The Art of War [JT | Minamoto Tsuyoshi]

[Munemasa Iroka]

The Third Division was one of the Gotei 13 divisions known for its prowess in battle, alongside the 10th and 11th Divisions. It was to be expected, seeing as its duties revolved around first response. While the 11th was the spear of Seireitei, being at the fore of any Gotei 13 military endeavors, the 10th was Seireitei's shield, serving as the major line of defense in case of an invasion. But the third's duty involved being the first in non-Soul Society territories, which meant that members of the Sanbantai had to be proactive, resourceful, and heavy duty kickers of butt.

The Fourth Division, in contrast, was one full of healers, often considered feeble, due to their lack of predilection to combat, either in skill or in zanpakutou ability. For this reason, its members had often been bullied and scorned by members of more combat-worthy divisions. This had created some form of long-standing resentment among some older members of the Division. Fortunately, it seemed that of recent, the Captain Commander was trying to focus on the establishment of a Yonbantai which had its own claws, so that when its members were cornered on the battlefield, they would not just lie down and die. Still, there did seem to be a number of people who felt things should just be the way they had been, and many Yonbantai Shinigami never tried to improve their battle readiness.

Not so the Shinigami known as Munemasa Iroka. For her, becoming better was one of the tings she was motivated by. If all she ended up being was cannon fodder when she someday found herself in battle, that would be the end of all her dreams and aspirations. If she wanted to become better, she had to become stronger. And in this universe wherein the strong preyed on the weak, she could not afford to remain weak indefinitely. She needed to sharpen her own fangs and claws. She needed to get to a point where she would be seen as a useful member of Seireitei, not just some trash to be bullied and run over by the stronger ones.

There was also the issue of her wanting to rise within the ranks of her division, and bring a change to a squad that currently had the worst reputation in all of Seireitei. It was shameful, but a fact, nonetheless: aside those Shinigami who considered everyone a comrade, nobody really considered 4th Division Shinigami as really useful. As a matter of fact, people on missions often saw them as more of a liability than an asset to improve team survivability. It seemed as though the practice was simply to throw any Shinigami who displayed incompetence but managed to pass the Academy exams into Division 4. This was something that had to change. And since there seemed to be no one strong enough, nor willing enough to do this, Iroka made it a personal task.

To improve, it would be best to turn to those who were familiar with the ways of combat. By considering the matter, Iroka surmised that there were two options she had. The first would be to go back to the Academy, but it was an unpalatable option, because Iroka did not want to feel as though she had been wasting her time all the while she had been in the Shin'ou Academy. The second was to seek out Shinigami from the divisions most familiar with combat. And while that seemed to be the best choice for her to make, it also did not seem appealing to Iroka, because it came with a host of difficulties.

Thanks to the things she had heard, and the actions of some of the Shinigami from the 3rd and 11th, she had initially been just as resentful as her squad mates of the Shinigami from those divisions. But having unwittingly met the captain of the Third at a party, and discovering that he didn't seem to be something of a bully, Iroka had decided to attempt to reach out to him, to see if he would have time to help her improve. There was also the issue that, loth as she was to admit it, she did not know any Shinigami from the combat-oriented divisions by name, not to talk of being on friendly terms with them. So Minamoto-taichou would have to suffice. She did hope he wouldn't ask her to go to the Academy, though; she'd heard that he had been known to train other Shinigami when and where he could.

Iroka had also heard that this fellow was known as Seireitei no Oni, the Demon of Seireitei. She had been regaled with stories about the man, both real and fictional, but sadly, all those stories, thanks to the fact that they came from the mouths of minds heavily biased against the Sanbantai, only seemed to accentuate the brutality of the Captain. By the end of the story sessions, Iroka was convinced that there were only two outcomes to her meeting the Sanbantai Captain: he would train her, or he would have her executed. Still, she had reached a point where she was willing to brave death in order to get stronger.

Perhaps she would have been fine with just being a little Yonbantai grunt and growing at her own pace, but an experience in Karakura Town had affected her greatly. She had come across a hollow and a modsoul, and had initially attempted to save the modsoul from the hollow, only to realize that the hollow had no intent on attacking either of them. And she had realized that it would probably have not ended well for her, if not for the fact that the hollow surprisingly seemed to be quite pacifistic. Although there had been no physical trauma nor injury to her, she had realized how little use she had on the battlefield. All she had been able to do was try to bluff that she was dangerous, and she couldn't even do that. She looked anything but threatening.

Almost visibly trembling, but driven by a force of will which many had no idea that she had, Iroka marched into the Sanbantai headquarters, ignoring any calls or comments made towards her. Not because she wanted to ignore them, but because she was simply focusing too seriously on the task at hand that she did not realize that there were people there, or that they were saying anything to, or about, her for that matter. Marching through the Division's grounds, she made her way like a guided projectile straight to the Captain's office, and in her nervous apprehension (and perhaps the fact that Iroka had always been considered somewhat zany), forgot to even knock.

