Post by Zeich Yajuu on Aug 4, 2015 23:03:00 GMT -5
Pain. Pain filled Zeich's body and overrode any other sensation, both physical and emotional. The slow burn of exhaustion, the feelings of hope and confidence, the dizziness and increasingly frequent blurriness of his vision; all of these disappeared as pain blossomed into existence, filling every portion of his body, setting every nerve on fire and nearly dropping him to his knees. He choked back a cry, made difficult as blades erupted from his torso, tearing through his insides and limbs, ripping him apart. Part of his mind knew that he was here in spirit, not physically, and so he wasn't quite dying from such a grievous wound; once this battle ended and he returned to control of his body, he'd probably take a little while to recover, and things would be back to normal. But that part of his mind was drowned out as every fiber of his being screamed in pain, with flesh and bone alike torn apart by white blades ripping through his form. How had this happened?
His blades had inflicted severe damage to the Hollow, tearing through its body and ripping it apart. But despite the heavy damage, the creature had barely flinched, and it had seemed hardly fazed by the damage. In fact, it had seemed pleased as it complimented Zeich's attack. It had been ruthless, something suited to a Hollow, yet performed with a precision that was not seen in the feral mindset of most Hollows. But the Shadow had not fallen, and blood had not erupted from its wounds. Despite the grievous injuries that should have been done to it, the creature had simply stood there, smiling as it waited for him to fall. Why hadn't it worked? Why wasn't the Shadow collapsing even as Zeich felt ready to do? Why did it stand there with that grin on its face, as if amused by the fatal blow that had erupted from its body?
Yet of the two, only Zeich felt the pain, felt his body ready to give out as he stood there, shock being the only thing keeping him on his feet. His vision blurred again, and this time it didn't refocus, leaving the Shadow as a white mass against a backdrop of gray. He tried to reach out, his hands grasping for something... his mind fogged as he tried to do so, before realizing after a few slow moments that his arms weren't acting on his desire to move them, hanging limp to either side. Slowly his head swung from one side to the other, eyes dimly taking in the ruined mass of his arms. They were barely recognizable as such from the blades that had torn out of them, leaving flesh and muscle peeled away, revealing shards of shattered gray-white bone that jutted out unnaturally. Blood flowed across those tattered wrecks, dripping from twisted fingers and pooling on the ground beneath his feet, far beyond the range of his hazy vision.
It was a wonder he was even standing. The blades tearing through his body were doing a remarkable job of serving as an interim spine, supporting his body's mass and keeping him from simply collapsing upon himself. He could breathe, but every breath was shallow, risking tearing his lungs further as he struggled to draw air into them. His legs shook, the blood flowing from his body leaving him feeling light-headed and weak, but he forced his knees to lock through some sheer effort of willpower, keeping him standing. It wouldn't last for long, however; blood loss would kick in soon enough, and he would collapse from weakness as his muscles didn't receive precious oxygen needed to keep them sturdy. Any moment now, he would fall...
But before he fell, he would end things. Only Zeich's willpower kept him standing for a few moments even as the shock began to fade and the pain washed over him like a wave. The first step was almost the last as he felt the rippling shock throughout his body, the vibrations of even taking that one stumbling, staggering step sent fresh fire flowing through every nerve in his body. The world spun, and for a moment he felt his balance disappear, the ground rushing up to meet him. That impact was almost the end, and hitting the ground made him feel as though he had been stabbed a thousand times more as the blades of ash broke and splintered upon hitting the ground, the remaining fragments being shoved roughly into his body and further exacerbating his existing injuries.
Yet he refused to stay down. Drawing upon his mental faculties, Zeich summoned his ash to him, and it formed the bonds of Haiiro Gokusha, the binding bandages wrapping roughly around his arms. There was no time to be gentle or careful, not if he wanted to subjugate his Inner Hollow before he passed out. The bindings disappeared into twin clouds of ash that began to take on solid shapes, canine figures that were formed from the former Shinigami's subconscious. Soon, two large wolves made purely of ash rose from the clouds, the bindings wrapped around Zeich's arms held in their mouths. As they strode forward, they provided a support for the man to pull himself to his feet, doing his best to tune out the agonizing pain that filled every ounce of his body.
Zeich felt so tired, and he wanted to just close his eyes and fall into sleep. A rattling cough echoed from his lungs as a small amount of blood began to pool, and flecks of red stained his lips, yet he refused to give in. Willpower was all he had left, when physical strength had left him; he continued forward, his body a mix of fire and molten steel in sensation, hurting to the point where he almost didn't feel pain anymore. He just felt dead. That was the only way to describe it; Zeich was sure that he had been killed at this point, and he was just prolonging his last moments. But all he needed were those moments. All he had to do was get a bit closer, to end this by his own hands...
