tampered | (no subject)

(no subject)

When; April 8th, a bit later in the evening.
Rating; PG-13ish for fighting
Characters; Kuchiki Rukia

tiburonoculto, and a bit of Shihouin Yoruichi

goddes_of_flash
Summary; Di Roy thinks he can take advantage of the unseated shinigami's mental state. However, he underestimates what a powerful tool heartache can be.
Log;

She sighed as she sat on the edge of the sand, watching the water slide in and out, pushing wafting chunks of white foam up with it. As the orange ball of the sun sank slowly into the water, she tried to avoid remarking to herself that she should bring him here. Afterall...he wasn't here anymore. Rukia sighed again, hands caressing the comforting smoothness of Sode no Shirayuki's hilt. At least now, the pain was starting to dull, to turn itself back into that dull and raw ache that she was accustomed to. Maybe it was Hitsugaya-taichou's words that had helped, maybe she'd just needed time for things to sink in. Either way, at least this pain was something she knew how to deal with.

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Di Roy fairly rushed to the beach, riding sonido after sonido, feeling for Rukia's reiatsu. Her signature was the one he had most familiarized himself with since arriving in the City. He kept her location in the back of his mind, always, waiting for the opportunity for revenge to present itself.

And present itself it had. The ice bitch's guard dog had taken it upon himself to leave the City. Boss hadn't been too pleased; Di Roy knew he wanted a piece of the fake. But the sixteenth was close to being thrilled. Zaera-Polo had called him foolish for wanting to repay the unseated for their last meeting, especially since there were those who would come to her aid. But with the fake gone...

Di Roy sniggered with anticipation. Boss had said she could probably be found grieving over the fake's departure and Di Roy had graciously offered to put her out of her misery. It was just an added bonus that she would be out of his as well. He felt that the beach would be a good place for her to die, the images of himself slaughtering the unseated and watching her body float out to sea running rampant in his mind.

At last he drew up behind her, slowing and closing the distance between them with a few steps. "Well, well, well." He drew the words out, lacing each with hate and the want for revenge. "What do we have here?"

Despite the fact that her normal response might have been one of surprise, given the speed with which he had approached, she merely turned her head to glance over her shoulder at him with a somewhat bored expression.

"Di Roy. Anxious to die again, Arrancar?"

It had already been a bad day. Though the shock had worn off, and the pain dulled, it didn't mean she was in any sort of mood to deal with this today. Blueviolet eyes narrowed as a hand dropped to Sode no Shirayuki's hilt. If he thought her wits dulled due to her pain, the Numeros had another thing coming.

His face split into a jagged grin. "You remembered my name. Heh, I think I'm flattered." Di Roy remembered her name, too. And the name of that goddamned sword at her side.

Circling her slowly, he mirrored her movement, his hand coming to rest on his own blade. He finally faced her, the waves crashing at his back. He was anxious to see her body lost in the currents behind him. "But I don't think I got to introduce you to my zanpakutou. Looks like we're gonna have to fix that." He unsheathed his sword, the accompanying sound hanging in the air, metallic and chilling.

"Let's go, ice bitch."

Oh he did not just challange her. It was a shitty day, and she was definitely not in the mood for this.

So, you think you've picked an easy target? Think again, Arrancar.

With a snarl and a word, she vanished into a shunpo, reappearing beside him with a sideways slash of the white blade, ribbon whistling through the air. She'd been able to take him before, and now that she'd spent so long training, honing her skills and acquiring new ones, she had no plans to go easy on the numeros. He had chosen a bad opponent. Thought to use her feelings against her, take advantage of her pain. What he'd gotten instead, was a vicious fight. Pain, taken and redirected, filtered and sharpened into resolve and a reckless abandon to unleash all of her hurt and frustration at the convenient target in front of her. And the fact that he didn't even realize that he no longer knew what her skills were, just made it all the more...enjoyable to grind the sneering visage into the ground.

"Nice try, freak." He raised his blade to meet hers, ready for the satisfying clang and resounding vibration of metal against metal. He'd prefer to feel her flesh give way beneath the sharpened steel, but no need to rush things. He took a moment to relish in the weakness of her attack. Maybe she'd get all weepy while they were fighting. That would be something to tell Boss when he was done with her, that she didn't do a damned thing but cry for her precious strawberry.