Placing a hand on the screen, she slid the door to the Captain's office open with as much force as she could muster. As door frame clacked loudly against the wall, a great silence fell over the spectators. A Vice-Captain normally didn't even have the effrontery to approach a Captain in such a manner. This girl wasn't even seated; an unseated grunt, and of the Fourth Division, no less. This was an insult upon an injury. Iroka,for her part, not even realizing the great hush that had fallen, stepped into the office, and dropped to her knees, bowing so that her forehead touched the floor. "Tsuyoshi-sama!" she practically yelled, "I need your help!"

Hadn't Tsuyoshi mentioned at the party that he didn't like titles? Well, Iroka couldn't help it. He was much more powerful than she was, not to mention the heavy gap with which he outranked her. It was noteworthy, though, that she used his first name, which would normally be informal and thus disrespectful, even though she affixed the highly respectful title 'sama' to his name. Officially, most Shinigami would address him as Minamoto-taichou, or Minamoto-sama. Surnames, however, were almost irrelevant to Iroka. In any case, having said what had been on the forefront of her mind, the bowing Shinigami relaxed a bit, and suddenly noticed the silence. Something had gone wrong. He was going to kill her... or something. Without raising her forehead from the ground, she began to tremble, as she awaited what would come next.

Tsuyoshi Minamoto

[Tsuyoshi Minamoto]

Sanbantai’s squadhouse was abuzz with activity, though most of it was laborious. The mixer had left quite a bit on Sanbantai’s to-do list: the training grounds had to be cleared and the furniture that was appropriated for the party had to be either replaced or returned; there were broken pieces of furniture scattered both inside and outside of the squadhouse and the gate that Raion had destroyed needed to be reported to, funded for, and replaced by the appropriate divisions; the bill for various food and drinkstuffs needed to be addressed; and all around this, paperwork needed to be done and reports still needed to be filed for those days when activity had met an understandable lull. One would have thought that Tsuyoshi would have been responsible for spear-heading this particular list, but he had instead passed it off to a number of other Shinigami in his division.

In fact, that is what Sanjuro was trying to address. The young, unseated officer was standing outside of Tsuyoshi’s office trying to drum up the courage to enter Tsuyoshi’s office when he heard shouting from down the hall. He looked over to spot a number of Shinigami trying, and failing, to wave down another Shinigami who seemed to be nervously marching down the hall and directly to Tsuyoshi’s office. He opened his mouth to speak, only to visibly have something resembling a panic attack when Iroka stepped through the doors. He stood, dumbfounded, as he watched Iroka fall to her knees. From down the hall came several other Shinigami who froze upon spotting the open door. While the rest of them quickly retreated down the hall, Sanjuro was stuck already in plain sight, frozen.

In front of the two of them, Tsuyoshi was resting, or seemingly asleep. He had his feet propped up on the desk in front of him, his hands behind his head, and his eyes closed. Hanging from the chair behind him was his haori. The rest of his body was covered in his normal sleeveless attire - a modified shihakusho and some martial pants that covered each of his legs individually. As soon as Iroka made her presence known, there was a deft and heavy silence in the air. Sanjuro held his breath and, for a second or two, there was nothing. Tsuyoshi shifted in his seat, but did not open his eyes or speak.

“T-Taicho? Th-There’s some-”
“I heard her, eh?” Tsuyoshi’s response abruptly cut off Sanjuro’s as he shifted in his seat. He opened his eyes, looking down to Iroka with a grin on his face. He shifted his weight from the table, planting his feet on the ground and standing upright with a deliberate posture. He walked over towards where Iroka was kneeling, crouching down and resting his forearms on his bent knees, artfully balancing himself in front of her. “Stand up, eh? I don’t tolerate groveling in my Squadhouse.” He gestured for her to stand and, provided she did, raised himself to a stand in front of her.

“Now then, what can I help you with, Iroka-San?” It was clear enough from his voice that he had no intention of harming the Shinigami, but that didn’t change the fact that Sanjuro was still holding his breath ever since Tsuyoshi cut him off.

[Munemasa Iroka]

From her bowing position on the floor of the Sanbantai building headquarters, Iroka thought she could sense the Captain of that division bestir himself. Wait, hadn't he been asleep when she had entered his office? Which meant she had most likely disturbed him from a peaceful sleep. Yeah, she was in deep trouble, that was certain. The silence in the office was almost as oppressive as a powerful enemy exerting their pressure on a much weaker opponent.

And then someone spoke. Iroka was now even more shocked, seeing as the voice she heard was very likely not Tsuyoshi's. Had this person been standing here all along? It seemed that, in her nervousness and laser-focused desire to address the Third Division Captain, she had taken no note of anyone else. Until now. It was only now that the bowing Shinigami realized that she might have heard people shouting... but had that been at her? It had all just seemed like background noise.

The voice of the Captain cut off the unknown speaker. From the vibrations she could pick up from the wooden floor, it seemed Tsuyoshi had gotten his feet off the table and risen. With her eyes averted to the ground, she could not see the man's smile, but whatever punishment would come, hopefully it would be quick. And then Iroka heard him speak, and his voice was much closer now. And he didn't seem interested in killing her or something. Her head rose, uncertain chartreuse eyes meeting darker green, as she saw him gesture for her to rise. It was a bit odd to Iroka that Tsuyoshi didn't seem to be fine with groveling; Kimyou seemed to be all for it.