I'm... almost there... Indeed, the Shadow's outline was growing more distinct as Zeich drew closer. The Hollow hadn't moved, but then again, the creature had said that, at this point, one last strike would end things. But who would it end in favor of, he had to wonder; Zeich wasn't sure if he could land that last attack. He knew he could call upon Haiiro's ash to summon a blade and strike with it, but... something about that felt wrong. Something about keeping his distance felt wrong. No. The former Shinigami, the Vizard to be, had to move forward himself and seize his future with his own hands, no matter how short that future may be. And that was why he let himself be half-dragged forward until he was within striking distance of the Shadow.
“So... this finally ends now...” Zeich's words were faint, his voice weak as he coughed for air. “Never thought... I'd see you be subjugated. I expected... a fight to the death...” The two wolves disappeared, and the ash that had made them up before flowed up along the bindings, and covered his arms. Each of them made the flesh whole, covering it with a layer of gray that would guide and puppet his arms for him. If he could not fight with his arms, then he would fight with every ounce of willpower left in his soul, and force his body forward for one last attack. He could, in a way, feel the essence of those two spirits within him; Ventus, the wolf now known as Haiiro, flowed within his left arm, a symbol of the hand that would now hold his new vessel in combat. Polaris, though lost, flowed through his right arm, a symbol of what once was.
Past and present were as one in his grip, and even as his arms were temporarily bound, a pair of katana formed in his hands. The first was a thinner, whip-like blade, one that could slice and flay through a man's flesh with thin, quick lashes. The other was a solid-looking sword with a serrated edge, one that was meant to tear and cut in powerful blows. Both were symbols of the power he had once possessed, a power that still dwelt within him; though he lacked the ability to call upon their former abilities, their will, their desire to live that they sparked within him, were enough. And with those blades drawn in his hand, Zeich struck, bringing both swords downwards to slice into the Shadow's body, the weapons cutting into the Hollow's shoulders and tearing down into the chest in one final hit.
That was all the strength that Zeich had left in him as he slumped forward, practically collapsing on the Hollow that he had just struck down, the two leaning against one another. He spoke softly, almost tiredly; he wanted to just close his eyes and be done with it, but he had something to say, first. “Now, Shadow... I have two things to say to you.... first, you... you and I will be one. That is not a request, or a suggestion; that is an order, as your master.” He took a deep, shuddering breath, fighting back another cough. “And then second... I want you to tell me your name. No longer will you hide in the shadows... or use Haiiro's name for your power... I want... I want to know who you are. Tell me your name, for when I call upon you in the future.”
With that, Zeich's Bankai ended. The ash that had made up his Release until then drew itself into a single point, withdrawing itself from the man's body, the Shadow's form, and the air around until it finally formed a single sword that fell to the ground. Zeich's Zanpaktou fell to the ground behind him, clattering loudly in the silence that followed his last words. No longer would his spiritual powers be bound by a name that was not theirs; until he spoke his Zanpaktou's new name, it would remain sealed. That was a price Zeich was willing to pay as he asked for the Shadow's true name, as he would need it to use his powers from then on. No longer would he chain himself to the past. Haiiro was now a spirit dwelling within the second sword at his hip instead of the Zanpaktou that sat opposite it. It was time to move on.
And it would all start with that name.
His blades had inflicted severe damage to the Hollow, tearing through its body and ripping it apart. But despite the heavy damage, the creature had barely flinched, and it had seemed hardly fazed by the damage. In fact, it had seemed pleased as it complimented Zeich's attack. It had been ruthless, something suited to a Hollow, yet performed with a precision that was not seen in the feral mindset of most Hollows. But the Shadow had not fallen, and blood had not erupted from its wounds. Despite the grievous injuries that should have been done to it, the creature had simply stood there, smiling as it waited for him to fall. Why hadn't it worked? Why wasn't the Shadow collapsing even as Zeich felt ready to do? Why did it stand there with that grin on its face, as if amused by the fatal blow that had erupted from its body?
Yet of the two, only Zeich felt the pain, felt his body ready to give out as he stood there, shock being the only thing keeping him on his feet. His vision blurred again, and this time it didn't refocus, leaving the Shadow as a white mass against a backdrop of gray. He tried to reach out, his hands grasping for something... his mind fogged as he tried to do so, before realizing after a few slow moments that his arms weren't acting on his desire to move them, hanging limp to either side. Slowly his head swung from one side to the other, eyes dimly taking in the ruined mass of his arms. They were barely recognizable as such from the blades that had torn out of them, leaving flesh and muscle peeled away, revealing shards of shattered gray-white bone that jutted out unnaturally. Blood flowed across those tattered wrecks, dripping from twisted fingers and pooling on the ground beneath his feet, far beyond the range of his hazy vision.
It was a wonder he was even standing. The blades tearing through his body were doing a remarkable job of serving as an interim spine, supporting his body's mass and keeping him from simply collapsing upon himself. He could breathe, but every breath was shallow, risking tearing his lungs further as he struggled to draw air into them. His legs shook, the blood flowing from his body leaving him feeling light-headed and weak, but he forced his knees to lock through some sheer effort of willpower, keeping him standing. It wouldn't last for long, however; blood loss would kick in soon enough, and he would collapse from weakness as his muscles didn't receive precious oxygen needed to keep them sturdy. Any moment now, he would fall...
