006 - [Broadcast Mind]
[You know a bad day is definitely getting worse when you suddenly find yourself in a bind.
Literally.
Kuchiki Byakuya is way too fucking good at kidou and now that you’re stuck in Bakudou number 61: Six Rods Prison of Light, unable to move at all while your newly-acquired Bankai lay coiled around you in a sad show of protectiveness (although what good will a zanpakutou do when the wielder cannot give direction?), it’s obvious how screwed you are.
So you achieved Bankai, so what? What he says is true, about how yours is still premature, even if you don’t admit it to his face. You won’t give him that satisfaction, even though you’re sure he’s going to gain so much more in a few minutes, the bastard.
And then he draws his own zanpakutou, reminding you that he, too, has Bankai, and he doesn’t have to explain that his is refined and battle-ready. You know it’s deadly and precise, just like everything else about your captain, and your heart begins to race painfully fast. Your ribcage aches with the effort of keeping the beating organ inside.
Byakuya points his blade toward the ground and lets go, trusting the ground beneath his feet to swallow it up, as it always does, before the world around you darkens. “Bankai.”
The pounding in your ears echoes like a drum announcing your execution.
Larger blades rise from the ground on either side of him, while he doesn’t even flinch with what he’s about to do. He shows no emotion, but you wish you had the right one to feel at that second. You don’t, of course, and that is one more failing to add to the ever-growing list. “Scatter, Senbonzakura Kageyoshi.” The blades immediately break apart to form his trademark sakura petals, though you know they are as sharp as any sword, if not sharper. Light glints off of the countless number as they swarm around you, entrapping you in a sea of pink.
You are not afraid of death, but your spirit body shivers with the knowledge of its fate.
And then, in that blinding pink haze, it’s over. You don’t feel it at first, overwhelmed by the sudden rush of everything, but when the petal-blades dissipate, and Byakuya’s kidou shatters, you start to comprehend.
It’s a sharp pain, like a nasty papercut. He’s cut your arm - no, there’s another place, your cheek, perhaps. Or was it your thigh? Oh God, even your back and chest feel sliced.
…No. No, it’s all apparent, now, as blood begins to roll down your face, as you begin to taste it pooling in your mouth. He’s killed you. He’s killed you.
And as that truth crosses your mind, the desperate wait is over. Your entire body has been assaulted by those blades and it can no longer keep your precious blood inside. It is broken. Blood gushes out from every wound, taking most of your life with it, and you fall unceremoniously to your knees, and then completely to the ground. Your red hair has been cut loose from its tie and it flows over the ground as you lay there, as blood continues to seep from your cuts. You’re drowning in it, blood and red, and all you can do is reach for that final red thread of life.
Somehow, somehow, it seems to be within your reach.]
Literally.
Kuchiki Byakuya is way too fucking good at kidou and now that you’re stuck in Bakudou number 61: Six Rods Prison of Light, unable to move at all while your newly-acquired Bankai lay coiled around you in a sad show of protectiveness (although what good will a zanpakutou do when the wielder cannot give direction?), it’s obvious how screwed you are.
So you achieved Bankai, so what? What he says is true, about how yours is still premature, even if you don’t admit it to his face. You won’t give him that satisfaction, even though you’re sure he’s going to gain so much more in a few minutes, the bastard.
And then he draws his own zanpakutou, reminding you that he, too, has Bankai, and he doesn’t have to explain that his is refined and battle-ready. You know it’s deadly and precise, just like everything else about your captain, and your heart begins to race painfully fast. Your ribcage aches with the effort of keeping the beating organ inside.
Byakuya points his blade toward the ground and lets go, trusting the ground beneath his feet to swallow it up, as it always does, before the world around you darkens. “Bankai.”
The pounding in your ears echoes like a drum announcing your execution.
Larger blades rise from the ground on either side of him, while he doesn’t even flinch with what he’s about to do. He shows no emotion, but you wish you had the right one to feel at that second. You don’t, of course, and that is one more failing to add to the ever-growing list. “Scatter, Senbonzakura Kageyoshi.” The blades immediately break apart to form his trademark sakura petals, though you know they are as sharp as any sword, if not sharper. Light glints off of the countless number as they swarm around you, entrapping you in a sea of pink.
You are not afraid of death, but your spirit body shivers with the knowledge of its fate.
And then, in that blinding pink haze, it’s over. You don’t feel it at first, overwhelmed by the sudden rush of everything, but when the petal-blades dissipate, and Byakuya’s kidou shatters, you start to comprehend.
It’s a sharp pain, like a nasty papercut. He’s cut your arm - no, there’s another place, your cheek, perhaps. Or was it your thigh? Oh God, even your back and chest feel sliced.
…No. No, it’s all apparent, now, as blood begins to roll down your face, as you begin to taste it pooling in your mouth. He’s killed you. He’s killed you.
And as that truth crosses your mind, the desperate wait is over. Your entire body has been assaulted by those blades and it can no longer keep your precious blood inside. It is broken. Blood gushes out from every wound, taking most of your life with it, and you fall unceremoniously to your knees, and then completely to the ground. Your red hair has been cut loose from its tie and it flows over the ground as you lay there, as blood continues to seep from your cuts. You’re drowning in it, blood and red, and all you can do is reach for that final red thread of life.
Somehow, somehow, it seems to be within your reach.]