Girl Logic (PG13, NDE)

[Marcelius]

Participants: Alphabetically: Marcelius Despres and Yoko Kusanagi
World: Human World
Thread Setting: Non Death Enabled
Rating: PG13
Location:

Karakura Town, Monolith Mall

Special Conditions:

"No striking of the hair or face...and leave the mothers out of it."

Circumstances:

While "People Watching" at the grand opening of Japan's newest, largest shopping complex; the Arrancar Marcelius will encounter the young Fullbringer Yoko. Hopefully Marc will learn more about being a dad, and Yoko will learn something too...circumstances permitting, a fight will break out.

P.S. - Circumstances says, "Permission Granted".

[Marcelius]

Anywhere and everywhere you look, hustling and bustling was the day's agenda. Various groupings, some of friends and others of families, moving about through the busy shopping season. The surrounding vista was that of a large mall complex, with a towering center surrounded by rows of plazas...it was a shining becon of Japan's captilistic nature. With the completetion of such a monolithic Palace of Purchase™, it was no surprise that most of the city would be here today. At one point or another, every citizen might pass through this tremendous marvel. After all, it had everything everyone could want. Anything could be bought. Any food could be sampled. By connecting to the bay and with the beautiful mountains in the backdrop, as well as the dozens of interior gardens, even nature's beauty could be observed within this commercial masterpiece.

Truly, there was no reason for anyone to not enjoy such a location. Even the dead could find solace here. Yes, in such an outstanding megastructure of sales and franchises, there were even shops which caters to those of more spiritual inclination. That is why, on the day of grand opening, one oddly out of place soul was present among the throngs of humans. Normally such a shade might go unnoticed, only the truly gifted capable of perciewving his ghostly form. That would not be the case today, as discretion was his goal. How better to hide a tree, than with a forest? Or so the old saying suggests. Too this end, he fitted himself with a recently acquired suit...one not quite ordinary in the world of the living. A gigai, which gave him presence on the material plane. The false body gave him an appearance much like his true form, save for a gaping hole no longer present in his torso.

The real power was the deception he could pose; while wearing this guise. With the suit itself, constricting his reiatsu, it would give him free reign to travel among the humans. The pressure a soul like his placed upon the world, would not prove harmful to those around him. It would help blend him better with the crowd, so that only someone trulty versed in the presence of Arrancar, would be able to identify him properly. This atleast, was the intent. Beyond that, he resembled a stout old man, standing at a rather tall six and a half feet. This would make him a tower among the natives, who rarely reached a flat six feet in height. Adding more to the imposing nature of the figure, his broad shoulders and bulky physique further set him apart from the typically thin frames of the locals. Yet still, the differences did not cease.

With skin pale and pinked, clearly untrained with exposure to the sun. Other thank the wrinkles beginning to form around his eyes and dimples, there were no blemishes on his face. Hair blonde and bright, shimmering whenever faced with the slightest hint of light. Dark blue eyes, which seemed to have no bottom, as they stretched far into the depths of his soul. Luckily his clothes were not such a contrast. Wearing a dark suit, which sometimes seemed blue, with a pristine white shirt and bold yellow tie. The materials which his outfit was crafted, were of humble type. Still, this was the most out of place foreigner this mall could expect to entertain. And just what was this stranger from a different land doing? Sitting, on one of the many balconies which lined the internal core of the massive mall. From his position, set in his not so comfy foodcourt chair, he could observe all the comings and goings of shops on most every level. An ideal location for a stakeout, if that was his prerogative. In actuality, though unknown to anyone but himself, he was here for a far more personal reason.

Marcelius was an old Hollow, and for his kind, old means...really god damn old. Yet for the innumerable years he has skulked across the surface of all the realms, there has never been a deficiency of entertainment. Especially in the world of the living. There was always something new, or exciting to see. Some grand new attempt by the most fleeting of species, to find joy or solace for their short existence. Being here today, at this grand opening, was just an excuse to examine all the commotion...and what it was about. Shortly thereafter, Marc found himself observing something far more different. It must be confessed, it was quite a stereotype that he fulfilled. What was worse, he did so without truly noticing. This embarasing convention was that of an old man observing young women. Often translated into perverse circumstance, this terrible social expectation was something the old soul failed to consider.

In his mind, he was doing research of a most genuine nature. Yes he watched them, but it was only to understand them. Listening to them, in a way others could not comprehend, he hoped to uncover the idealogies and reasonings they had for their actions. Why do any of this? Well, it was for his dau-comrade, Miho. Recent events had created a new relationship between them, one which the senior did not feel properly prepared for. As far as he knew, he himself never raised any children...certainly, he did not know how to play father to an Arrancar. This was something he would not admit, not easily. It was a great source of personal shame. So now he was doing what he thought might help him grow in that area, studying girls who seemed of similar 'age' and maturity. Even the elderly can be naïve sometimes. Either way, he had quite a bit to work with thus far. Fumiko Hideaki and Hisako Maeno.

Two young women, each barely beyond their nineteenth birthdays. The two of them had come to the mall together, and were now wandering around on the 6th Floor. From them he picked up friendly interactions, the happiness found in company of similar age and personality. Speaking mostly of their interests; Hisako thought proudly of her choices while 'Fumi' seemed more inclined to compare herself constantly to her companion. All in all, they thought little of their parents...less so of their fathers. What he hoped to learn, would unlikely come from them. Next came Mai Ajibana, a rather popular beauty carousing on the 1st Floor. Come to the new mall's opening with her most recent beux. In her Marcelius saw glimpses of a father who was not involved, barely more than a familar face she happened tomsee each day. Given the vigilance of her thoughts, concerning the opinions others had on her and the quality of her boyfriend...Marc felt no need to further inspect such shallowness for parental advice.

Then there was Nanami Kawate. Very quiet, very shy. Even while listening to her very thoughts, it was hard to come up with her name. She had parents who werevery controlling, intelligent and wellmeaning, but domineering. It was practically all she could think of, while darting through the crowds. Apparently she had skipped some important appointment, some prior obligation, in order to be at the mall's inaugural day...fear of punishment was all that lingered in her heart. Alsa, that would not do either. Last was the Tamuro girl, who travelled with her large family. It took time to crawl through their jovial thoughts and focus on her specifically...finally learning her name. Akemi, a sweet name. Given that her family -parents especially- was with her, he hoped to hear more on the topic of his interest. Sticking with her longer than any other soul today, he examined how she spoke and behanved with her parents. When she was near them, she conveyed up most respect. In return for her respect, a great deal of trust was levied to her.

This was helpful. Trust builds respect, and allowed both parties to enjoy the other's company. Seemed simple enough, but now he had a feel for the concept as well as knowledge. Getting a firsthand taste of such emotions from true sources. It would have been quite a happy moment...had Akemi not stepped away from her family. Darting off to meet with a gathering of friends, her attitude suddenly shifted. It would seem her parental relationship was a farce, one employed to garner trust that would be betrayed. As the nefarious adolescent lit up a cigarette, something against the wishes of her family and mall security, Marc could only sigh. Yes, he could see Miho performing thusly. On to a new focus then, someone else to build his hopes.

Which brought his attention to a location much closer by. On the 3rd Floor, just beyond the Foodcourt, stood a young human of interest. Starring into a, hobby shop perhaps, appearing enthralled by a tremendous display of robotic warriors. It seemed the shop had two toys, depicting mechanical characters from some story of entertainment, the size of full grown men...engaged in suspended battle. It was quite a scene, truly...though it did not do much to hold the old man's eye. Instead he focused on the, rather spiritually potent, young soul...unaware how blatant he was making his observations. Unattended by friends or family, isolated in the public sea. A name was coming to him, though...and soon he mumbled, "Yoko..." What advice could she offer, on the subject of young women?

SPOILER: Click to show

{Stats}
Strength - 700 Points (350 Originally)

Speed - 600 Points (300 Originally)

Spiritual Pressure - 150 Points (300 Points Originally)

Reiatsu Strength - 300 Points

Light Aura - 51 Points

Dark Aura - 49 Points

Instinct - 300 Points

Senses - 50 Points

Energy sensory - 900 (300 Originally)

Healing Expertise - 0 Points

Total SP: 1900 Points

SPOILER: Click to show

{Skills}
Analyzing - 3: He is more of a Watson.

Force of Will - 3: For the entirety of Marc's life, before becoming a Hollow, he has sought to master his mind. Now that he must suffer the grief of his defeated foes, he needs it more than ever.

Weapons (Parry) - 3: Highly focused mastery over defensive maneuvers and techniques, and zero aggression with this guy. His ability to counter with blocks is unrivaled, as his study and practice into the matter is unparalleled.

Charisma - 3: 800 years of silence, mixed with several months of Elocution lessons...from other Arrancar.

Mental Skill, Multitask - 3: For each level in this charming ability, the user may split their focus onto an additional task. 1, allows 2 simultaneous functions at once. 2, allows 3 tasks. 3, allows 4 tasks.

(OoC: Yeeeeah...I used this more for character development than fight set up...like I tried to say, 'I fight bad'. Hopefully it doesn't hinder your post any, and we can get this on track the way you probably were expecting. XD )

[Deleted]

((Don’t forget your stats and skills!))

Another day of school, and another absence for Yoko Kusanagi. A new mall had opened downtown, and rumors said it had the biggest hobby shop outside of Tokyo. There was no way that Yoko was going to pass up a chance like this. Grand openings meant two things: good stock and good deals. This was a chance to see things that might not be back in stock for a long time, and they might even be affordable! And so, for that reason, Yoko had skipped the entire day. Sure, it was still the morning, and she’d probably only spend a few hours at the store, but if she was already missing her first few classes then there was no point in going to the latter classes.

And so Yoko headed out to the mall. Her figure was far from an intimidating one, so going to such a crowded location meant she had to be on guard. Malls were a favorite for pickpockets and other scoundrels. Maybe she’d get a chance to be a hero today... but who would expect her to be a hero? She was only 17 years old, barely over five feet tall, and she only weight a hair over a hundred pounds. Based on size and age alone, she was the last person that one would expect to have a secret identity. Well, okay, it wasn’t a huge secret anymore. Apparently the Shinigami totally knew who she was. Her previous antics had earned her that, but the general public still didn’t know who she was at least.

In order to help combat her fragile appearance, Yoko chose a rather rugged outfit. A sports bra and boxer briefs served to both slim her barely-existent curves. Unless someone was a serious creeper, they weren’t going to be checking her out based on her womanly assets. Over those garments she wore a pair of gray-white urban camouflage trousers, a red tanktop, and a jacket that matched the pants. A short sword was sheathed on her back, but it was invisible under the bulky jacket. She also had a Ka-Bar stuffed in her right pocket side pocket. God bless cargo pants. Wait, if there are Shinigami… then monotheism is probably wrong… I need to get them pissed off enough they show up again so I can ask them about what religion is right.

