood there, atop the corpse, grinning his own smug sneer, and then spitting out a glob of gristle towards Cachorro.

"Well.  You got her back.  Shall we tango, then?  Do you want to risk me getting her back?"

"Not gonna happen.  I'm still in fighting trim, and you can barely stand.  We'll end this with one last blow."

"Mmmmh."

Cachorro set his sister down on the ground, closing her eyes with one arm, reverentially, and then planting both feet.  He began to inhale, staring at Yaksha as his reaitsu flared, his killing intent becoming perfectly clear as he began to focus every bit of power he could towards his fists.  He let out a roar that was dangerously close to a lion's, and leapt directly towards Yaksha, who met the leap with one of his own.  The arrancar let out another snarl, fist striking Yaksha straight in the solar plexus once more...only for his chest to crumble into that same paper-like substance as before.  Before Cachorro could even react, he had hit the ground, only to find a foot slamming into his head from behind, pinning him.

"...The fuck'd you do that, man...?"

"Hell of a trick, ain't it?  Die confused."

He leaned down, teeth clamping around the back of the arrancar's neck and causing him to jerk just once, before going fully still.  Yaksha turned back around, walking very slowly, with the sort of trembling steps one would expect from a person dangerously drunk, or on the verge of death.  Approaching the last two of the remaining hollows, he finished the broken-legged creature by grabbing its leg, twisting and tearing at it until it came off entirely.  The final of the hollows looked up at him in dread horror, as the band of reishi holding his hair together snapped, too strained to hold itself anymore.  The curtain of hair locked off its final look of dismay, leaving only the sounds of crunching and biting to fill the sands, as Yaksha went to work gorging himself after a good workout.

[Shizuka Sanamizu ✮]

Hey! Just as a note, when you post trainings or rampages or anything relating a Hollow, please include the consumptions, what they were, and what Class of being was consumed. You're free to edit this thread to include those now and I will finish the grading once that is done. Thanks!

[Yaksha Dokuja]

Updated with relevant info.

[Shizuka Sanamizu ✮]

Consumptions:

• 9 Class 7 Hollows: 50 x 7 = 350
• 2 Class 7 Arrancar: 150 x 2 = 300
• 1 Class 6 Hollow: 50

Total: 700 CTP

Paragraphs:

36 paragraphs / 2 for SP conversion = 16 x 5 = 80 SP

To clarify why the value may possibly be lower than you would have expected since you have large dialogue paragraphs, a "counted" paragraph needs to have regular, non-dialogue text within it. So I only counted the ones that included your white text or were completely white text. Even if a dialogue paragraph has one or two non-dialogue words, it is counted. Not every mod grades this way, though. Some may not count that at all.