"I--" Iroka started, then paused, her nervousness getting the better of her. But then she, with a great deal of effort, managed to push the worry away, and she announced, "I want to learn how to fight, Tsuyoshi-sama!" There was a pause again, as the orange-haired Shinigami suspected she had not given proper explanation, and yet, she wasn't sure she was expected to keep talking. "It's not like I can't fight," she began in a rather subdued, almost inaudible voice, "but what's the point of being able to do the moves, when you can't win a fight? And if fighting is supposed to be for the aim of garnering victory in physical contest, the surely I'm doing something wrong, because I'm ineffective. And if I'm ineffective, then it's a fault in my training... and if that is so...."

By now, the girl had seemingly forgotten that she was in the presence of the Sanbantai Taichou, and was seemingly in a world of her own. With her eyebrows creased in deep thought, she painstakingly ran through all the probable reasons she was not a good fighter. It was one of her quirks, just going off by herself without realizing she had forgotten that she had been conversing with someone. This usually happened when there was something which weighed heavily on her mind, and it was normal for Iroka to handle her jumbled thoughts this way. But of course, normal people did not behave this way.

Tsuyoshi Minamoto

[Tsuyoshi Minamoto]

Tsuyoshi folded his arms in front of his stomach and listened to Iroka’s response. She said she wanted to learn how to fight, but Tsuyoshi knew better than to interrupt. There was more to it than that. He stood, patiently, and watched her for a few moments in silence until she continued. Despite Iroka’s painfully timid presentation, Tsuyoshi seemed to be attentively listening. He shifted his weight slightly when she mentioned winning a fight. He could already tell that he was going to have his work cut out for him if she really intended to learn how to fight well enough to actually win a fight, much less do so consistently. Part of his skepticism came from her squad choice - generally, the Shinigami of Yonbantai were not known for their combat prowess, outside of very few exceptions, and Iroka didn’t immediately strike Tsuyoshi as one of them.

He continued listening as she elaborated on her stance, and even for some time after she had begun trailing off in her own mind. He turned his attention over to Sanjuro, who was very desperately still holding his breath, as if looking to him for an answer, receiving only what first might have looked like panicked attempts to continue holding his breath, but obviously that couldn’t have been it. It looked more like a shrug and a quiet ‘I don’t know’. He looked back to Iroka, reaching out and poking her once in the forehead as she continued to ramble, waiting to see if the rambling would cease. If she continued, he followed up with a second poke.

Once he’d gotten her attention, he returned his arms to their folded position, looking her once over. Unlike at the mixer, however, his gaze seemed to be one of intentful evaluation, likely of her physical capabilities as a fighter, though he knew that a visual observation only did so much. Still, at her level, it was unlikely that she was going to surprise him any time soon. “Hmm. Walk with me.” He gestured for her to follow and then began walking out of the room. Sanjuro stared at the two of them as they walked by, flailing his arms helplessly, and even going so far as to make grabbing motions at his throat, as if struggling. Tsuyoshi and Iroka had taken several paces down the hall when he heard his Captain shout after him. “Orre! Sanjuro! Hurry up! No one told you to hold your breath, eh?” Sanjuro took in a deep gasp and immediately looked defeated, his body resigned to following behind the two of them. The last thing the man wanted to do was get caught up in a training session, but this is what he got for being so reluctant to talk to Tsuyoshi in the first place.

As Iroka and Tsuyoshi walked in time (with Sanjuro some ways behind them), the relatively young Captain began peppering the girl with questions. Again, unlike the mixer, these questions were intentful, though he kept his tone light. “Fighting for fun is for the purpose of winning a… what did you call it, eh? A physical contest? Yeah, that’s one way to put it - but something tells me that you didn’t come to ask me how to win fights for fun.” As they walked, Tsuyoshi fidgeted with the bracelets on his left forearm, before resting his non-dominant hand into the pocket of his shihakusho. “It sounds a lot more to me like you want to know how to fight with a purpose.”

They rounded the corner, making their way outside and onto the grass. While the grounds had been covered in various bits of trimmings and furniture only days prior, they were now returned to their original function - Shinigami of various skill levels were training and honing their skills either against equipment or each other, generally under someone’s direct supervision. The only ones who didn’t seem to be directly supervised were of noticeably better ability and higher rank than the rank-and-file Shinigami. “Now, I can’t decide for you what that purpose is. For some Shinigami, it’s for the purpose of vanquishing Hollow. For some, it’s to protect their friends and family. Some people do it for duty, and some people do it for… well…” He trailed off. “Some Shinigami are only Shinigami because it’d be dangerous to let them too far off their leash, eh?” He cast a glance back, grinning.

They continued past - occasionally, other Shinigami paused their training and greeted the trio, though Tsuyoshi merely waved them back to their training with little more than an ‘Ohayou’ in response, if that. Tsuyoshi continued until they were walking off of the grass and onto a relatively large circle of flattened, grassless dirt. Sitting towards the eastern end of the mound was a series of rocks, positioned almost as if providing a high vantage point for supervision from above. Tsuyoshi climbed the rocks effortlessly, sitting himself down at the edge. Once he found himself comfortable above the two of them, he gestured vaguely towards the circle. Sanjuro, without needing further instruction, took a space on one end. “I’ll teach you, eh? But before I do, I need to know - what is your purpose for fighting, Iroka?”

