[open]
Characters: Hollow Ichigo and anyone who sees Watanuki's post and decides to help.
Content: Ichigo won. Trouble is, he's not quite himself anymore.
Setting: The same shounen desert as the Bradley fight log immediately preceding this one.
Time: Right after the aforementioned log.
Warnings: Hollow Ichigo being a creeper, violence, whatever else you bring with you. Really, it's up to you how this goes.
A howl of victory echoed off the mountains.
That was the best battle the Hollow had ever had. Finding someone else who understood that nothing but the battle mattered -- someone as strong as Bradley -- and then defeating them?
He'd never felt stronger.
Sure, the one against the Jagers had been pretty damn good, too, but that one had been meant to distract him while his host fought him inside his head. This one, he'd been able to give his all to.
It was almost a shame the creature at his feet was dead now. There was no way Bradley couldn't be dead. He was a fucking mess. Blood everywhere, missing limbs, a missing eye -- it would turn the stomach of a weaker creature.
The hollow just wiped the blood off its mask with its one remaining human arm and turned away. It didn't look too good, either. Oh, sure, it was injured a bit, but the blood was the least of Ichigo's problems. You see, the hollow had lost a few limbs in the battle as well, but when Ichigo's hollow lost limbs, they grew back -- monstrously. His left arm was human. His right was white, hard-skinned, and tipped with claws. His clothes were ripped (like that mattered), and just as monstrous legs had torn through what was left of his trousers.
He sniffed the air.
That's right. I nearly forgot. What with all the excitement, the Hollow had nearly let the boy with the delicious blood slip away.
Pinpointing the direction Watanuki had gone, the creature followed the scent at a dash. He had a glorious future ahead of him. Reial was full of strong people just waiting to be battled, and with Watanuki's blood augmenting the adrenaline and sheer killing instinct that coursed through his body, who knew what he couldn't do?
He wouldn't bother asking for blood this time. Just biting off a hand should do.
Content: Ichigo won. Trouble is, he's not quite himself anymore.
Setting: The same shounen desert as the Bradley fight log immediately preceding this one.
Time: Right after the aforementioned log.
Warnings: Hollow Ichigo being a creeper, violence, whatever else you bring with you. Really, it's up to you how this goes.
A howl of victory echoed off the mountains.
That was the best battle the Hollow had ever had. Finding someone else who understood that nothing but the battle mattered -- someone as strong as Bradley -- and then defeating them?
He'd never felt stronger.
Sure, the one against the Jagers had been pretty damn good, too, but that one had been meant to distract him while his host fought him inside his head. This one, he'd been able to give his all to.
It was almost a shame the creature at his feet was dead now. There was no way Bradley couldn't be dead. He was a fucking mess. Blood everywhere, missing limbs, a missing eye -- it would turn the stomach of a weaker creature.
The hollow just wiped the blood off its mask with its one remaining human arm and turned away. It didn't look too good, either. Oh, sure, it was injured a bit, but the blood was the least of Ichigo's problems. You see, the hollow had lost a few limbs in the battle as well, but when Ichigo's hollow lost limbs, they grew back -- monstrously. His left arm was human. His right was white, hard-skinned, and tipped with claws. His clothes were ripped (like that mattered), and just as monstrous legs had torn through what was left of his trousers.
He sniffed the air.
That's right. I nearly forgot. What with all the excitement, the Hollow had nearly let the boy with the delicious blood slip away.
Pinpointing the direction Watanuki had gone, the creature followed the scent at a dash. He had a glorious future ahead of him. Reial was full of strong people just waiting to be battled, and with Watanuki's blood augmenting the adrenaline and sheer killing instinct that coursed through his body, who knew what he couldn't do?
He wouldn't bother asking for blood this time. Just biting off a hand should do.