He leaned in a close as he could, the crossed zanpakutou the only barrier between them. "But you had better have something more than that tired shit. Old tricks are boring."

With a sneer, she regarded him from over the blades. Tired shit, huh? Well, he was certainly in for a surprise. She knew pefectly well how much faster she'd become since training with Yoruichi, and while Renji might have been able to follow her moves by virtue of the long time he'd spent watching her brother, she doubted that the Arrancar would be as lucky.

Giving a push against his zanpakutou with her own blade, she twisted Sode no Shirayuki, pushing his blade aside as one glowing hand latched onto the top edge of the helmet he wore.

"Oh don't worry. I'm definitely not holding back, Arrancar. Shakkahou!"

It was one of the things she'd practiced until her fingers bled. The ability to fire off one or two kidou without an incantation. And while it certainly wasn't an easy skill, she could at least manage some of the lower-level offensive spells that way.

Shit.

Di Roy glanced up at her glowing hand, firmly attatched to the remnants of bone mask on his head. Even if he twisted out of her grip, she'd probably still catch him with whatever spell shit she was doing. ... Unless he caught her first.

With one hand he reached up, fiercely gripping her wrist. With the other he pulled back the draped cloth on one side of the Hollow's mask. Where there should have been an eye, there was nothing, and from within the darkness of a empty socket, he readied a cero.

"Hope you said goodbye to your strawberry, bitch," he spat, tightening the hold on her wrist. She was obscenely close. If she could survive or dodge a cero blast from only inches away, she'd be damned lucky.

"Hn. He doesn't do goodbyes, Numeros. Because he always comes back."

Mindful of his grip on her wrist, she bent her knees and pushed, sending her body twisting in an upward flip motion, back arching up over his head as she fired the kidou. She knew it would burn her hand, perhaps badly, but that was certainly preferable to death. With her other hand, she wrenched Sode no Shirayuki free, spinning the blade around and aiming the sharp point for the back of his neck, intending to strike from the rear while her kidou pushed him back into the sword.

He leaned into the force of the kidou, taking it rather than letting it push him back, using his raised blade to try and deflect what little he could. Which wasn't much. He took the brunt of the blast, but preferred that over stepping back into whatever trick she had planned.

The cero he had charged burned for release. Damn it. He let the cero fire uselessly into the air before him. From the feel of the tugs on his mask, he knew that she was behind him, and he'd be damned if he was going to keep his back turned on her.

He twisted to face her, finding her blade mere inches from his face. "Looks like old freaks can learn new tricks." He lifted his zanpakutou to meet hers letting the sharpened edge ping slightly against the white of her weapon. "What the hell happened to all that ice shit of yours?"

"Oh, you mean this?"

Shifting the blade so the edge glissaded against his with a ringing noise, she whispered the command, a glimmer of twisted glee in her eyes. She wanted to hurt him. This wasn't just about not dying. No, she wanted to hurt, to inflict pain, to make him suffer. And for what? For daring to invade her space, to taunt and attack her during a time when she wanted solitude, for existing. For Ichigo, for Inoue, for every hurt and wound that any other Hollow or Arrancar had ever inflicted upon her or those she cared for.

"Tsugi no Mai. Hakuren."

Twisting the white blade again, she sent the rush of ice surging from the blade at nearly point-blank range.

He took the frozen attack in his shoulder, an attempt to dodge it failing completely. Di Roy had never been one of the most adept at combat, and his reflexes were sometimes lacking. "Stupid bitch!"

Blood blossomed on the white of his clothing and he clutched at the injured shoulder, muttering various curses under his breath. He tightened his grip on his zanpakutou and winced, having to change his hold to the uninjured arm. Clearing his mind of the pain, he lunged at the unseated, deadly blade before him. He didn't care where his blade met her, so long as it did. Any cut would do, any blood she would possibly bleed, so long as it was was spilt rather than flowing through her veins.

She cursed as she felt the sharpened edge of the blade bite into her shoulder and rake down, cutting a deep rent across the top of her shoulder and partway down her chest. She'd gotten cocky. Overconfident.