With this look, Yoko was far more threatening than her wiry frame let on. With a pair of combat boots on, she looked totally ready to kick ass. Let’s be honest too. This was Yoko. She was looking for trouble. Sure, the hobby store was a good time, but it would be there all day. A good fight would only last a few minutes anyway. As long as mall security didn’t catch her, she was in the clear. And how could they catch her? I mean, maybe they could get her on camera, but she had some tricks up her sleeves to prevent that. Her jacket had a solid gray hood attached inside the collar, so she could hide her face pretty easily. On top of that, she could also simply run fast enough to dodge all but the fastest of cameras.

Yoko made it to the mall without getting in any trouble, but she wasn’t even in the hobby store before she sensed trouble. This wasn’t energy sensory or anything fancy like that. No, Yoko was simply using that mystical six sense that everyone had. You know that feeling when you’re being watched? That’s what she had as soon as she got near the hobby shop. Someone had their eyes on her, and not in a good way. It didn’t feel like a fearful “oh god please don’t hurt me.” No, someone was totally checking her out. Her golden hair was back in a ponytail, but that was the only visibly attractive feature about her. Who in their right mind would be checking out a military nut? Nerdy guy were too shy for that, and actual military types would know she was too young and scrawny to actually be in the JDF.

Of course the wandering eyes belonged to an old man. The hero caught him staring after a moment of searching… and did he say her name? She could’ve sworn he said her name. Maybe she was going nuts, but she was almost positive she heard her name above the din of the mall’s crowd. Like anyone else, her brain was aptly trained to react to her own name, even in a chaotic environment like this. Yoko approached the man, and she looked pissed. She’d never fought someone so old, or so tall. Beating up an old man would be too easy, so she wouldn’t resort to that. A few choice words would surely send him on his way.

[smear:00ff00]”Oi. Keep your eyes on people’s faces, and don’t stare. Aren’t you old blokes [/smear:007700][smear:007700]supposed to have enough manners to keep your eyes off kid’s asses?”[/smear:00ff00]

SPOILER: Click to show

Strength - [200] Points

Speed - [300] Points

Spiritual Pressure - [200(100)] Points <---halved

Reiatsu Strength - [400] Points

Light Aura - [50] Points

Dark Aura - [50] Points

Instinct - [200(100)] Points <----halved

Senses [100] Points

Energy sensory - [0] Points

Healing Expertise - [0] Points


Total SP: [1400]

• [Martial Arts: Kenpo Karate]

[/u] {2}

[/li][li][Weapon: Sword {2}

[/li][li][Pain Tolerance] {2}

[/li][li][Battle Analysis] {2}

[/li][li][Strength of Will] {2}

[/li][/ul][/spoiler]

[Marcelius]

Somewhere along the line, Marcelius had miscalculated. Something about the interactions of humans, something which he had been devoid of for time beyond measure, had escaped him. It seemed harmless to merely observe, after all, no physical danger was being posed. More so, Marcelius had witnessed others much like himself. Varying from men and women, young and old. It seemed to be some sort of hobby or sport that was played in social environments such as this. The objectives often varied, but the premise remained. Individuals would sit, often alone and other times in groups, and judghe those they saw. Nothing needed to be said, but it could. These judgements seemed more like assessments; which only sometimes involved highly opinionated critiques.

After a while, Marc's orginial discomfort in performing such a task, had seemingly vanished. Soon there after, he was well convinced he was doing nothing wrong. Had he been approached and questioned, he would have been in his rights. This was his expectation, at least. The more and more the day drug on, the more and more probably an interrogation would be. After all their were employees and security roaming the inner workings of this merchant's monastery, some of them would eventually have questions about him. So he resided to not worry or fret.

However, one unfortunate fact would remain. His discovery could very well come at the hands of someone spiritually aware. There had been a few who passed through here today. Some of them only barely 'awake'...while others were fullblown threats. One of those threats, had come dangerously close to his position. With her powerful song, echoing through the world around him, it became impossible not to seek her out. This was the reason why, out of all the young women filling this shopping centre, Yoko had been the first one he could not look away from.

Having been examining the teenage, female psyche all day long...he had become quite accustomed to the typical thoughts which filled their heads. Miss Kusanagi, had no such notions. Nothing about her, not her sound or her ideas, fit the template he had come to expect. Her soul, with it's immense density, made sounds which were far sharper than the rest. Her emotions were less loose or fluid than the other women. Situations and stimuli did less to her...or so he initially thought. While his eyes burned a hole in the back of her military-wear, she picked up on him. Not only did her body tense and her reiatsu flutter, but her thoughts made a sudden and powerful leap.

In the clutter of this crowded setting, it was far more difficult for him to make out the details. The sounds of the populace were not the problem, it was all the massed and darting thoughts which Dilled his senses with static. However, he still felt confident about his assertions. She had jumped quickly, distraction to vigilance. Typically only the paranoid or sensitive had any good reason for such a leap. What then, could Yoko be sensitive about? At a glance, and with his limited knowledge of human customs, she did not appear out of the ordinary by any means.

Her dress was less expected than most, but the masculine aspects of it were wasted on him. After all, the only fashion knowledge he had to go on, were the uniforms of Las Noches and the uniforms of the Segunda's Fraccion. The cause for her seemingly insecure response...well, it escaped him. And unfortunately, he would not have anymore time to ponder. The mood was shifting once more, this time, in a far less pleasant way. Into a color on the spectrum that Marc both disliked...and was all too used to. The reddish hue of anger began to swell...with we very step the young woman took, it grew into a rage.

By the time she had blazed a heated lather through the gauntlet of food court chairs and tables, the old Arrancar had time to weigh his options. What he decided on, was to remain sitting...and allow the girl her advance. Opting instead, to think of a proper greeting to share with her upon arrival...instead of a counter to any possible attack she may be staging. What he was not prepared for, was her blatant accusation. Seems the young lady was certain...Marcelius was some form of sexual pervert. Within his mind, he saw flashes and images...associated with her feelings towards those sexual devients. That is how he knew what her words were implying, given that he would normally see no harm in merely watching. With a slight tilt in his neck, he turned his eyes towards hers. The smile that had been holding happily on his face all morning, now seemed twisted into a coy little smirk.

"Excuse me? Did I hear you correctly?", already a few people were beginning to look their way...staring at the odd foreigner and the young girl who seemed determined to cause a scene. Despite their prying eyes and her irritated tone...his deep and raspy voice remained cool, unfettered. "Did you mean to call me a deviant, some sort of pervert?" Pausing, as if politely allowing her to answer the question, he soon stopped any response she intended to share. "If so, then I must sincerely apologize. It was not my intent to offend..." There was no denying it, he had been starring. Best he could hope for was to rose a sympathetic dialect. "You merely reminded me of my...daughter. Appearing similar, you see." It was a good his fellow Fraccion was not here to actually hear him call her such...that would have put him in even greater danger. In truth it was their aggressive souls which were comparable. As far as looks went, well...Yoko made efforts to not compare to Miho.

None of that mattered, however, as Marcelius was the only one aware of these facts. A coincidence which aided him, was that he and Miss Kusanagi shared blonde hair. This would further solidify humans' materialistic understanding of his use of, 'similar'. "I'm trying to get an idea of a perfect gift, as she is so hard to buy for. All day I have bern considering all the shops without making much progress. Then I saw you looking over those large toys, and I wondered if my little girl would enjoy something like that as well. I had considered it a boy's fancy, honestly. If a young lady such as you seemed to be enthralled by them...maybe it is something I should reconsider." Taking a moment of silence, he looked beyong her to the store which she referred to as a 'Hobby shop'. Maybe Miho would like something from there? Who could tell. What the far gaze allowed, was a chance to hear what Yoko was thinking now.

Had his ploy worked any? Was she still convinced he was some sexual delinquent? Turning back to her, his smile became quite wide and pleased. Standing now, his old bones seemed to creak as he rose from his tiny chair. Given that he sat at the balconies edge, with the central atrium to his back, the morning sun was pouring down from behind him. Not a particularly important fact, except that it help outline his broad body. As a senior, with wrinkles forming around his eyes, he was quite a stout individual. She had already taken note of his height, but now it was completely apparent, as it loomed over her by a near foot and a half. "Again miss, I apologize for the confusion." Not understanding the finer points of salutations or farewells, his speech just cut off. Back turned to her, he began to walk away, "The more I think about it, the more I am sure my daughter will love a Gungan of her own." Oh no, he had NO idea how badly he messed that up...

[Deleted]

Oh man, this guy was asking for it. Even after being called out, he had a smirk on his face. He started to speak, and he seemed completely unoffended. Only the truly guilty could pull that off. As he kept speaking, he only dug himself a deeper hole. This guy was clearly rotten to the core. No one could remain that calm after such an accusation unless it was no more than a routine occurrence for them. Yoko had already confirmed her suspicions without even listening to a single word he said. Oh but he did speak. He had much to say in his defense, but nothing he said could possibly save him. It was already clear he was a pervert that needed to be locked up.

The words he spoke actually made things worse in an entirely different way. At first they meant little. They were initially just attempts to play off his perversion as nothing than a misunderstanding. Obviously those weren’t going to fly, but then he made a mistake that no normal human would make. "You merely reminded me of my...daughter. Appearing similar, you see." No sane human would have said that. Nothing but Yoko’s hair even made it possible to tell she was a girl until you got to observe her unusually smooth skin up close. Making a comparison between Yoko and another girl was suspicious by itself, but that was not the entirety of this problem. No, there was far more going on than him simply making an unbelievable excuse.

He had unknowingly insulted her. Yoko was not just your average tomboy, nor was she simply your run of the mill military nut. She was a full on transgendered individual. In her eyes, she was the victim of a mistake on God’s part. The girl was born with a feminine form, but a masculine mind. She did martial arts, played video games, watched anime, and generally just wore sweats. Some might call it nothing more than her being frumpy or a gamer girl, but there was more to it than that. She actively went out of her way to shun things like makeup, skirts, and the color pink. In her eyes, none of those belonged on her in the slightest. They were simply wrong. It was the same reaction that any boy would have to those things.

And this man had gone and said she looked just like his daughter. He wasn’t allowed another word after that for quite some time. While Yoko wasn’t exactly a master of social situations, she was quick enough on her feet to come up with something likely to make this man backpedal at least a bit. [smear:00ff00]”Oh, so you stare at your daughter’s arse too ya fuckin nonce?”[/smear:007700] For just a moment, it looked like his calm image was shattered, but the man was more skilled at conversation than the young girl was. He started going on about how he was looking for a gift for his daughter, and caught Yoko looking at things in the hobby shop. That was a decent cover-up, except for one massive hole.

The fullbringer had literally just arrived in front of the hobby shop.

It was completely impossible for him to know what she was looking for in the shop, or even what shop she was going towards. She had felt his eyes on him and stopped to look for him after no more than a split-second looking at that shop. Perhaps he was simply trying to placate the crowd that was rapidly gathering? It mattered little. Yoko had her own suspicions about this guy. Yes, it was possible that he was just trying to make himself look good, but unless he was simply stupid, he should’ve known Yoko wouldn’t buy this for a second. Considering Yoko had recently been learning about the supernatural actually being real, she had a theory that she was banking on.

This guy could read her mind!