[Munemasa Iroka]

Iroka was still in the process of rambling, when she thought she felt something, but she was not sure what it was, and the processing of her thoughts needed immediate attention. It was when she felt a finger gently but firmly poke her forehead again, that she realized that Tsuyoshi had been trying to get her attention. There was a pause, as her face quickly turned a deep shade of red. "Gomen nasai, Tsuyoshi-sama!" she exclaimed with a quick bow. He hadn't been offended, had he? If he was trying to make her stop, she was being offensive, wasn't she?

Well, the carrot-haired girl could not figure out if he had been annoyed. He didn't look it, though. He wasn't saying anything, in any case, simply watching her. Then he asked her to follow him. Was he going to help? Was she going to be punished? It was probably the latter, as she had probably broken so many rules of protocol coming here. She wanted to protest her innocence, but decided to keep quiet. Kimyou, her parent, seemed to hate it when people tried to beg or defend themselves. Best to keep quiet for now.

Her eyes momentarily fixed on the other Shinigami in the room, wondering what he was doing. Were his frantic gestures an indication of what she was about to be subjected to? Iroka suddenly realized her had had been rising to attempt to poke Sanjuro's forehead, the same way his captain had poked hers. But then she caught herself and hurried on. Best not to get into further trouble. She was already probably in the frying pan, as it were. Pushing herself into the fire would only be an avoidable mishap.

Tsuyoshi called after Sanjuro to follow them as well. "Now I'm thankful I didn't poke him!" Iroka thought, a mixture of relief and yet mild alarm flooding her brain. Sanjuro was probably being brought along to oversee the punishment. Or something. She had no idea why he was coming along, but she wasn't going to ask. She had already done a lot of talking already. She needed to learn to keep her mouth shut.

Tsuyoshi commented that it seemed she wanted to learn how to fight with a purpose. Wasn't winning the purpose of every fight? she wondered. As the captain explained what he meant by fighting with a purpose, Iroka began to understand, but in her mind, it all still seemed to be the same thing. Her purpose for fighting was to win, because it was rare for anyone to get into a fight with the intention and desire to lose. There were always exceptions, but she was sure that most folks went into battle, hoping to win.

And that was when the Sanbantai Captain asked her a question. "Am I not supposed to be shutting up here?" she silently asked herself, her glance moving from the captain to his subordinate, trying to see if there was anything she could read, anything she was missing in this engagement. So far, she could not determine such. Keeping quiet would probably only offend the captain more (yes, she still thought he was offended). So it would be best to answer as honestly as she could.

She also noticed that they had come to a circular patch of dirt, with some rocks at the far end. Tsuyoshi had positioned himself atop one of the rocks, and Sanjuro had gone to the end of the patch and was facing her. As a matter of fact, both 3rd Division Shinigami were facing her. She gulped, then replied, "Um... to win?" Okay, that was probably not the right answer. "To be honest, Tsuyoshi-sama, I want to be trustworthy. I want to be the kind of person that when I arrive, people can set their hearts at ease knowing I'm there. Knowing that I'll protect them, or at least help them to overcome their current scrape."

There was a soft sigh, before she continued. "In my present condition, I'm just a pushover." She remembered some of her interactions with bullies who had come to the 4th headquarters. "Sometimes in the Yonbantai hospital, there is need to have peace and quiet, and some of the rowdier folks will have none of it. They never listen to me, maybe except the time I kicked someone between the legs...." That had worked, then. But Iroka preferred to be strong enough to simply be able to speak, and others would listen. Being battle-worthy did confer such a status.

"I just want to be strong, Tsuyoshi-sama."


Tsuyoshi Minamoto

[Tsuyoshi Minamoto]

Tsuyoshi listened quietly as she answered his question. Her first answer was… poorly thought out, but the added silence clearly gave Iroka the room that she needed to think about her actual answer. He kept his eyes on her as she spoke, watching her movements and her facial features as she gave her answer. Her mention of kicking someone between the legs even managed to elicit a chuckle out of the man, who shifted his weight backwards and re-adjusted himself on top of the rock face. He nodded over towards Sanjuro. “Orre! Sanjuro!” The man at the other edge of the circle suddenly snapped his eyes towards Tsuyoshi after having been watching Iroka while she spoke.

“Y-Yes, Taicho?”
“What do you think?”

Sanjuro stood there, quiet for a few seconds, staring at Tsuyoshi. “I’m.. sorry, Taicho?” Tsuyoshi didn’t answer, but only nodded in Iroka’s direction. That was enough for Sanjuro. He turned his eyes over to Iroka and murmured something under his breath, before looking back to Tsuyoshi. “She’s bold… and a little reckless, but she clearly has drive. She has a reason for fighting and, unlike most of the Shinigami from Yonbontai, she’s actively seeking out a teacher. I think that’s enough.” He nodded once, looking back over to Iroka. From his perch, Tsuyoshi grinned and turned his eyes over to Iroka.