Stupid, Rukia. Stop showing off and just finish him already. You did it before and barely broke a sweat, why are you toying with him now and risking injury?

But even as she mentally chided herself, she knew perfectly well why she was doing it. Because right now, her heart wasn't set on finishing this. It was set on him and how much she wanted him back and how much she wanted to hurt something, just so that maybe inflicting that pain would make her own pain lessen in some way.

Taking advantage of the fact that he was still so close, she sent Shirayuki carving through the air towards the hand that held his sword. If she could take out THAT arm too, then he'd be in a precarious predicament.

The feel of steel through flesh, muscle, and bone- He could feel it reverberate through the blade and into his arm. Much more satisfying than the jarring ring of steel against steel. He pulled the sword from her, making sure to force the blade deeper in her shoulder as he did so.

The blade was suddenly weightless as he pulled back for another strike, the heavy hilt feeling lighter than it should. Abruptly aware of a searing pain, he flexed his hand, closing on nothing but air. A glance confirmed what he feared. More than half of his hand had been torn away by her blade. His own sword lie a few feet away, crimson-stained sand gathering around the hilt.

He took a step back, unarmed, injured, and prone before the unseated.

Gritting her teeth slightly against the sting of torn flesh, she leveled an amethyst gaze at him, Sode no Shirayuki held out in front of her. She could feel the slow drip of warm blood down her back and arm from the wound, and knew that it would be something she'd need to see to Isane about.

Rukia allowed the slight grin to form on her face as she took a step towards the Numeros, watching as he backed away. She'd beaten him, whether he lay bloodied on the ground or not. The undertones of shock and surprise were there in his one eye, and they gave him away.

Holding up her free hand, she quickly traced the pattern of the kidou through the air.

"Hadou no Rokujuusan: Souten Soukatsui!"

With a pulse of energy the twin beacons of blue fire spiraled towards him. She watched, panting slightly. That kidou was a higher level one then those she usually tended towards, and in her current state it had taken more energy then she'd expected.

He hadn't planned to run. He didn't want to, but he wasn't about to die again, especially not at her hand. And with both arms injured and out of commission, there was jack shit he could do to her now.

As he turned and reached down for his sword, he could feel the kidou singe his clothing and burn his back. He painfully retrieved the blade with his one remaining hand, the injured shoulder screaming in protest. Righting himself again to face her, he fairly spat at her, "Nice playing with you, freak," before he turned, and ran.

As much as she wanted to go after him, to rend him with her blade to appease that thirst, she instead simply stood and watched him. Grimacing as she felt the sticky wetness of blood cling to her skin, she flexed her elbow, hissing slightly as the wound protested.

Violet eyes narrowed slightly, their expression weathered and hardened as she watched his retreating form. Turning to gaze at the sun as it set over the water, she allowed herself a wry smile.

"Come to make sure I don't go overboard again, sensei?"

The black cat dipped it's head slightly, sinuous tail uncoiling as haunches raised and it walked towards her.

"At least this time you seem to have controlled that desire for bloodletting a bit more. And you managed not to waste all your energy at once."

Hopping up onto the edge of the stone wall that seperated the sandy shores from the streets, Yoruichi began absently scratching her ear with one hind foot. After a moment, slitted yellow eyes rested themselves on the horizon to match views with the girl.

"That being the case, are you alright, Rukia?"

She didn't have to specify, she knew perfectly well that the dark-haired shinigami would understand that she spoke as much of the fight as she did of Ichigo's leaving.

A slight nod was the response Yoruichi got, as Rukia resealed her zanpakutou and carefully resheathed the blade. Leaning slightly against the wall beside the ebony-hued feline, she closed her eyes again, letting the warm breeze ruffle her hair.

She was alright. It hurt, certainly, and...she couldn't deny that there was a part of her that wanted to break down. To curl up in the corner of what had been his bed and simply cry until she ran out of tears. But....she couldn't give into that part, she wouldn't. If only because...Ichigo wouldn't want her to. In fact, were he to see her in that state, he'd scoff, roll his eyes, and tell her to quick being such a "fuckin wimp" about things.

"Yeah.....I'm alright. Because....I'll see him again, Yoruichi-sensei."

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