It was the only way that she could think of to explain him knowing about her interest in that shop. Of course there was also the possibility that he was simply a stalker, but Yoko would’ve noticed someone this out of place a long time ago. It didn’t really matter which was the correct explanation though. Stalkers were bad, and thus far, other people with powers were usually classified as bad guys. No matter if she was right or not, Yoko had justification to take this guy down. She really needed to get some kind of official law enforcement power or something though. If she was going to be a super hero, then she definitely needed to get the authority that would let her make arrests for when she ran into people like this guy.

Yoko’s train of thought was interrupted by him speaking once more. He apologized again, and tried to walk away. As he did so, he sealed his fate with a few words. "The more I think about it, the more I am sure my daughter will love a Gungan of her own." Now the answer was clear. He was definitely a mind reader, and he was up to no good. It was impossible to know what specifically Yoko had been looking at in the shop’s window. On top of that, there was no way any self-respecting hero could possibly mess up the name of something so iconic. Hell, no normal human should be able to get that wrong! Whoever this old man was, he definitely had some kind of power, and he probably wasn’t human. The only thing he was for sure, was ready to get his ass kicked.

As soon as those words left his mouth, Yoko sprang into action. He wasn’t going to be allowed to simply walk away from this. The fullbringer’s hand grabbed the back of his suit and flung him towards the center of the mall. It was possible for the man to dodge it with his above average speed, instincts, and mind-reading abilities, but Yoko didn’t know that. If the throw was successful, the old man would find himself in a bit of a predicament due to the layout of the mall. The throw only had enough oomph to get him halfway across the gap between the balcony on this side of the floor and the other side. Unknown to Yoko, he could easily rectify this with air ground.

Assuming the old man managed to catch himself in the air, Yoko would simply call it how she saw it. [smear:007700]”I don’t know who you are old man, but I’ve got a feeling you aren’t human.[/smear:00ff00][smear:00ff00] Any last words before I send you back to whatever pit you crawled out of?”[/smear:007700] Oooh, edgy. That was a new style for Yoko. Last time she was more on the Great Saiyaman side of things, but now she was closer to something like Spike from Cowboy Bebop… or maybe Alucard? Naw, she wasn’t that creepy. Definitely closer to Spike than Alucard. Still this anti-hero vibe could definitely work better than the superhero one. It was more hip and relatable in this gritty modern era for sure.

[Marcelius]

There is a phrase, one that describes uncontrollable bouts of terrible anger. "Seeing Red", is the phrase...and though it was conjured by humans...they lack any ability to fathom it's truths. Truly, no soul knew the purity of this statement more than Marcelius. Why? Well, it was because of souls such as Miss Kusanagi. She blazed with a burning and feverish color. With each moment of their conversation, it had been building and boiling into something far too fierce for a girl her age to suffer. Such angers belonged in the hands of older, more experienced souls. People and beings who have learned more about life, and have had the true scope of the Universe's cruelties weighed onto them.

For her to shine with such a deep hue of anger, was simply a crime. No soul, Human or Hollow, should have to feel such an unhappiness at any point. Again, it was nothing more than a crime. One which only Marc, out of all the dozens of bystanders starring at the two of them, seemed to notice. Everyone else just bubbled with curiosity and interest...none of them seemed to carry an ounce of sympathy or grief for this poor girl. It...was tragic. Even Hollows, at some point, learn that other's of their like have to slave and toil under the oppression of fear and lament.

Was this truly what the human race was like? Had it been so long since he was one of them...that he could no longer grasp their odd choices and reactions? How shameful...for both him, and they as a whole. At a time like this, a moment when another soul was experiencing something as harsh as this rage, why was no one stepping in to lend a concerned heart? Was Marc the only one willing? How ironic...given the gap which existed in place of his heart. Oh well. Life was often laden with twisted circumstances such as these. They were not the kinds of things to question or humor, but to simply act upon. How best to act, now that was the real question.

As he spoke to her, trying to smother her wrath with reason and gentle tones, she seemed to only grow more furious. At first this bewildered him, her responses not fitting with everything he knew about typical human interaction. Pretty soon, his focus had to look elsewhere, to begin sifting for the answers he needed to repair this situation. Where he found his first clues, was in the context of her thoughts. The focus of her anger, and the visualizations that she used. When his words spoke of his daughter, each time he referred to Miho, the flare would kick up. What was it then...about Miho, that was causing this ire? Pretty soon, the blunt and decisive thoughts of young Yoko disclosed a single...pivitol mental image. The reason Miho upset her, was because they had been compared. From there the answer came simply enough, why would someone be upset about a comparison?

Because they disagreed with it. So, given that Marcelius had only disclosed that his Miho was his daughter...this human must have issue with that. Either she did not like being called a daughter, or she was not found of being called a woman. Both were equally plausible, but sadly, he could not decide between them. After all, observing Yoko's clothes offered nothing to this fashion inept senior. Her mock military hard was nothing to him, it signified no masculinity. Those were simply her clothes, and hers alone. Spending the ages and ages he had in Hueco Mundo, disolved what little knowledge of fashion he ever claimed. It did not end there, oh no...there were a many things the bag of dirt did not know.

Thus the passionate images which soured, expressive favoritism for fighting and video games over skirts and cosmetics...Marcelius had not one damn clue what half of those were. The resolution was a draw between the two most likely causes, and that was that. But! Being that Marc had been here all day, examing the days that human daughters interact with their paternal figures, he was inclined to lean in one particular direction. It was decided then, that Miss Kusanagi must clearly have issues with her own father. Thus, encountering an old man doing something for the sake of his daughter must be stirring up these deep emotions.

Truth be told, further inspection of Yoko's mind...with Marcelius masterful analytical skill, would decipher the real truth behind her discomfort with her elder's words. Yet, something happened which shook Marc to his 'rotten' core. It happened so suddenly, that it knocked his mental focus completely off it's base. Inhibiting his ability to carefully read her lyrics over all the numerous other songs playing around him at once...he lost all hope of hearing the Fullbringers confess her dissatisfaction with her vagina. Instead...her sharp and wretched words, cut a wound in him which already began to fester. She made a claim, a distasteful one at that, which crossed boundaries for all races, creeds, and ages. Insinuating that he would observe some as cherished as his own child, in lewd or sexual ways...

"You are naught but a child....what could inspire such depravity in you? To suggest something so vile, without clarity or insight? To assume such a grand evil, of a complete stranger. Did your parents truly not love you enough...to teach you the error of such crass, foolish behavior?" Oh, how the words raged within his mind. Fighting against them, his calm and practiced demeanor never faltered. His thoughts would remain exactly where they belonged, deep within where they could do no harm. Still, hearing such accusations reminded him once more of Miho. It was much like the hellion, to strike so low at someone. She did it for the sake of her own personal comfort, and empowerment. Perhaps...this girl was the same? If so...she could not be indulged.

This was when Marcelius made his first attempt to leave. Simply turning his back, he made it clear he had less intention to seek a fight than she. Walking away still felt impolite, and though he walked the high road for now, it would be sullied if his exit were rude in any way. Thus is final remark, one which was meant to be a sign of gratitude and sincerity. In truth, it was the kindest possible concoction he could make in his irked state. His own annoyance was sinking away quickly, being replaced by a firm apprehension. Why would such a worry creep into his heart? It may have something to do with the momentary lapse in discipline she had sparked...or it could be the ever consolidating act of aggression forming within his antagonizer's heart.

She projected her intentions with more than just thoughts, after all, her decision to make a move was based on her rampant feelings. The same fuel she used to build her confidence when coming to confront him, now served as a broadcast for her desires and intentions. Plus...Marcelius was an ancient soul, he knew when heated youths were desperate for conflict. This particular human was harboring, what he assumed were parental issues, and striking some suspicious geezer would help her simulate the confrontation he suspected her to crave. Something was coming, and it would be soon. Anger like that does not wait, it acts.

Sure enough, the heat of her emotions approached him once more. The sound of her song grew louder and louder, till soon...a hand clasped him by the fabric of his jacket. She succeeded, mostly, because the aged Hollow was too opposed to fight back to react. This was not what he wanted, and certainly, marked the downfall of his afternoon bliss. The toss which was coming, was useful to give him a view of her strength. Hearing the energy crackling in her muscles, the vibrations coming off of her revealed an mighty impressive physique for one so dainty. Even with his size and weight, he was about to get some serious air...

What, oh what to do. Fighting a child...a young girl who was barely old enough to understand the value of her life, let alone bargain it. She was rushing into this, not guaging anything before making her moves. Hasty to approach, and even quicker to become enthralled by he aggression. Most unbecoming. Still, it was wrong of him to judge so harshly...this early on, anyways. Instead, he tried to gather his thoughts and determine how best to put an end to her foolishness. She needed a lesson, one which would do her some actual good for a change. Obviously she had been denied proper tutelage on many, many important subjects...one's he was well versed in.

Etiquette, self control, strategy, timing...and most importantly, though yet realized by Marcelius, self respect. He could show them all to her, that was not a problem. If he was lucky, he could do it before her...given her height...3rd, 4th, and 5th rib pairings were turned to dust. Ah, but these were thoughts of what might be, not what will be. Bless the Spirit of Medical Treatments Yet-To-Come for his ever changing predictions. Speaking of which, there was still the topic of her throw to deal with. She had ensnared his jacket, and clutched it tightly in her delicate, little fingers. In a flash, with speed quite admirable, she tugged the fabric with all her might.

Intending to hurl him either over her head or off to the side, she needed a good, solid throw to get his good, solid body up high enough to clear the chairs, tables and guard rails preventing his plument to certain embarrassment. Either way she attempted ewas fine, it all suited his purposes just fine. For no matter her choice in toss, whether she was an over or underhanded pitcher, the result was the same. Where their had been weight for momentum before, there was an alarming feathery quality now. Shortly after twirling her shoulder for the sling, the empty jacket she grabbed would go flopping happlessly through the air. This shock would undoubtedly cause her surprise, which was fine for the Arrancar.

He had no intention to attack her, so she had no need to fret. Turning around would reveal the wrinkled soul, standing where he had been before, only facing her now. When she tore at his jacket, he had used it as a better excuse than any to ditch the needless material. She was pulling back regardless of her throw, and he would either slip his arms right out...or begin twisting his body in tune with her pull so that he might effortlessly free himself. Both ways, though missed by her turned head, would leave him without his coat...squared off against her. To complete the look he was going for, he was already busy rolling up his sleeves. With his broad forearms coming into view from under his gathered cuffs, it was clear he was a man of 'working' build. Couple all of this with the stern look that glared down from his dark, blue eyes...she was starring at a very, very...unammused father.

"Young lady, I am not going to tell you twice...", spoken with a tone as harsh as any disobedient brat deserved, "Leave now." A simple command, easy enough for any soul to oblige. Course, he could feel it was well beyond that. Given the clear attempt on his life, and the obvious over confidence in her heart...Miss Yoko was just begging for this. Truthfully, since her insensitive comment about Miho...he had started wanting what she did. Not to hurt her and play a hero. No, he wanted to be something better than a childish dream of heroism. He wanted to be an actual instrument of change. He wanted to show her what mistakes she had made, so they would never happen again. Mmm, if only he could grant her his vision...so that she might see the grief which was compelling his every thought and word.