“Y’hear that, Iroka? Sanjuro here thinks that’s a good enough reason, eh?” He turned his eyes back to Sanjuro, raising his voice again. “Your manners, Sanjuro.”

“I - “ Sanjuro began, clearly anxious and contemplative. He turned his attention up to Tsuyoshi and then to Iroka. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words immediately came out. He turned his eyes to Tsuyoshi again, who only watched him from above, sending him a steely gaze with a grin to match. He turned his eyes back to Iroka and bowed once. “I am Hiroshi, Sanjuro, Unseated of Sanbantai. And…” Sanjuro’s eyes traveled over to Tsuyoshi’s and then back to Iroka. “... and I will be your sparring partner for this lesson.”

He cast a glance up and towards Tsuyoshi, who nodded once and then looked back to Iroka. “That’s enough for me, too, I think. Wanting to be strong is a pretty vague answer, but I think you’ll find your reason for fighting before too long, whether it’s to make sure your squadmates won’t die on your watch, or so you won’t disappoint someone. Either way, this is a better start than most.” He gestured towards Sanjuro. “Sanjuro will be your sparring partner - consider this an evaluation. Normally, I would offer to get down there in the ring with you personally.“ He paused, before reaching up to his cheek and tapping it once.

The symbol for Sanbantai began to appear, glowing a dull green and being surrounded by a Kanji, as well as being encapsulated in a glowing white ring - an obvious seal. “But, you probably can’t get in the ring with me without dying, even with this seal on. So you’ll train with my Shinigami until you can face me while I’m sealed, understand?” After a few seconds of dropping his hand, the entire seal slowly faded away from view again. He gestured in the direction of the circle. “Take your place in the ring, eh? You’ll have the first move and you’ll both fight until I stop you. Sanjuro.” He looked to Sanjuro, grinning broadly, which sent shivers down Sanjuro’s spine. “No Kido, y’understand? You need to work on your Zanjutsu and Hakuda.”

Sanjuro scowled, looking away, before looking back to Tsuyoshi and nodding once. “Yes, Taicho.” Sanjuro circled partway around the dirt ring, standing diagonally from where Tsuyoshi was sitting. He lowered his hand to his Zanpakuto hilt and adjusted his center of gravity. Apparently, he was going to wait for Iroka to act, as instructed.

"On you, Iroka. Show me how strong you are, so that I can see how much stronger you can become."

[Munemasa Iroka]

The Sanbantai captain asked his fellow squad member to give an evaluation of what Iroka had said. This was her problem with official settings. Everything was an exam. Or was that school? Iroka wasn't sure she could remember. Tsuyoshi's subordinate had some interesting adjectives to define Iroka with. Bold and reckless. She covered her face with her hands, as she listened to him speak. The end didn't sound so bad, though, but how could she be certain, seeing as she often missed out on intended messages in social interactions? But the clause 'I think that's enough' was promising... depending on what 'enough' meant. Enough to earn her a jail term, perhaps?

At the sound of Tsuyoshi's voice calling out to her, Iroka moved her fingers, so that one of her eyes could peek up at the captain seated high on his lofty perch. He was asking Sanjuro to introduce himself, which after some hesitation, the reason for which Iroka had no idea, the subordinate did. "Pleasure to meet you, Sanjuro-dono," she replied pleasantly, allowing her hands to drop from her face while she gave a standing bow. "Please be nice to me." She really meant that last part, though he didn't seem like a nasty person.

Tsuyoshi stated that he would have personally wanted to do the sparring with her, but he was on too high a level for Iroka, even with his powers sealed. As the orange haired girl's eyes fixed on him, she noted the seal appear on his cheek, indicating that his powers weren't at maximum. And even then, she couldn't hope to so much as face him without the real threat of her certain death. It was such an incredible amount of power. At this point, Iroka felt grateful she wouldn't be throwing hands with the captain at this point in time. Still, he called this an evaluation. Which meant that he was going to be scoring her performance. She would try her best, then.

"I understand, Tsuyoshi-sama!" the Yonbantai Shinigami replied, nodding vigorously, before turning to face Sanjuro once more, as she listened to the rules being laid out by the captain. Sanjuro was asked not to use kidou, so she decided she wouldn't use it as well. As Tsuyoshi had said, this was supposed to be a training of Zanjutsu and Hakuda. It seemed fine enough to her. She knew very little about Zanjutsu, but that wouldn't be a problem. Her parent had always told her that the disadvantage of Zanjutsu lay in its practitioner being disarmed. When your whole body was a weapon, that issue of needing to wield a weapon was eliminated.

Iroka had been told she would have the first play, just like a game of shougi. As Sanjuro moved into position, Iroka did so as well, so that she was also positioned diagonally from Tsuyoshi's position. Then she slid her arms out of her shihakushou's sleeves, and shrugged it from her torso, so that the upper part of her robe hung around her waist, held in place by her waist sash. This was what she often did, when about to fight. "Onegai shimasu, Gote-kun!" the 4th Division Shinigami said to Sanjuro, greeting him as though this was a shougi game, and referring to him as the second player (the equivalent of 'black' in chess), since she was to move first.