But before he fell, he would end things. Only Zeich's willpower kept him standing for a few moments even as the shock began to fade and the pain washed over him like a wave. The first step was almost the last as he felt the rippling shock throughout his body, the vibrations of even taking that one stumbling, staggering step sent fresh fire flowing through every nerve in his body. The world spun, and for a moment he felt his balance disappear, the ground rushing up to meet him. That impact was almost the end, and hitting the ground made him feel as though he had been stabbed a thousand times more as the blades of ash broke and splintered upon hitting the ground, the remaining fragments being shoved roughly into his body and further exacerbating his existing injuries.
Yet he refused to stay down. Drawing upon his mental faculties, Zeich summoned his ash to him, and it formed the bonds of Haiiro Gokusha, the binding bandages wrapping roughly around his arms. There was no time to be gentle or careful, not if he wanted to subjugate his Inner Hollow before he passed out. The bindings disappeared into twin clouds of ash that began to take on solid shapes, canine figures that were formed from the former Shinigami's subconscious. Soon, two large wolves made purely of ash rose from the clouds, the bindings wrapped around Zeich's arms held in their mouths. As they strode forward, they provided a support for the man to pull himself to his feet, doing his best to tune out the agonizing pain that filled every ounce of his body.
Zeich felt so tired, and he wanted to just close his eyes and fall into sleep. A rattling cough echoed from his lungs as a small amount of blood began to pool, and flecks of red stained his lips, yet he refused to give in. Willpower was all he had left, when physical strength had left him; he continued forward, his body a mix of fire and molten steel in sensation, hurting to the point where he almost didn't feel pain anymore. He just felt dead. That was the only way to describe it; Zeich was sure that he had been killed at this point, and he was just prolonging his last moments. But all he needed were those moments. All he had to do was get a bit closer, to end this by his own hands...
I'm... almost there... Indeed, the Shadow's outline was growing more distinct as Zeich drew closer. The Hollow hadn't moved, but then again, the creature had said that, at this point, one last strike would end things. But who would it end in favor of, he had to wonder; Zeich wasn't sure if he could land that last attack. He knew he could call upon Haiiro's ash to summon a blade and strike with it, but... something about that felt wrong. Something about keeping his distance felt wrong. No. The former Shinigami, the Vizard to be, had to move forward himself and seize his future with his own hands, no matter how short that future may be. And that was why he let himself be half-dragged forward until he was within striking distance of the Shadow.
“So... this finally ends now...” Zeich's words were faint, his voice weak as he coughed for air. “Never thought... I'd see you be subjugated. I expected... a fight to the death...” The two wolves disappeared, and the ash that had made them up before flowed up along the bindings, and covered his arms. Each of them made the flesh whole, covering it with a layer of gray that would guide and puppet his arms for him. If he could not fight with his arms, then he would fight with every ounce of willpower left in his soul, and force his body forward for one last attack. He could, in a way, feel the essence of those two spirits within him; Ventus, the wolf now known as Haiiro, flowed within his left arm, a symbol of the hand that would now hold his new vessel in combat. Polaris, though lost, flowed through his right arm, a symbol of what once was.
Past and present were as one in his grip, and even as his arms were temporarily bound, a pair of katana formed in his hands. The first was a thinner, whip-like blade, one that could slice and flay through a man's flesh with thin, quick lashes. The other was a solid-looking sword with a serrated edge, one that was meant to tear and cut in powerful blows. Both were symbols of the power he had once possessed, a power that still dwelt within him; though he lacked the ability to call upon their former abilities, their will, their desire to live that they sparked within him, were enough. And with those blades drawn in his hand, Zeich struck, bringing both swords downwards to slice into the Shadow's body, the weapons cutting into the Hollow's shoulders and tearing down into the chest in one final hit.
That was all the strength that Zeich had left in him as he slumped forward, practically collapsing on the Hollow that he had just struck down, the two leaning against one another. He spoke softly, almost tiredly; he wanted to just close his eyes and be done with it, but he had something to say, first. “Now, Shadow... I have two things to say to you.... first, you... you and I will be one. That is not a request, or a suggestion; that is an order, as your master.” He took a deep, shuddering breath, fighting back another cough. “And then second... I want you to tell me your name. No longer will you hide in the shadows... or use Haiiro's name for your power... I want... I want to know who you are. Tell me your name, for when I call upon you in the future.”
With that, Zeich's Bankai ended. The ash that had made up his Release until then drew itself into a single point, withdrawing itself from the man's body, the Shadow's form, and the air around until it finally formed a single sword that fell to the ground. Zeich's Zanpaktou fell to the ground behind him, clattering loudly in the silence that followed his last words. No longer would his spiritual powers be bound by a name that was not theirs; until he spoke his Zanpaktou's new name, it would remain sealed. That was a price Zeich was willing to pay as he asked for the Shadow's true name, as he would need it to use his powers from then on. No longer would he chain himself to the past. Haiiro was now a spirit dwelling within the second sword at his hip instead of the Zanpaktou that sat opposite it. It was time to move on.
And it would all start with that name.