[Deleted]

Music!

It seemed Yoko was dealing with someone who actually had a clue how to fight. Someone who could react to her strength and speed was definitely not a normal human. The fullbringer’s skills were now far beyond what a normal mortal could ever hope to accomplish. She had to credit him a bit for his style though. Just slinking out of the suit was definitely a good way to avoid being through. But there was no time to be impressed. No, it was clear that he wasn’t a normal human now. A reaction like that was simply impossible considering her speed. He was down a suit-jacket, but that was it. Appearance of an old man aside, it was clear both from his reaction and the new look in his eyes that this man meant business.

That look in his eyes… it was more than just a look of anger. It was…disapproval? Yeah, it was a look Yoko was used to seeing all the time. Marc thought it was probably her father that gave her that glare most of the time, but he had guessed wrong. No, she was used to seeing this look on the faces of teachers and other school staff. It was a look that said “Why aren’t you in class more often? You’re going to fail out at this rate!” She was all too used to seeing that look, and she hated it. It was something adults did when they were sure they were right… and they used it even more if they actually had no way to justify themselves. Before he even said a word, this man had already gotten under Yoko’s skin that much more.

And then he spoke. "Young lady, I am not going to tell you twice... Leave now." He had just must a grave mistake. It was one thing to look down at a hero, but it was another thing to try and order them around. The first was angering, but not unforgivable. The latter had crossed a line of no return. Those were fighting words. They were words that quite clearly showed his intention to fight if the fullbringer didn’t immediately leave his sight. Of course Yoko had no such intention of doing that. She had him pegged as a mind-reader and more than human already… not to mention a pervert and possibly a child molester. Whoever this guy was, he was going down.

The first response Yoko gave was just a bit of banter. It was the calm before the storm, and her voice portrayed that. Her words were so cold and crisp that this man, even if he wasn’t special at all, would feel the icy hatred building within this young girl. [smear:007700]”I don’t think you understand what you’ve gotten yourself into pops.”[/smear:00ff00] Just like that, the calm was gone, and the storm started blowing through. A green aura surrounded Yoko as specks of Reishi floated off into the air around her. The air grew heavy with her power, and all but this old man were instantly forced to the ground. This was gravitational pressure, but it wasn’t strong enough to kill the humans.

While Yoko was sure to hold back enough that she wouldn’t kill anyone, the fact that this man was completely unaffected revealed two key pieces of information. There was no longer any doubt that he had powers of some kind. He may or may not be human, but he definitely wasn’t normal. The more concerning discovery was that he was not even bothered by the display. There was no sweat, no being forced to the ground, not even a strained look. No, he was completely fine. That meant he was at least as strong as Yoko was, if not stronger. Realizing this, Yoko’s hand unconsciously slipped into her right pants pocket and gripped the handle of her dagger. She couldn’t hold back against him.

That pressure lasted only a second since it had no effect on the opponent beyond giving Yoko that touch of information. With conclusive evidence gathered, she gave her own ultimatum. [smear:00ff00]”I know you ain’t human. I’m not sure what you are, but you’re going down.[/smear:007700][smear:007700] Be a good sport and tell me your name so I know what to put on the grave right above the line where it says ‘killed by Yoko.’”[/smear:00ff00] The old man was afforded a second to give his name, but that was all. There was no doubt that he was a threat, and it was likely he wasn’t human. Bad guys didn’t deserve to speak, but Yoko was being generous to him. See? She’s totally the good one here.

In a blur, the fullbringer vanished far faster than her opponent’s poor senses could hope to keep up with easily. She didn’t go far though. Yoko had only taken a single step, but that one step was taken at a speed of 900. This was movement, the most basic of all stepping techniques. Just before that step had been taken, a knife had been drawn ever so slightly out of the girl’s pocket and held forward just below her waist. The step had taken her, nearly instantaneously, to only a few inches in front of the man. The distance between them was no larger than the blade of this dagger, and a slight push forward was all that was needed to thrust it into his upper leg. Of course there were ways he could dodge, but the attack had come so suddenly that he was probably off guard.

From that point, there was no sense in waiting to see if the attack had been successful. Instead, she vanished again to get to a safe distance. This time, she went straight passed him. A second use of movement had taken her straight to center of the mall. She was right in the middle, between the balconies on either side. With a mall of this size, that meant there was a good deal of space on all sides of her. Thanks to the use of air ground, a skill Yoko had rapidly become adept at, there was even space above and below her. There was plenty of time for her to see a counterattack coming, no matter where it came from.

[smear:007700]"You've gone an aggro'd a raid boss mate. Might want to run home and grab a party to back ya up."[/smear:00ff00]

Reiatsu: 950/1000
-50 for 2 uses of movement

[Marcelius]

(OoC: Sorry again about the delay! I hope this post is to your satisfaction, cause if not...I might cry. No seriously, I tried hard here, so I hope it is acceptable.)

And there it was, that authority figure that had been plaguing Marcelius curiosity from the start. It was clear with her abrasive words and aggressive behavior, that young Yoko was quite the rebellious sort. What he had heard within her mind till now was just anger, pure and emotional. But not she gave him more, something truly worth hearing. Faces, names...ideas of the people who constantly challenger her. Teach and instructors, the ones who want more for her in life but have failed thus far to control her. Seeing the picture more clearly now, Marc was finally finding the information he had desired.

This whole day was supposed to be about him building a better understanding of how his daughter might act or feel...learning what Miho kept hidden from him, through the hearts of others. The lesson that Yoko was going to teach, was how to gauge tough love. That is right, she would show him all the mistakes her mentors had made...and he would avoid them. The excitement from this revelation was enough to save the sour mood her aggression was pushing him towards. Speaking of aggression, there was something momentarily different the brutish little Fullbringer. It seemed, if only slightly, that she had become somewhat impressed with him just now. It was quickly being buried in more rage, but...it certainly was there. Such a shame that Remorse would not allow him to savor such flattery.

No, his joy could not last. After all, his emotions were constantly under attack from her own. The anger she felt was caustic, virulent even. Through willpower alone he was able to maintain his calm, unshaken exterior. Inside, though, she was burning him up with all this hatred. But no matter how much it may pressed against his mood...her feelings would always push her harder. Long before she could open her mouth and spew her best attempt at name calling -this was not a fair judgement on Marc's part, as Yoko was a fine 'smack-talker'...it's just that, his daughter was better- he could feel the depression of spiritual pressure starting to build. Pretty soon, after her venomous words issued forth, he felt the sudden pull of spiritual gravity.

In a dynamic display of clout, Yoko lit her body with a brilliant aura of green reiatsu. Honestly, it was quite impressive. Not the strongest he had seen or felt, but she had no reason at all to be ashamed. Nor would she be, even if he tried to make her feel that way. All the same, her little show had a purpose to it. Even though the idea was in her head, it escaped his detection. Her plot went unheard through the cries of hundreds. That is right, this mall was packed...and a soul as developed as hers, had quite the range on her pressure. The reach of her aura covered a lot of ground, on several floors. People who had no knowledge or awareness of the fight which was brewing on the 3rd floor terrace.

In an instant, all of those unsuspecting people were forced down to their knees...mean we dropped even further to the flats of the bellies or backs. To someone like Marc, wwho hears the secret fears and surprise of other souls, this mall became a grandstand of terror and confusion. Though he was certainly unfettered by her display of power, his brow did not go without sweat. For a moment, he let out a deep gasp, and seemed to be shaking where he stood. This did not weaken his sense, it must be known...if anything it was a pain that stimulated his awareness. All the same, for better or worse, Miss Kusanagi did not seem to notice...or mention it. Certainly her thoughts did not display any insight to this subtle change.

"I think...she might be right.", he thought to himself, "I have no idea who I am dealing with." Where she was once the hero, playing the part of Justicar...here to rid the public of villiany; no Yoko seemed only like a villain, who would risk much for little. Or at least, this was Marcelius initial reaction. Time would certainly fepill out the details better. In the mean time, the pit viper was raring back with a fresh batch of poisonous threats. It seems she was eager to raise the scales of their conflict, to levels far beyond Marcelius' comfort. Maybe it was his disinterest, or maybe it was the sudden rush of hundreds of frightened souls...something was killing Marcelius' resolve to continue process with the fight.

Having mind to tell her this, he prepared to share his name an-ah aggression, just when her words had just about sunk in, she had to go a ruin it. Using tricks to subvert his focus? Why did the crafty ones have to be so mean? Why could Marc never find someone with his wit...who was nice? No matter, no matter. She was charging, and before she could leap off her left foot -thus to lead with her dominant right- he could feel the reiatsu she suddenly prepared. It is like listening to a song, for Marc, and her's just raised the tempo. Either way, he could feel the attack coming and with her clever mind he saw one image, and one image only. A leg. It was her fixation, and he assumed, her target. Once again, he wished he could pause and applaud her skill.

By injuring his leg, she made sure his long stride and possibly greater speed were both hindered. As an added bonus, it would also be hard for him to utilize full body exhertions of strength...having one weak support beam and all. Finally, though least likely in her design, he could just bleed to death. Damn that would suck. Either way, he knew a target. Her speed was amazing, once more, she should be very proud. In a flurry to quick for his eyes to dream of following, she was gone. Ah, but old oculars were a stereotype...and he was a fighter, was he not. Obviously, he had solutions to this. It was, once again, his ability to sense energies. The poor girl could not possibly know the level of awareness she was bull rushing.

Honestly, she had made little effort to test her suspicions or guage his limits. Making her first move a speedy charge, it was enough to earn another disappointed look. After all, her hopes were so simple, to merely out run his attenti-oh, that's it. How else could she measure his reaction time...well, a lot of ways really, but this one was definitely one of them. Regardless, he was already making his move. She had dipped forward to charge, so would he. Well, it was not a charge. More like a stroll? See, his insight could read how fast she was moving...nearly 20 times faster than a girl her age should. Again, impressive. The issue was her thoughts. Having been there with her for most of her early speculations about him, he felt like he had watched her grow up...in a way.

In the end, he learned just how fast this little one could solve a problem handed to her. She was a star among humans, but nothing quite like him. Moving 20 times faster, but thinking barely above average...the math was all there. So when Yoko launched, he just walked straight ahead. It was if he were making a careful approach to her former, stationary self. See, a stroll. Where she intended to arrive in front of him -close enough for her limited armspan and even smaller blade to have a chance of reaching his thigh...knee, shin, calf, ankle, wherever...- she would now come crashing into his broad chest. And let it be known, the landing was not comfy. Normally bodies are quite forgiving. Cartoons often depict fat laden humans as landing pads of pillowy softness.