What could she say about Sanjuro, just by observation? Firstly, he seemed to be a Zanjutsu person, seeing the way he positioned himself at the ready, with his hand on the hilt of his weapon. There was another thing. Even though he could have drawn his sword, he did not yet, which meant that he could probably use his blade with some iaijutsu skill. As his sword was not yet drawn, this posed its own advantages and disadvantages. But while keeping these in mind, Iroka was minded not to let these observations color her judgment considerably. She needed to see him in action before she made solid conclusions.

The Shinigami squatted and picked a stone. Rising to her feet, she threw it at Sanjuro. Her physical strength was on the lower end, and she didn't even throw it with the intention of being an attack or causing injury, so there was no way the projectile would even hurt him if it hit. Still, Iroka wanted to use that as a means of gauging his reaction time: how soon he moved in response to the flying stone. Also, there was the less obvious intention of simply keeping him guessing. Iroka was the kind of person who believed that if your opponent knew what you were going to do, you had lost.

She squatted and picked another stone, and then was gone, using Shunpo to quickly close the distance between the two of them. Instead of appearing in front of him, she stopped behind him to his left. That way, if he drew his sword, it would be drawn to his right, away from her, or he would have to turn to draw it. Both scenarios meant he would spend extra time than if he had been drawing the weapon on an opponent before him, or on his right. Of course, when she stopped, she was backing him as well. But she spun to face him, lashing out with her right leg in a spinning hook kick aimed at his head. She did not, however, power the kick with reiatsu, as was the Shintenken way, meaning that while it was a well-executed and graceful kick, it would not be so difficult to block. This was to evaluate his reflexes again, and how much physically stronger he was than her.


Tsuyoshi Minamoto

[Tsuyoshi Minamoto]

Sanjuro kept his eyes on Iroka, digging his feet into the stamped dirt and resting his hand clasped over his Zanpakuto’s hilt with his thumb resting on the edge of the tsuba, ready to release it from its sheath at a moment’s notice. He was a capable combatant, but as Tsuyoshi had noted, he was not primarily a melee combatant. Still, given that Iroka was an unseated Shinigami and that he was actively working towards earning a seat himself, it was likely that he was at least comparable to Iroka in close quarters, if not with a slight advantage. He stepped carefully as Iroka did, tensing briefly once she slid her arms free from her shihakusho. It was clear that he was a bit jumpy at the thought of conflict, but not so undisciplined as to draw his sword irrationally.

His eyes kept trained on Iroka when she bent down to pick up a stone, quirking a brow. As soon as her arm flung the stone out towards him, he took an immediate step to his right, angling his body to try and keep his right shoulder angled towards Iroka. The expediency of his movements did a poor job of hiding their stilted and almost anxious nature - it was possible that it was a lack of confidence in the face of an unknown foe, but it was equally possible that sparring in front of Tsuyoshi carried a different kind of weight than sparring under some others.

Tsuyoshi watched the both of them from his seat atop the rock, adjusting his weight to make himself comfortable. Watching the two of them act was almost like watching two juvenile fighters in slow motion, but that couldn’t exactly be helped. Centuries of combat and practice had drilled intuition and memory not only into Tsuyoshi’s brain, but also his muscles. His eyes bounced between the two of them and, though he seemed wholly disinterested in Sanjuro - especially given that he was already fairly familiar with the man’s shortcomings - he was uniquely interested in Iroka. It seemed like she was testing the waters of combat before deciding to take the plunge - a tactic that Tsuyoshi was fond of, albeit likely for different reasons. She was smart - that was good, she was going to have to be to make up for her inherent weaknesses.

”Tch, what do you think you’re-” Sanjuro began to speak as Iroka ducked down for another rock and was immediately cut off by her movement. She wasn’t easy to follow, per se, but Sanjuro felt himself straining to wheel around into a better position once she’d come out of her shunpo. His decision not to shunpo in kind left him out of position and unable to meaningfully draw his Zanpakuto in response to her positioning. He lurched forwards once he realized the direction she had come to a stop. He raised his left arm, bent up to his head, and soaked the brunt of Iroka’s spinning hook kick. The force of Iroka’s kick wasn’t enough to unsteady him, but it was enough for him to feel it.

He rolled his body to the right, attempting to turn into a sharp side-kick aimed for Iroka’s over-exposed knee and immediately following it with a higher side-kick aimed for Iroka’s flank, pushing backwards off of his anchored leg in order to give himself some space to work with.

Tsuyoshi tilted his head slightly at Sanjuro’s maneuver. Altogether, he looked neither impressed or displeased by either of the two of them. Sanjuro’s decision to counter and immediately make space was questionable given Sanjuro’s physical aptitude over Iroka, but he recognized immediately that the man’s inexperience in close quarters left him uncertain. That kind of mistake was likely to be lethal in real combat, but here it would be an important lesson if Iroka were to capitalize on it.

[Munemasa Iroka]

Sanjuro did not seem particularly pleased with Iroka's strategy of lobbing rocks at him, which was what Iroka was hoping would happen. If one was fixated enough on her actions to take umbrage at them, there was some hope that they might be taken by surprise when the next thing which was expected of her to do did not happen. Also, judging by the way 'Gote-kun' had made sure to keep his body facing the Yonbantai Shinigami at an angle, even when responding to her first thrown rock, Iroka suspected he was relying on making the drawing slash as his opening move. As she could only go on speculations for now, she supposed he might favor his sword to his fists. But she would have to make certain.

