05-26-2018, 12:57 AM
“Looks like we’ve got another.”
“Never a dull moment.”
A pair of stormtroopers had paused their patrol to analyze the new arrival from afar. He had appeared as most Primes did, popping into existence precisely when one was not paying attention, as if Omni were hiding his machinations from voyeuristic onlookers. The Fountain had just recently shifted form--as it so often did-taking the shape of a shabby-looking stone building outfitted with an enormous spinning fixture. This bit of antiquity was as foreign to the troopers as the garb of the newcomer.
“Your turn to give the recruitment speech,” the first trooper asserted, cautiously leveling his blaster at the windmill. “Hopefully this one’s calmer than some of the other recent arrivals.”
As the pair of soldiers looked on from across the Nexus, the fountain-fresh shinigami began to stir from his slumber. He struggled briefly against the tangles of his Shihakushō, eventually raising himself to a seated position and slowly opening his heavy eyelids. The Captain yawned as he glanced around, taking in what little there was to his surroundings. He did not remember falling asleep, though one rarely does.
“Where…” the death god rasped, gazing off toward the nondescript horizon. As far as he could tell, he was sitting smack in the middle of nothing.
Kenpachi Zaraki climbed slowly to his feet, dusting off his haori as he searched for any clues of where he had wound up. A glance over his shoulder revealed a windmill, its canvas blades spinning lazily without the assistance of any noticeable wind. Aside from this lone edifice, nothing of note offered itself for inspection. Where exactly had he wound up now?
“So much white,” the newcomer grumbled, glancing at the windmill as if it might reply. “Did I end up in Hueco Mundo?” His hand instinctively fell to his side as his eye left the millhouse to scan for threats, pausing as his fingers failed to find their quarry. “...Where’s my sword?”
Zaraki’s lips contorted into a scowl as he glanced down at his obi, noting that he indeed seemed to be short one nodachi; not even the sheath remained. A quick investigation of the nondescript ground/floor at his feet yielded no results, to his chagrin. “ ‘Ey, Yachiru…” He stopped short as he glanced first over one shoulder, then the other. “Dammit, now where’d you run off to…?”
The swordless swordsman heaved an aggravated sigh as he shook the last remnants of fatigue from his body. That girl loved to mess with him, that was for sure. Knowing her, she’d probably ran off to torment some puny Hollow and taken his sword with her. If only he had ever bothered to even learn to sense reiryoku, he would at least know in which direction she’s scampered off. “This is really pissin’ me off,” the shinigami muttered, striding toward the windmill. “Maybe if I jump up there…”
“KENNY!”
Kenpachi winced as the familiar excited squeak of his subordinate met his ears. Before he could leap to a higher vantage point, the pink-haired girl came racing toward him from behind the windmill. She dragged his sword behind her, his weapon lacking the benefit of the tiny pair of wheels that her own sheathed katana bore, likewise dangling behind her as she ran. Her eyes bore a look more closely akin to confusion or concern than mischief. “There you are,” the shaggy shinigami affirmed, squatting to take his blade from his lieutenant.
“Where are we?” Yachiru inquired, squinting off into the distance. “Everything here is so...bland?”
“I don’t have any idea,” her captain answered, tucking his zanpakutou back into his belt. “Seems maybe like some Hollow dragged us home or something.” He scratched his stubbly chin contemplatively as he spoke, again casting his glance around for any clue of where they’d wound up. This time, however, he caught sight of a pair of armored humanoids marching toward them from around the other side of the building.
“Never a dull moment.”
A pair of stormtroopers had paused their patrol to analyze the new arrival from afar. He had appeared as most Primes did, popping into existence precisely when one was not paying attention, as if Omni were hiding his machinations from voyeuristic onlookers. The Fountain had just recently shifted form--as it so often did-taking the shape of a shabby-looking stone building outfitted with an enormous spinning fixture. This bit of antiquity was as foreign to the troopers as the garb of the newcomer.
“Your turn to give the recruitment speech,” the first trooper asserted, cautiously leveling his blaster at the windmill. “Hopefully this one’s calmer than some of the other recent arrivals.”
As the pair of soldiers looked on from across the Nexus, the fountain-fresh shinigami began to stir from his slumber. He struggled briefly against the tangles of his Shihakushō, eventually raising himself to a seated position and slowly opening his heavy eyelids. The Captain yawned as he glanced around, taking in what little there was to his surroundings. He did not remember falling asleep, though one rarely does.
“Where…” the death god rasped, gazing off toward the nondescript horizon. As far as he could tell, he was sitting smack in the middle of nothing.
Kenpachi Zaraki climbed slowly to his feet, dusting off his haori as he searched for any clues of where he had wound up. A glance over his shoulder revealed a windmill, its canvas blades spinning lazily without the assistance of any noticeable wind. Aside from this lone edifice, nothing of note offered itself for inspection. Where exactly had he wound up now?
“So much white,” the newcomer grumbled, glancing at the windmill as if it might reply. “Did I end up in Hueco Mundo?” His hand instinctively fell to his side as his eye left the millhouse to scan for threats, pausing as his fingers failed to find their quarry. “...Where’s my sword?”
Zaraki’s lips contorted into a scowl as he glanced down at his obi, noting that he indeed seemed to be short one nodachi; not even the sheath remained. A quick investigation of the nondescript ground/floor at his feet yielded no results, to his chagrin. “ ‘Ey, Yachiru…” He stopped short as he glanced first over one shoulder, then the other. “Dammit, now where’d you run off to…?”
The swordless swordsman heaved an aggravated sigh as he shook the last remnants of fatigue from his body. That girl loved to mess with him, that was for sure. Knowing her, she’d probably ran off to torment some puny Hollow and taken his sword with her. If only he had ever bothered to even learn to sense reiryoku, he would at least know in which direction she’s scampered off. “This is really pissin’ me off,” the shinigami muttered, striding toward the windmill. “Maybe if I jump up there…”
“KENNY!”
Kenpachi winced as the familiar excited squeak of his subordinate met his ears. Before he could leap to a higher vantage point, the pink-haired girl came racing toward him from behind the windmill. She dragged his sword behind her, his weapon lacking the benefit of the tiny pair of wheels that her own sheathed katana bore, likewise dangling behind her as she ran. Her eyes bore a look more closely akin to confusion or concern than mischief. “There you are,” the shaggy shinigami affirmed, squatting to take his blade from his lieutenant.
“Where are we?” Yachiru inquired, squinting off into the distance. “Everything here is so...bland?”
“I don’t have any idea,” her captain answered, tucking his zanpakutou back into his belt. “Seems maybe like some Hollow dragged us home or something.” He scratched his stubbly chin contemplatively as he spoke, again casting his glance around for any clue of where they’d wound up. This time, however, he caught sight of a pair of armored humanoids marching toward them from around the other side of the building.


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