Marc was none of that. He was brawny, and he was firm. If it were not for the speed of her impact and possible busting of her lip or nose, she may have had sense enough to take note of his density. Seriously, dude had skin like iron. (Hue...) In the end, Yoko would strike herself, at her mighty speed, with his torso. Her excessive speed and limited reactions were the true culprit. Marcelius did little more than step into her path shortly after takeoff. If there was ever a more harmless manuever, certainly Marc could not imagine it. Before he could comment on what just happened or help her back to her feet, the young woman was gone. Now, he could sense her...but not see her. Damn it all, if she was not fast. So, the search began...and ended almost as abruptly as it had started.

With her stationing herself on airground within the massive, open atrium...she was indeed protected from surprise in all directions. Surely she would not be too hurt or knocked about, to know where she left her rival? If she did look back to the 3rd level, she would see his curious face lean out from behind a massive pillar...one of the large, columns which kept this tower upright. The look was more disbelief than anything, as sensing her presence hover in thin air...and actually seeing it, are two very different things. Now what surprised him was not her use of airground, but her willingness to display such a trick in a public venue. Granted, her earlier display had this place in an uproar, and surely people were filling out of her as fast as they could.

Marc did notice a lot of minds yelling 'Terrorists', 'Apocalypse', and 'Aliens...'(hand gestures and face included)...on the way out; was it really necessary to fuel such hysteria? Was that the Human way? The Fullbring method? He would have to ask her later. Either way, having spotted her, he moved to the edge of the balcony so that he may better address her. Not stepping over, jumping, or using airground to join her...no, he remained firmly planted on the floor provided Behind the guardrail, and surrounded by food court tables and chairs. With arms raised up, palms of his hands offered to her, he dared thee unthinkable. "I should have taken you more serious...when you tried to throw me." His voice sincere, but a bit dramatic. Just for effect, not to be rude.

It was something he had picked up during his time of observation. Another lesson was...well, actually, better safe the other lessons for later. "This will seem strange, but...I would like to apologize. I should never have threatened you like I did, it was crude and uncalled for. So...I am sorry." Arms still raised, and though she would lack the capacity to tell, his reiatsu was not building for something sneaky. "I thought I could frighten you away, and avoid...all of this." His hands gently motioned between himself and her. "I imagine you are determined to continue, so I will not try to dissuade you. I should not be telling you what to do with your life or your choices." His face lost his typical smirk by this point, and he hoped to reflect the genuine quality of his apology.

"I will fight you, though, there will be terms. Namely, if I win...you have to help me buy an acceptable gift for my daughter. You 'appear' to be near her age, and I really need something she will love. And I have no earthly clue, where to even begin." Yet another sigh, from the old windbag. "Obviously, you get something if you win. I'll tell you my name so you can etch your gloating onto my tombstone....or maybe I can do something for you in exchange for you sparring my life. That is all up to you." 'Looking' around now, to see if all the people had vacated the area, he eagerly awaited her reply.

She would need to hurry, as the law enforcement for this world was surely on their way. There were two of them, and one was immune to bullets and handcuffs. Maybe he would warn her of that, if this all drug on any longer than he desired. Mmm, the again, the state of her mind was quite dishevelled. With motives far beyond his compression, she wanted him to suffer. It was so strange to him, given their little interaction. Then again, Hollows get eaten by Hollows they just met all the time. Perhaps the civility Marcelius envied the human world for...only existed in the heartsof those unburdened with spiritual awareness. It...would make sense.

God, he hoped not...

[Deleted]

((I've updated Yoko's stats and reiatsu to match the ruling about LG being abolished. The new stats are at the end, the last paragraph is an IC attempt to explain the changed stats.))

Same Music since it's the same scene.

It was certainly an admirable reaction time. Because of his mind-reading powers, this man had been able to start moving even before Yoko did. That was troublesome by itself, but the movement he chose meant there was no cause for concern. He had simply walked forward. There was no attempt to dodge, nor an attempt to counterattack. He could easily have landed one if he so chose, but instead he simply took a step forward. It was enough to throw off Yoko’s range, but it actually worked to her advantage. She had been holding the dagger forward, even before she took that incredibly fast step. The dagger, not her body, was the first thing to hit the old man.

Human or not, the dagger was effective. Unknown to Yoko, this was because Marcelius only had his basic Hierro active, and thus his defenses were far weaker than they could be. He was in a body equivalent to that of a normal human. It had the steel skin of an Arrancar, but Yoko’s superior reiatsu strength let her cut through it like butter. He had other similarities to humans right now; he was visible to all, but more importantly, he could be cut. Since the dagger was the farthest thing forward, and it was moving forward with the speed of Yoko’s step, it was easily able to plunge into the leg of the older man. Old men weren’t renowned for their ability to get stabbed and keep fighting, but this was a strong, willful soul. He could fight through whatever pain he was experiencing for a while at least.

There was one other effect of leading with the dagger. Because this dagger did have a guard, albeit a small one, it couldn’t actually plunge all the way into the man’s leg. This was good for both fighters. The blade by itself was a good half a foot, but the entire dagger was almost a foot long. Had that entire thing been in the man’s leg, he would’ve needed major surgery to save his leg. As it stands, the wound was still deep enough that, even with the improved durability of spiritual bodies, he would bleed out eventually without some kind of medical care. But, there was luck for both the old man and Yoko. No major arteries or veins had been hit somehow, and no bone was struck either. The old man could still use his leg, albeit painfully, and Yoko was able to more easily retrieve her weapon as she stepped away with her second use of movement. The blade also had the benefit of preventing a collision. Since it was the first thing to hit, and it was held just a bit farther forward than her leg, the knife was the only point of impact.

The crowd was definitely fleeing at this point, and that was a good thing. That meant that they wouldn’t be around when things got serious. No observers meant she could go all out, and it also meant no one saw her use her powers. Since her power had effected such a broad area, no one who lacked the ability to sense reiatsu could tell it was her that had forced everyone to their knees a second ago. With that one move, she had actually secured the safety of everyone in the mall. It was an odd way to do it for sure, but it was definitely effective. Now all she’d have to do is make sure to go retrieve any security tapes after she dealt with this guy and she was good to go. While that plan was all well and “good,” the old man had more talking to do still.

"I should have taken you more serious...when you tried to throw me. This will seem strange, but...I would like to apologize. I should never have threatened you like I did, it was crude and uncalled for. So...I am sorry. I thought I could frighten you away, and avoid...all of this. I imagine you are determined to continue, so I will not try to dissuade you. I should not be telling you what to do with your life or your choices. I will fight you, though, there will be terms. Namely, if I win...you have to help me buy an acceptable gift for my daughter. You 'appear' to be near her age, and I really need something she will love. And I have no earthly clue, where to even begin. Obviously, you get something if you win. I'll tell you my name so you can etch your gloating onto my tombstone....or maybe I can do something for you in exchange for you sparring my life. That is all up to you."

Yoko was oddly patient with him. She let him speak, though she wasn’t sure why. Perhaps it was because she was simply feeling far superior to him at that moment, or perhaps it was because she knew every second he spoke was another second he was losing blood. She knew he wasn’t human, and he wasn’t a Shinigami either… well, there was no proof of the latter, but her gut said that much. The fullbringer lacked knowledge of the other spiritual races. She had been given no proper education about them, and thus she could only assume that the man before her was a single type of foe. He was a demon. The bible told stories of demons who had escaped from hell to torment the living. Perhaps this was a test from God. It was possible the Shinigami had been wrong. Maybe he was just another human like her, but with an elaborate lie?

Either way, the truth mattered little at this moment. There was little else this man could be than a demon, so that’s the assumption that Yoko operated on. In all the games she played, demons bled just fine. Her dagger had his blood on it, so that much was consistent. What she didn’t know was what kind of powers the demons had. In some games they were basically mortals. They were weak and could be slain by even a level 1 character. In others, demons were nigh impossible to destroy. If this old man was anything like Dante of Devil May Cry, then his calmness was explained by bloodshed not being an issue. It was hard to know which, if any, games had an accurate idea of demons. Time would tell, but right now it was a time for action, not pondering the nature of demonkind.

[smear:00ff00]”I hate to break it to you, but I don’t bargain with demons. That’s what you are right? A demon. No human could take a dagger to the leg and look so calm. [/smear:007700][smear:007700]No human could stand when I unleash my power. No human would be so out of touch with the way the world works.[/smear:00ff00][smear:00ff00] I suppose this makes me an agent of God then, here to slay the demon. We’re free from distractions now that everyone’s gone and run away, so shed that stolen body and show me your real form Satanspawn. [/smear:007700][smear:007700]I’ve drawn your blood once already, and I’ll do it again once you’re at full power. I’ll send you straight back to hell, and then you can tell Lucifer that this town is under my protection.”[/smear:00ff00]

It was after she had spoken that Marc, and Yoko too, would feel a change brewing within the fullbringer. Her power was shifting, churning, and growing. Perhaps this was the product of the rage that had been brewing in her, or perhaps it was God sending more power to his chosen warrior. The feeling was invigorating for the young girl, and it was likely terrifying for the demon. If she could increase her power at will like that, then it was entirely possible she had managed to hide her presence, even from Marc's extraordinary sensory capability. Still, she did not have much more power in terms of force. There was simply a greater capacity within her now. It was strange, yes, but this power would come in handy for slaying a demon.

Reiatsu:1950/2000
+1000 because of LG Ruling

SPOILER: Click to show

Strength - [200] Points

Speed - [300] Points

Spiritual Pressure - [200] Points

Reiatsu Strength - [400] Points

Light Aura - [50] Points

Dark Aura - [50] Points

Instinct - [200] Points

Senses [100] Points

Energy sensory - [0] Points

Healing Expertise - [0] Points


Total SP: [1400]

• [Martial Arts: Kenpo Karate]

[/u] {2}

[/li][li][Weapon: Sword {2}

[/li][li][Pain Tolerance] {2}

[/li][li][Battle Analysis] {2}

[/li][li][Strength of Will] {2}

[/li][/ul][/spoiler]

[Marcelius]

What was this pain...that struck him through the core of his being? It felt sharp, and it felt cold. His senses seemed to wane under it's pressure; leaving them unable to recognize. One moment, isolated and controlled, and in the next it would flood his being. Having long since finished his speech, his offering of a bargain; Marcelius now listened to the rant of his ired rival. Words which to her, were proud boasts and pledges of conviction...or confidence, were to him as poison. They seeped from her lips, and flew at him like arrows. To their razor edges, he had no defense. They simply piereced him, to his soul...spreading their malicious toxin throughout.

His blood grew warm, but his body still shivered. Words which meant to rile anger and agitation, did so, while chilling his nerves with the confirmation of wicked disgust. Yes, that is what this was. Disgust, terrible and loathing. Yoko hated him, wholely. Without no reasons other than speculation, her fetid spirit determined an immovable repulsion. The sound was awful, like a bubbling, seething bile. It dared to corrode anything which drew to close, leaving nothing sacred or exempt in it's wake. For Marcelius, deep confusion resided.

Confusion over why her opinion could be as such? What reason did she have to hate him so? Had he not been sincere? Had his intentions not be made clear? Was his supposed kindness really something entirely different? That must be it. It must be something he himself was doing wrong, to inspire such detest. But what, his mind could not comprehend. In Yoko's mind, there was no definite reason for her feelings or certainties. Thus, his attempts to learn his evil as she saw it, were made difficult...and unproductive. Yet, the loathing continued, unabated or diminished. Despite his earnest attempt...