Judging by the way Sanjuro's sentence was clipped mid-speech, Iroka was sure that she had perhaps a bit of the advantage of surprise. Perhaps in a more life-and-death battle, she would have started by all-out looking to deal some heavy damage. But with her kick, which had been blocked by the hand which had previously been on Sanjuro's scabbard, Iroka could make a rough estimate of the lower limits of his strength. Her kick, though landing square on him, had not managed to rock him, so Sanjuro was noticeably stronger than she was. The next thing was to see how fast his attack speed was.

And as Iroka had expected, the attack came, in form of a kick. Although she had been expecting a sword maneuver, Iroka had been prepared for a possible upset to her expectations, as she didn't expect Gote-kun to be able to draw his weapon with a single hand. As such, she saw the kick coming, but dodging it was going to be a little bit tricky, seeing as she was still recovering from her kick. Granted, he had good movement speed and reflexes then, at least as far as his present rank was concerned. And she would need to come up with something pretty fast, as the knee was quite the delicate spot to target in a fight.

Fortunately for Iroka, as soon as she had kicked, she had already been righting her position, when the retaliatory kick, aimed at her knee, came. So she twisted her body such that if Sanjuro's kick hit home, it would hit the back of her knee and cause it to fold naturally. But that would still hurt like hell, and would compromise the strength of her knee, so this maneuver was only to mitigate harm if the kick fully landed on target. It was also quite likely that blocking his kick would be an unpleasant experience for her, so she opted for a more flexible defense.

As Iroka was dropping her arms, due to bending her knees in order to increase her center of gravity and provide a less critical target to be struck, she took advantage of the motion of her arms to attempt to deflect the approaching leg. She was not able to save herself fully, but at least Sanjuro's kick became more of a glancing blow than a direct hit. Still, as she had expected it to, it hurt a great deal. There was also the problem of the Sanbantai Shinigami almost immediately afterwards launching another attack in form of another kick, this one aimed higher. Again, dodging it was out of the question, and this time, it was unlikely deflecting would be viable.

Bending her elbow tightly and tucking her arm to the side being attacked, Iroka registered a split second before the kick landed. The force of Sanjuro's kick almost folded her small body around his foot, but her arm had taken the brunt, as opposed to her side, which would have been more devastating. Still, the kick had moved her and sent her slightly reeling, at which moment her opponent sought to create distance between himself and the orange-haired girl. Why he did that, Iroka couldn't guess, but she was sure that figuring out why your enemy made a maneuver when you could take advantage of it was vain.

Iroka knew that if she took the time to stabilize herself and take a fighting stance, Sanjuro would likely have given her enough space to compose himself. That was not acceptable. He had managed to block her kick and turn the tables on her, but his attempt to retreat meant she could get back on the offensive, if she played her cards right. Still, attacking when he was just a bit out of range and she was almost backing him would be difficult to pull off... except that if anyone knew how Iroka fought, her defining adjective was 'unpredictable'. If Sanjuro was not expecting an attack, then even if he blocked her next one, she could still gain an advantage.

Allowing herself to fully back him, but wasting no time, Iroka launched herself from the ground, up and backwards into the air, turning herself into a human missile, with the area of attack being her backside. If Sanjuro was not prepared, he would be getting a face full of rump, and while such an attack was not certainly among the most dangerous in terms of damage output, the advantage of this maneuver was that she was throwing her whole weight against him, and if she managed to connect, even though he was bigger than she was, she could unbalance Sanjuro a bit, especially as he was still in the process of moving to make space. If she missed, well, she would simply whirl round and take a ready stance. If she managed to score a hit, however, as soon as her feet touched the ground, she would aim a back kick at his solar plexor, this time energizing her kick with reiatsu.


Tsuyoshi Minamoto

[Tsuyoshi Minamoto]

Sanjuro’s first kick landed slightly off-target, but it was a deft kick to be sure. It wasn’t clear as to whether or not Sanjuro had more strength to him, but even being surprised he managed to land a jarring, albeit glancing blow to the back of Iroka’s leg. In the midst of his follow through, and his immediate movements afterwards, Sanjuro struggled to find his balance again as he moved to make space for himself. His attempt to regain his composure and stabilize his own fighting stance meant that Iroka had a window, albeit small, to capitalize on his abrupt retreat from the flow of combat.

Tsuyoshi quirked an eyebrow as he watched the exchange, his eyes darting from Sanjuro immediately to Iroka as she sprung into action, throwing her entire body backwards. It was a dangerous gamble, but one that he already knew was going to pay off. Sanjuro was focused on trying to maintain his own neutral position, rather than fighting with the natural ebb and flow of combat, and he was about to get punished for it.