Yes, his earnest attempt. The offering he made, to indulge her violent fetish; while eliminating any animosity between them. It was a poor effort, as it had not succeeded, but it was still genuine. Truthfully, since this all began, he had given her every reason to not pursue the confrontation. Expressing only kindness and concern, even his one mild threat was more petition than order. He had been fair. He had been restrained. He had given his all to see that neither of them need suffer. No no no, if there was any issue here, it was with her. This foolish child who sought the destruction of others at the expense of herself.

An agitator, who with her great skill could still not escape her recklessness. The more he thought of her, her actions, and the sounds which poured from her soul...the more he realized how angry she had made him. With her wild accusations of his intentions. The sickening filth which spewed from her mouth, concerning this relationship with his daughter. Inside he felt a wretch, the return of her words causing his innards to twist in illness. His soul, his mood, all of it began to glow and sing.

As the sound picked up, enough to be heard over her own...he realized something he had not considered before. The disgust he heard, that disturbed his senses; the sound came from within. Yes, it was his spite which filled his ears and sullied his thoughts. Regardless of whether she truly shared his hate was irrelevant...for at this moment, he would not hear it over his own Noise. The sound was such, that he longed to drown it out. In an attempt to do just that; the Arrancar spoke out once more.

"Demon...hmmm. I could say the same of you..." Regardless of his knowledge on her powers, her actions could still be constreued as monstrous. Demonic, even. But more so than her hovering upon several stories of air, lay even more reason to suppose a Hellish possession. There was still her sound, the music of her now sicken soul. "Excluding your involvement of innocnets...what of this. You stand, with weapon drawn on an unarmed old fool." The floating in midair going well beyond the need of mentioning.

"Men are coming, we both know that. Individuals charged with investigating the 'attack' on this mall. Men who will arrest us both." Pausing, looking about for ways that he could best use to leave. "What do you suspect they will make of this? Even if you succeed in killing me, it will amount to little more than a random stabbing. I die a victim, and you live a pariah." Though his message rang with honesty...he had learned of Yoko's disdain for the truth. Reality obviously did not sit well with her. So as he spoke, his guard was raised. More necessity, than desire.

"I can not imagine the law would value your opinion as either assailant or murder...and your cruel words have robbed me of all my former desire to help you." Leaning forward, both hands on the guardrail before him, his voice trailed and echoed through the empty plaza. The tone, gruff but concerned...as though he had exaggerated his lack of regard. "Each passing second, on this path, brings you closer to self destruction." Those words, once spoken...seemed to spark something within the Hollow as well. Just as Yoko had created mortal opposition where need not exist, so too had he allowed himself to share in her hate. It was too much to assume any understanding or compassion between a Human and a Hollow...yet this fool did so anyways.

In the end, the only connection shared was that of mutual scorn. Having proved easily coerced, he failed to uphold the higher morality he wished to impose. He...had already been defeated. A revelation, the old man let free a deep and long withheld sigh. The passion of his contempt shifted, driving him to discomfort instead of action. Rather than make an attempt to share his growing impatience, through attack or aggression; Marcelius' hand simply rose and fell upon the guard rail in front of him. A small gesture of his dissatisfaction with her retort. A defeated and saddened gesture. Not only did his verbals express this, but so to did his eyes.

Even with all the terrible things she had said and done, how greatly she twisted him into rejecting her, it was weariness which won the day. Old wrinkled eyes hung heavy, wanting even less to do with this than before. If such was even possible. Either way, it was visible in his eyes. Not only that he could no longer stand the sight of her, but that he had not the consideration to indulge her. What was once the look of disapproval, now became filled with shame. Shame in her, for the poor quality of her character and thinking. Shame in himself, for not proving a better aid to her growth or education.

Given the deterioration of the situation, the risk of plummeting further into madness; Marc decided to make his exit. With his first step away from the conflict, his senses realigned. In that instant, when he was not distracted by the mercilessness of today's youth, real pain tore through him. It came like a shot, sudden and profound. The agony was physical this time, bridging the gap between his mind and form. At that moment, he discovered the wound which she had left him. A cut, precise and clean. Stretching deep into the muscle of his Gigai; the laceration seemed to miss everything of vital nature. It was merely a flesh wound, a deep one which threatened most pain and blood loss.

The most alarming quality of the cut, was that he had ignored it this long. How it could have come to be, puzzled him. When they collided before, obviously, she had found a way to pierced his steely skin. The possibilities of such an act, eluded him. What did not, was the pain...which stung through his leg at the completion of the step. The pause would not go unnoticed, and certainly, an attack of opportunity might come. Not that it mattered. Despite his wound, he would walk of out of this building. A limp would accompany his elder's hobble. This facade was truth, not guise. There was pain, and even though he could bear it...he chose not to.

The reminder was paramount. The likelihood of Yoko unearthing any rational or sensibility at the sight of this...was unlikely. His expectations waited the stab in the back, the slit throat; whatever she decided. Having been wrong so many times already, he truly hoped for one more error. The odds, were simply to unrealistic. So, he kept what dignity he could...as he took the steps which could just as easily be his last. "I really had hoped to hear your advice..." Most likely, having to yell to still be heard. "Now, whether I live or die, my little girl goes giftless. Hmmm, what an awful regret."

"Miho. His mind awoke, exiting his martyr's haze. "Kuroi." Another name, which wrestled with the reigns of his consciousness. "Las Noches..." Not just a name, but a concept. "...family." Words, all of them, meaning the more to him than any others. They were what he had sought for so many, many years. His greatest desire, since his earliest thoughts. Carrying more meaning and purpose than any small trinket such as individual agenda or desires. Family, and the prospect of it's growth and prosperity; these were the things which drove Marc. The idealogy of empathy was but his personal endeavor; which paled in comparison to the goals of his kind.

Though his age had made him quite content with the possibility of his death; the world around him was not so complacent. There were others to whom he could be a benefit, to whom he could aid. So what if some singular girl, a juvenile, did not accept him? Why should each and every soul way so heavily on him? What did he truly owe her, or anyone else...just because he could understand them? Maybe there was not anything to learn about proper parenting from humans, but at least he could gather a lesson on priorities. Just like all the souls which did only for themselves or those closest. Like Yoko had risked the lives of so many to further her own wants.

That was his true knowledge from today. Knowledge he aimed to keep, and expand. Which brings the topic back to the Fullbringer. Hmm. The field of battle might be full of possibilities, but the opponent can ever only choose a few. Marcelius...in ways unlike any other living being, could know what ways are chosen. When she attacked, if she attacked, he would be ready. Already his skin began to tingle. Partly from anxiety, and partly from his Hierro which now chimed to life. Though he would never beg another soul to attack...he found reason to not dissuade it.


Spiritual Exhaustion - 0/4
Physical Exhaustion - 0/8

Remaining Reiatsu - 1100/1500

-400 Reiatsu, Hierro Resonancia

[Deleted]

((Sorry for the relatively short post. I just don't have a ton of muse for beating up Marc ))

”Demon…hmmm. I could say the same of you…” This retort earned nothing but a calm chuckle from the fullbringer. The hero always did seem like they were in the wrong from a villain’s point of view, but that didn’t make the villain right. No, they were simply on opposite sides of an eons long battle. Good versus evil. Dark versus light. Hero versus villain. It was an eternal struggle that would go on until one side was eradicated. There was plenty more that could be discussed on that topic. Intellectual arguments existed for both sides, but they were all beyond Yoko. Her mind was not one to be swayed by honeyed words. She was stubborn to the point of foolishness in most things, and this was no exception. Her actions were justified because he was a demon. That’s all there was to it.

Not knowing this, the old man attempted to argue his case. ”Excluding your involvement of innocents… what of this. You stand, with weapon drawn on an unarmed old fool.” While debates were not her forte, the girl did have an answer for this. She quoted from scripture, [smear:007700]”And no wonder, for Satan himself masquerades as an angel of light. It is not surprising, then, if his servants also masquerade as servants of righteousness. Their end will be what their actions deserve. Paul’s second letter to the Corinthians. Chapter 11, verses 14 and 15. Your appearance matters not, demon.”[/smear:00ff00] She wasn’t a huge scholar of the bible, but those verses were ones that her parents had used to remind her to not give in to those who would sway her from her path. She had never thought they would actually come in handy, but it seemed all things had a use eventually.

With that argument defeated, he tried another tactic. He spoke of police that were surely coming to stop them. The old man posited that they would arrest both of them, and that Yoko would be seen as a criminal. What Marc didn’t realize was that his argument only worked if one knew all the facts of the situation. In Yoko’s mind, it played out very differently. He was a demon, the spawn of Satan himself. The man he inhabited was no more than a case of possession, and the body’s life was not yet in danger. All that needed to be done was to force him from this shell. The body of the old man would recover from a wound, and the corpse of a demon would prove her innocence.

Still, the old man demon spoke on. He spoke of a loss of desire to help the fullbringer, but he also spoke in a manner that Yoko could only see as a sign of aggression. ”Each passing second, on this path, bring you closer to self destruction.” If that wasn’t a threat, then Yoko didn’t know what a threat sounded like. Her path was slaying him, so saying she was heading towards destruction simply meant he intended to prevent that by killing her. On top of that, he had asserted that her death would be her own fault. Classic misdirection. The demons and devils of the world never did see themselves as evil, so why would they admit a death was their fault?

And then the demon, likely knowing it was defeated, simply tried to walk away. Yoko couldn’t help but find this hilarious. A demon, a being of pure power and evil, was trying to flee from her. Even as he fled, he continued to try and preach his innocence, but Yoko was having none of it. She easily kept pace with his limp, and once it appeared he was finally done talking she leaped in front of him. If she wasn’t attacked then and there, which seemed unlikely given his previous actions, then she reached out to grab him by the collar. She used only a single arm for this. It still had enough strength to easily lift him off the floor.

[smear:00ff00]”I don’t think you understood me demon. You weren’t given a choice. Release yourself from this body and show me your true form. I will not fall for your deception, nor will I let you walk away.”[/smear:007700] If she still wasn’t interrupted, Marc would be slammed into the nearest wall. It wouldn’t harm him in the slightest. His strength was enough to crash through entire buildings and be undamaged, not to mention that he had Hierro. Still, it sent a message. Yoko was not letting him move unless she showed his true form. If he continued to abide by his peaceful ways for too long, her patience would run out. If that happened, his death was likely to follow shortly.

Reiatsu: 1950/2000

[Marcelius]

"I will not...", his voice pouring smoothly from the depths of his chest. Even with wound and discourse applying such stress to his rationale, he remained defiant. "Be the monster, that you wish me to be." No stutter from his lips, or slip from his tongue. The certainty with which he issued this decree was undeniable. What Yoko craved...what she needed, he would not provide. She hoped for him to reveal some sinister darkness within himself, but that simply did not exist. Not anymore.