Just as Sanjuro’s feet touched back on the ground and he began to lower his center of gravity, his eyes widened and he let out a grunt upon feeling the full force of Iroka’s body plow into him. Had he been fully prepared, the difference in their stature would hardly have moved him, but the fact that he had most of his weight still transferring backwards meant that Iroka was unable to unseat him just enough to open up his guard and land a blow that, had Iroka been a bit stronger and Sanjuro a bit weaker, would have ended the bout then and there. Sanjuro was flung backwards, first skidding across the ground as he folded over before stumbling into a wild backpedal. He found his bearings on the dirt, grunting loudly and halting his backwards momentum. It was obvious, despite his ability to recover, that he had taken a rough hit. His legs shook slightly as he balanced himself, his body twisting to reach for his Zanpakuto.

Tsuyoshi shifted his weight, watching the two of them a bit more closely now. Sanjuro was being actively punished for leaving too many windows of recovery for Iroka to push into, and Iroka was making risky, but worthwhile gambles in the middle of combat. There were things to be learned by both of , but neither one had run out of steam to fight yet. From what he had gathered so far, he didn’t expect Iroka’s onslaught to push Sanjuro back much further, provided Sanjuro could gather himself long enough to actually start fighting. Then again, Sanjuro was a bit of a pushover, and if Iroka’s stamina held out she might be able to box him into a corner. A solid blow from Sanjuro could reverse the momentum entirely, and Iroka needed to continue to land clean strikes like her last one if she wanted to break through his guard.

[Munemasa Iroka]

While Iroka naturally wasn't the sort to needlessly enjoy fighting, there was, she had to admit, a sense of accomplishment at having landed a clean hit. Or two, if one would count the flying backside shot as a hit, even though Iroka was well aware that such an attack would have been as harmful as a light shove. But it was the kick that had rocked him, and sent him flying, forcing him to change position. Still, for all that, Sanjuro had not been taken out. Just went to show, Iroka thought, how trashy her striking game was.

In all honesty, Iroka had never expected her attack to land, but it had happened. A part of the orange-haired Shinigami simply assumed this to be due to a mixture of novice luck, and the fact that Sanjuro himself was not a battle-hardened veteran. It was in her nature to downplay her achievements, seeing as the earliest times of her life had been spent being berated for being defective. But even if she was defective, she had to prove herself at least to be bare-minimum useful. And in this case, that would mean winning this fight, or at least putting on a good show for Tsuyoshi. 

Iroka had wanted to look at him, and see if, and how, he was evaluating her. But despite her curiosity, she dared not. Because even though she had said nothing to this effect, from the moment the captain had ordered her to spar with Sanjuro, she had already assumed the other unseated officer to be a better fighter than she was, even if no experience of any kind had proved this. But he was a Sanbantai squadie; that alone was enough reason for the carrot top to come to conclusions. The 4th, after all, was the Shin'ou Academy's dumping ground. And as such, since she considered herself faced with a superior combatant, she could not allow herself to be distracted.

Iroka was not really sure why her opponent seemed to be fighting from a relatively passive tactic point, but it was certainly not because he didn't want to hit a girl. His two kicks from back then had proven so. Maybe he was trying to be a prudent fighter. If he was, Iroka wasn't sure that was working for him, but she was not going to tell him so, maybe until after the spar was over. In any case, it seemed that for now, the best strategy she could utilize would be to try to press him with offense. If she decided to play defensive, she knew he was stronger, and faster, than she was, and as such, trying to counter him would be a lot less effective than if the roles were reversed.

While awfully slow in the eyes of someone as powerful as the 3rd Division Captain, to someone on her level, it would seem that Iroka had not even bothered to pause after her kick had landed. Even though she did not act as such, her brain was quite capable of high-speed processing, and between the time Iroka had body-missiled Sanjuro and the time her kick landed, she had already decided on maintaining the offensive. For some reason, Iroka suspected that if she allowed the Sanbantai Shinigami to recover, she would find herself in something of a pinch. It would be best to try to not let that happen. In the event that Sanjuro decided to take the offensive, she would figure out something then, she supposed.

First, she would need to cover the distance between herself and her opponent. Both stepping backwards and whirling round at the same time, she saw he was going for his weapon again. That was another thing the 4th Division girl did not want to have to deal with. Her parent, Kimyou, had told her that Hakuda was more preferable to learn, as a Shinigami who focused on Zanjutsu could have themselves disarmed, and thus at an advantage. While Hakuda eliminated the problem of getting disarmed, there weren't too many people who could easily block a descending katana with their forearm. Unless some other techniques were involved, as Shinigami did not have the hierro of Arrancar.

Iroka simply lunged for Sanjuro's hand, hoping to grab it before he drew his sword. If she succeeded, she would lean past him, with the intention of using much of her body weight to prevent, or at least delay him from drawing his weapon. But that wasn't the major reason she would attempt this seemingly odd technique. Leaning on the arm she held, she would snap back her right leg to would whip upwards, bending at the knee so that her heel would connect with Sanjuro's head. Probably the kind of stuff one would see in one of those human-world kung fu movies, but like her earlier kick, this one was also reiatsu powered. Which meant that despite its apparent harmlessness, it would be devastating if it hit.

If Iroka didn't manage to get his sword arm, she would simply attempt to get out of the way of the blade when he drew it, as she would attempt to revise her battleplan.


Tsuyoshi Minamoto
 

[Col Arana]

75 paragraphs, working out to a total of 375 TP to both participants.