Certainly she had made quite the ass of herself, punishing the likes of a disinterested elder. Wanting a villain that she might slay, to prove her strength and merit as champion; Yoko was being driven to desperation. Attacking one such as himself, who could not bear to offer resistance. Had she not seen how pointless this struggle had become? Was it satisfying to tempt and twist his conscience until he surrendered and became what she claimed? Willing to become the evil herself, in order to draw out a supposed monster. That was it, Yoko had become the serpent.

It was Marc who was supposedly a deceitful spirit, who used lies to hide his evil agenda within charity or kindness. But what of Miss Kusanagi? Was she not playing the role of the temptress, forcing and coercing him to act in anger? Did she not hope to see his goodness wear away so that the two might engage in the heated, bloody conflict of her dreams? If anything, THAT was evil. She was becoming the demon; one built out of sincere goals. The worst of it was; the Fullbringers lunacy had claimed all the rational portions of her mind. Not only could he see it, but he could feel it as well.

Her stubbornness was, as it had been, a continued inspiration for him. The will was admirable even if it's motives were cruel and misguided. Over and over he wished for a way to convince her, to instruct her on the nature of the misconception. Knowing she would not dare listen, why could he not stop talking? "If the end result is your slaying me either way...then why would I want to die a monster?" That asurity before, sounded now...less pure. As he weighed his options, one thought kept resurfacing. How wrong was the girl? Truly?

The answer, upset him more than her cursed words. Failing to prove his innocence did not come from shortcomings of his skills, but from shortcomings within the case itself. The reality was, he was Hollow. Born from the soul of a human, whom could not defeat their unhappiness. For their weakness, they are left empty...desperate to sooth their aches with the pain of others. That is when the consuming begins. The more she accused him, and the more he tried to conjure some suitable explanation or excuse, the more he remembered where he had come from. The time spent as a Mask, licking his teeth clean of spirit's remains. Spirits like hers. No matter what he hoped to be now, his past was never to change. At one point, he was everything she envisioned. Maybe...there remained a remnant of what was so long ago? Perhaps Yoko could what he was unwilling to acknowledge.

How painful this thought was to consider. The pain was pressure, which crushed down on his head like a vice. It took only a moment of suffering to decode his conscience's message. The weight which he felt, was the two fragments that normally laid rest on his brow. Those slivers which remained from the moment of his freedom. Though his Gigai might hide them from view, it could not actually take them away. What then should he do. Continue to deny her? Should he restrain himself and attempt to uphold the virtures he wished would stay? Or...should he behave as his nature intended? Going against the principles which embodied only his most recent self. As painful as she may have been with her words, it did not take away from their credibility. Though it might hurt a lesser man to admit he was wrong, it would not hinder Marcelius one bit. For he was not man...he was Hollow.

"I have nothing more to say to you...", vast pools of blue peered into her cross expression. Shade seemed to cover his face, and in it's presence, all light dimmed within his eyes. His smile faded, every trace of it. This, was actually a significant change. Even while being berated, he had managed to retain the hint of a smirk. It seems now, for reasons she would undoubtedly confuse or claim as her own, his mood was gone. To her credit, it does take quite a lot to stir the stubbornness of age. Ah, but this was not a moment for pride or victories. Hanging on the wall, pinned by her impressive strength, he starred her down. Waiting for her mind to accept his words and decide on her action. There is no purpose in hiding it. No reason for dishonesty.

She was to provide his cue in the upcoming dance. Whether she let him go or struck him down, it did not matter. Even if her mind hesitated, or her body reacting without thought, he was prepared. At such a distance, such close proximity, he could feel more than just her thoughts. The very energy of her soul, as it coursed through her body, became apparent. Like feeling each breath when embraced by a friend. All it took was Yoko's last decision, her final choice on whether killing an old man was truly worth all the effort. At this point, however, Marcelius was beyond the reach of surprise. It was clear to him, if not her as well, exactly what was going to happen. Such a day it had been, this trip to the mall. How god damn lucky...all those other fathers had been.


Spiritual Exhaustion - 1/4
Physical Exhaustion - 1/8
Emotional Exhaustion - Fucken Done(Hue)

Remaining Reiatsu - 1100/1500

Hierro Resonancia Active

[Deleted]

((ooc: Got permish to post in this. It's a cinematic to help stuff move along. Booty. #TeamNachos))

Where the fuck is he?! Piercing scarlet eyes were narrowed in the dangerous fashion they always were in when the hellion was feeling a particular type of way. She wanted to train with the old geezer and dammit, she fucking will. Miho Shoga had absolutely no regards for anyone but herself. Yes, she was a selfish brat but she was his selfish brat. She was his daughter. That was fucking it. That automatically meant that she took priority over everything and everyone. Wasn't that reason enough? She wanted to train and she wanted to do it NOW. Even if she didn't take priority over everything else, she'd still be numero uno just because she fucking can and that was the way the world worked. Or at least, it was the way she tried to make it work. With this particular demoness, it was either her way or the dying way; both of which were ridiculously brutal.

She wouldn't have any other way, obviously. Who knew this better than daddy dearest? When Miho wanted something. She got it. She wanted training? Then you damn well better know that she wanted to train with him. She refused to train with anyone else. Kuroi wasn't scary but there was something awkward about asking your boss for help. Asuka was a total dimwit and so was the rest of her little pow-wow. Nijuu was good for her powers but beyond irritating. Rio? Tch. Please. She'd sooner jump off a building in a frilly white dress. She'd never ask the man she was trying to prove a point to for help. Was she really doing that though? Proving a point? She just wanted to show how formidable she was as a fraccion; That the Espada title was completely unnecessary. After her last fight with him, she wasn't 100% worried about being able to prove that..

..But being less than 100% was simply unacceptable to her. Completely and utterly unacceptable. So, who did that leave? Father. Well, he wasn't her real father but he kinda felt like one. Like a real dad. It was hard to verbally acknowledge something like that. Especially hard for a demoness like herself. Someone who normally had no relationship of any kind. Someone who normally destroyed and ripped apart relations of any kind with anyone else... she had someone that legitimately wanted to see her further herself. For once it was someone who wasn't selfish. It was someone selfless. Not only was there true value in that but hey, the little hellion actually liked that someone gave a damn about her and the demons that plagued her so fervently 24/7. So, Marc it was!

But seriously, where the hell was the old scarecrow? Miho kicked down his door with absolutely no regards for her surroundings. She'd knock...which she did do at first but, why wait? Why let the years pile on as he shuffled his decrepit ass to the door? Why do that to herself. No. After the traditional 3 knocks she kicked his door down. Nope. No one. Not a soul present in his room. She'd spent the majority of her day looking for him. Beating poor arrancar to a bloody pulp until she knew his whereabouts. Miho was never much of a smooth operator when she was extreme levels of that deadly mixture of "bored" and "violent". Kuroi was off by himself.. and if Marc wasn't screwing (in ever sense of the word) with that miserable Septima then he probably went to the human world to prey on some poor, unfortunate pigeons to feed like a good old man. Y'know. Bread crumbs and shit.

She opened a garganta and stepped through. It opened up right smack in the middle of the disgusting town known as Karakura. Ah. So he was in the Human world. She had half a mind to rip him a new one... but that could wait. Marcelius' favorite little monster was out for training in the name of sating her boredom and need for power. Miho found herself at the mall and then she heard him speak. "I have nothing more to say to you..." Her walk over to him was hurried and aggressive. Miho paid no mind to her surroundings seeing as the only person she cared about right now was the blondie. "Yeah? Well I got plenty to say to you, daddy dearest." Her words sounded mildly sweet but her vocals dripped with caustic venom. She was pissed that she had to go look for him. She lightly shoved him to get his attention. "Where the fuck have you been, pops?! Been lookin' for your rotting ass all day. You know what that's like?!" She was aggravated for sure. Miho stopped directly in front of him, her back turned to practically... everything. She stood directly in front of him and scowled. "C'mon.'m bored and I wanna train." She said as she raised her hand, ready to open a garganta.

"You done playing around with shitty birds? Cause I wanna fuckin' leave."

[Deleted]

((As with Rin’s post, this is cinematic as hell. Unlike Rin’s post, this one is a complete and utter godmod, but it’s one that we’ve all agreed on to move things along. Yay for NDE!))

"I will not... Be the monster, that you wish me to be." What a shame… the demon was in denial. He was pinned to a wall, and his identity had been exposed. There was nothing he could have done to get himself out of this situation, for his identity was obvious enough, but it was clear that Yoko was stronger than any demon now. He was completely helpless, and all he could do at this point was make the girl question his motives. But that was enough to buy him more time. His response was curious… possibly even bizarre. Even in the face of otherwise certain death, he refused to show his true form. What could possibly drive him to that refusal?

"If the end result is your slaying me either way...then why would I want to die a monster?" That would do it. He was a corrupted demon. Well, corrupted wasn’t the right word, as that was inherently true of all demons. This one seemed to think that just because his body was human, that he was no longer a monster. Nonsense. He had the soul of a demon, and thus he was a demon. There were no ifs, ands, or buts about this, and Yoko made sure he understood that. [smear:00ff00]”You’ll die a monster either way. Your soul is tainted and blackened with the sins of your life. You will find neither mercy nor salvation just because you cause me to kill whatever innocent you have possessed. It only adds another sin to your list.”[/smear:007700]

"I have nothing more to say to you..."

"Yeah? Well I got plenty to say to you, daddy dearest."

What. The. Hell? ((Hue)) How had Yoko not noticed another demon sneaking up behind her? It was obvious this was a demon too. She had what looked like a fragment of bone growing on the side of her face. If that wasn’t a sign of her being a demon, not much was… but she’d also called this demon her father. She had admitted a familiar relationship with the spawn of the devil, and thus she too was one of his brood. It was now a two on one fight… but at least she looked weak. The first demon wasn’t much of a threat. He could resist Yoko’s spiritual power, but he didn’t seem to want a fight. That meant Yoko could focus on this newcomer.

"Where the fuck have you been, pops?! Been lookin' for your rotting ass all day. You know what that's like?!" The second demon literally walked right up to her father before continuing… which put her right besides Yoko. "C'mon.'m bored and I wanna train." And then she raised her hand… possibly to strike out… but the stance wasn’t violent. "You done playing around with shitty birds? Cause I wanna fuckin' leave." Those words were violent enough though, and it was another demon. There was only one course of action that could be taken here. Yoko released her grip on the male demon, and took a step backwards. Peace was not her goal here though. Her aim was much darker.

She took a second step, this one behind the female demon. With a pivot, she threw a round kick straight into the latest demon’s stomach. The difference in power was plenty, and the female demon dropped to her knees instantly. [smear:00ff00]”You’re not welcome here, demon.”[/smear:007700] A follow up axe kick to the back of her head dropped the demon into unconsciousness, but it wasn’t fatal. At worst, it would be a concussion. A few more steps backwards were taken so that there was distance between herself and the elder of the two demons. [smear:007700]”That is your fate in the world of mortals. You face your end at my hands, and nothing you can do will save your own life, or that of your supposed daughter. Now show me your form, demon, so that all the world will know that not even two of the devil’s minions can stand together against me.”[/smear:00ff00]

Reiatsu:1950/2000

[Marcelius]

OoC: These are getting so much harder for me to write... ;~; )

Once more, as the end drew nigh, the Arrancar would be bloodied but defiant. It did not matter if this young woman believed his words, or felt the pain which compelled them. She was still just a child in his eyes, and even her arrogance was not enough to change that. Any mistake of character that she might display, he could easily account with her age. How unfortunate then, that her character was so murderous. Still, even pinned to the wall with the threat of death breathing on his face...he was not going to break. So instead he prepared himself. His skin practically crawled with anticipation, shivering from head to toe. He did not wish for the demise which might come, nor was some strange form of masochism at work. What it really came down to was pride. Satisfaction, that regardless what she did to him, he would not set down his beliefs. It was a test, and he had passed. How many creatures spend their whole lives waiting for some such challenge to appear, so that they might finally know they are ready? Marc's had arrived, and he had risen to the occasion. Nothing, in heaven or hell, could take away what he had proven here today. So in the end, it would seem, Marcelius would be the true victo..."Miho?!"

Had he been deaf to the ominous noise of the gaping maw, he would still have felt that familiar soul step forward from the Gargantua. Black hair, as long and beautiful as the night, seemed to hover into their presence from the heart of darkness itself. Turning his head, eyes split open in a wide open stare; Marc had no words to address to her arrival. It would seem, speechless was a trait she did not share with him. As soon as she had come to his side, shoving the unsuspecting Yoko out of the way, she issued forth a torrent of agitation. The old man could only blink, still surprised to see her here. Yet his eyes still lit up to see her, the joy in each of the blue oculars could not be described with something as mundane as words. It had been her and Kuroi that he thought of in his final moments, and to actually see one of those two again before the end...utter relief. Had he found the words to say to her, he would still have lacked the heart to do so. He wanted her to know of the danger, and how much he appreciated her coming to look for him. He wanted her to know he had been here all day, for her sake. He wanted to show Yoko that he really did have a daughter, if not to gloat, then to strengthen his case that his soul was genuine. [smear:ffffff]Ah, but life does not work that way...does it old fool?[/smear:ff3300]

No sooner had he turned back towards his rival, to try and reason with her once more; time began to slow. It was the exact same feeling, that came at the end of one's life. Those precious seconds where all of the accomplishments and failures of the years before, play again for the soul to remember. Every opportunity grasped and every chance wasted. But that is where the similarities ended. Being a soul comprised of nothing but Remorse and manipulated emotions, the end of his life would be nothing more than the daily routine. Instead, when his perception slowed so that horror may fill his eyes, it was over the fate of his daughter. The hellion who was first to accept the sincerity of his affection. Seeing harm, of any kind, come to her...was worse than all the deaths he had died thus far. What came first was the harsh abrasion of a hostile mind. Not the sort of hostility that Miho’s presence usually spawns, this sound was much more focused. Instead of grating metal which tore and scratched the world around it, this was precise and it was regimented, more like clockwork.

Emanating from Yoko, the noise was too much for Marc to ignore; whether Miho was there or not. So he watched, with his breath held and his muscles tensed, as the swift rotary kick went barreling into his little girl’s abdomen. The were enough strength behind the blow, for even the father to hear. Having left her guard dropped, the attack appeared a complete surprise. Not simply on her face or in her crimson eyes, but in her sound as well. It was, unnerving. To listen as Miho’s thought screamed out in alarm, but not quickly enough to be saved. At least, to him it sounded as a scream. It was unlike her, really, to buckle under such pain. It was this thought that made him realize, it was not Miho’s mind which yelled in dismay...it was his own. Before his body could react, before his heart could recover from the scene before him; the lights of Miho’s fiery eyes went cold. Another kick, from that damnable Yoko...this one far more savage in nature. As the heel of her foot came crashing onto the weaker junction of Miho’s neck, Marc felt the last bit of consciousness spill from her mind. Like a candle being snuffed, there was only the wispy echos of her former rage. When...if she woke up, there would be so much hell to pay.

SPOILER: Click to show

{Not my little one...}

Such notions were no longer apart of him, however. Hope or optimism, both had died with the quieting of her precious sound. As Miho went silent, so too did her dear ol’ dad. the windbag had hushed himself, no more words to be spoken aloud or in silence. How wrong he had been, to think that before he had “nothing left to say”. All that time he spent playing morals’ advocate, that might as well have been a different person. What was left now, darker than all his desires for Yoko’s blood to be spilled and soul to be broken…[smear:ffffff]was his utter lack of sympathy. Sympathy, for all the errors that Miss Kusanagi had made in her speculation. Sympathy for all the good she aspired to be and accomplish. Sympathy for the life she held and all the potential which stretched out before it...all the accomplishments and benefit she might give back to the world. For the first time since he became aware of his calling...of his Remorse, he actually wanted to see someone’s future unmade. That feeling that comes, when a horrible tragedy takes place. The part of every soul which accounts for what was lost; whether it matters to them or not...he wanted to feel it weep. To hear all those souls inside of him crying out, telling him his cruelty as wrong. The heartless sensation which overcomes those without regret or penance for their...souls like Yoko...and Miho. He was craving it, dying for it. Like a dog salivating over unguarded meat. It was the same sensation that his little one always tried to find in him, but he would never allow her to see. It was Marcelius, being a Hollow.[/smear:ff3300]

The first thing to follow the cold, iron skin of Miho’s cheek hitting the floor...was a sudden burst of air and force. Towards the brat of a child, the heavy “corpse” of Marc’s Gigai would come spiraling like a rocket. Moving as fast as his strength could manage to throw, it traveled like a an unharnessed passenger in an automobile collision. Such motion and drive behind it, able to shatter through even tempered glass. Whether Yoko was skilled enough to dodge was questionable...but in the end meaningless to him. Honestly, he wanted the body to miss. Better yet, let her show her own strength and destroy it like any other form of oncoming attack. She believed the body to be a possession after all, what should he care if she tears apart his things. This sociopath was already so happy lying to herself...let it continue, let it grow worse and worse. For whatever she did decide, whether to run, to hide, maybe even to stand her ground...the elder Arrancar was already on the move. Using Sonido, and the rather keen ability he had to predict other’s movements; Marc intended her fist attack to do one thing in particular. Change the stage. The open forum of the malls lower floor, had lost all it’s appeal to him..mostly due to the Miho’s defenseless body still laid out. So he would use what speed he could muster in this burst, and lunge while Yoko was still responding to the body. Would she use that strange step she did before, she certainly could if she sensed him coming. But he would feel her energy building like it did before, only this time, there would not be any surprise.

In fact, he had heard too much of her song and the way it rose and fell, to know when and if she was going to dip into her reserve of reiatsu. Even better, was the will it takes to use reiatsu...which once again, he confirmed across the barrier of species. For any soul, living or otherwise, to make use of their pressure, thought has to occur. Whether sleight(hue) or vast, he would still hear. His efforts were simple enough in focus, easy and efficient. Traveling at such speed, he would not stop to make his next attack. There was not enough control left in him for that. Instead, he would aim and crash straight through her...on his way to the various stores beyond. This was far more like a tackle, one which would spear the smaller human through the air. Fortunately her people love to wall their businesses with glass instead of sturdy walls; certainly being carried through such a material would hurt far less. Such speculations would have irritated his usual mindset..right now, he just wanted the rush of smashing through something dense with her body as the ram. If the senior’s ploy would work, the two would find themselves far from his precious monster. If anything, this last motion was the final attempt of a caring father to be considerate of his child. Unfortunately, that mentality was being torn away inch by desperate inch as something else moved in. After breaking through the divider that separates them from the store, the elder would drive his foot into the floor. Cracks and ruptures would spawn, as he comes to an abrupt halt. As for his prey...she would be left to hurtle towards the wall opposite him, at the back of the store. Maybe she was flippy, and liked to cartwheel through the air? To that end he would normally wish her the best of luck, in trying to overpower both the strength and speed with which he intended to strike.

Pain, there would be no denying that his actions would cause pain. Loss of life, unlikely. An attitude as egotistical as Yoko’s must certainly have experience being thrown through windows or even into walls. She would get back up, better or worse...and find him coming after her again. With the training she has exhibited, and the sharpness he heard in her thoughts, he knew she would be able to at least read his assault. Maybe not all the details, maybe not even the most crucial ones. What she would know, without any kind of doubt, was that he had changed. Something was different than before, even if it was a fulfillment of her wild fantasies. Looking at him now, all the life was gone from his expression. His eyes were closed, almost resting...no indication of strain or force seemed to be keeping them shut. Unknown to her...unknown to most, this sort of act helped him. It eliminated the distractions and needles information of his worn out eyes. Instead, with the lids sealed, he could look through the scope of energy itself. In the darkness, he could see her feelings -all the fears and anger he wanted to hear in her- much more clearly. It could be thought, that he did not trully see...until his eyes were closed. His smile was gone, washed away by the transition of their plot. Instead their laid a frown, with the bottom lip seeming to quiver. Was...he on the verge of tearing up? She would need to be fast to find out, as another strike came barreling down from towards her. A massive shockwave of air and compression would disrupt what open space remained between them. Whatever products or displays might be set up, would go swirling into the mess. Whatever caught in it would find it hard, maybe, impossible to escape the confines of the boutique they now occupied.

It was caused by a sudden sweeping motion he made, from the right, to the left. Or left to right, from Yoko’s reversed perspective. In his hand, more likely to be see after the wave of destruction ebbed, was the gleam from his broadsword. Only appearing about 3 feet in length, the weapon was a third it’s reach in breadth. What had happened before, a tremendous output of force behind an object more accustomed to catching air resistance. Though the weapon seemed short for his stature, small for his newly discovered strength, he wielded it with both hands tightly clasped on the handle. His fingers and palms were gripping, almost throttling the tanned leather. Assuming he could keep the duress on her, then he would already be back at her side, preparing to lunge...this time with the tip of his blade. Though, it was not fair to call it a “tip”; for the end of the object was well leveled. It appeared more akin to the dull face of a hammer. Held to the left side of his body, arms bent inward at the knee to keep the tool level, it seemed he would slam the weapon forward, the smooth interior side of his blade, sliding dangerously close to his right bicep. This strike, if accurate, would drive straight into the chest of Miss Kusanagi. It would deliver a blow to the sternum, and crack every rib in the process. The result he pleaded and begged for above all others...was her inability to run away from him. Though no utterance came from his lips...every action he took seemed to reek with carnage.


Spiritual Exhaustion - 1/4
Physical Exhaustion - 1/8
Emotional Exhaustion - #DontTouchMyGirls

Remaining Reiatsu - 900/1500

-100 Sonido
-100 Sonido, this would follow the first; which tried to put Yoko in the store. This one is to move instantly to her side, for the jabbity.

Hierro Resonancia Active


(OoC: I am REALLY sorry about the delay, and REALLY hope nothing about my post is upseting in any way. D= )