Art of War (Spar with Chikao)

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Berlin.

He had been there a few times before; Grimmjow may have even honestly said it was the one city he knew best. It had its downsides (police and the like enjoyed giving him the lookover, maybe it was his appearance that brought this on him) but there were far too many good aspects of this metropolis to let a few law men scare him away. There were buildings galore, huge steel and glass structures that confined everything you could imagine inside. Humans milled around everywhere, in and out of the buildings, busy, busy, busy.

Grimmjow wasn't among them today. He allowed himself to explore the day's cloudy skies without reserve or gigai holding him down, enjoying the feeling of unrestrained power that came from leaving that prison of a disguise. He leapt from building to building with something that could only be described as rapture, laughing like a maniac, roving across the skyline unseen by the humans below. He had been in the throng with them time and time again, and while they had an energy he could never quite describe, man, were they blind.

He had come to Berlin that day with the intention of recruiting an arrancar he had heard was there, yet the moment he had walked into the city he realized it was a false lead and that he had the rest of the day to himself to enjoy some relaxation time under the chaos of the Berlin sky. Up here, wind whipped his hair and clothing even when he stood still. Here he felt at home, safe from the order of the human world. A disturbance now would likely send him into rage of proportions hitherto indescribable.

Even as he had the thought, he stopped dead in his tracks. There was someone coming. He just knew it.

Crap...

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The Appearance!

Single steps lead into the clouded and cold climate of Germania, the land that had shown so much bravery and resilience over the years. And Berlin, the city that captured the world's imagination, it's architecture, it's glory, the stories of liberation and freedom at last. It really spoke to Chikao, this city, it had history, as did he.

The Senkaimon split shut behind him, leaving him within the Human World, with a mission usually not given to the Kidoshu by any means. A secretive organization as they were, they still had the interests of Seireitei at heart, no matter how corrupt and weak it had decayed. Dropping altitude to the roof of what looked like several steel girders holding sheets of glass in place, which was to serve as walls. Chikao had not been to the Human World for 3 years, yet this was the level of modern architecture? It was very well built, he'd give them that. But it seemed so... simplistic...

His thoughts were interrupted by a large reiatsu source several streets to the north-west, his target. Grimmjow Jeagerjaques, Espada rank 6 Arrancar, highly dangerous. Kurosaki Ichigo had caused him several mortal wounds in the past, yet still he lived. He recalled reading about the young Substitute who not only defeated and nearly killed the rank 6 Espada, but also the rank 4 AND Sosuke Aizen. So much power from such a young child in such a short time. That really warmed his heart. Looks like it's his chance to finish what the young started then, a task he had been eager to carry out, leaving with much fervour.

Flipping open the small handheld device that was apparently known as a 'mobile phone', he pressed the buttons he was told to press if he required anything. The small hole in the bottom of the plastic object was a microphone which emitted high-frequency electrical sounds through radio waves... the technology astounded Chikao. Humans really were fascinating creatures.

"Kidoshu Soshi, Genkei Chikao, requesting an area freeze of one square mile, me being the centre-point."
"Understand, sir"

He loudly flipped it shut again, placing it back into a compartment in his robes. As the area freeze started to take effect, Chikao got to work, drawing his blade and heading straight for the source, walking at a casual pace towards the disturbance, releasing as much extra reiatsu as he could, in order to create fear into his opponent. A tactic that usually didn't work, but it's better to try and fail than to give up.

Gikyo vibrated lightly in his hand, eager for combat again after so long. Urging her to keep her emotions under control, he continued his walk across the rooftops towards his prey, as the dark clouds suddenly split, a torrent of rain falling upon the city.

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The presence that he had felt as it entered was making itself known. Torrents of reiatsu met the torrent of rain that began to fall as Grimmjow took a deep breath and gritted his teeth. He would have been amused by the (captain-level, he had gathered) shinigami’s display if he wasn’t so irrefutably irked by his presence. The man’s face was hidden from sight—it was so rude. Grimmjow could already tell that he was going to hate the shinigami that was approaching. The insufferable prick was even walking slowly, as if he was a b-grade horror flick slasher—All in an attempt to intimidate. He was wasting his reiatsu with this, but Grimmjow stood his ground, mouth downturned in a sneer of disdain as he waited for his attacker to close in to earshot before affixing him with the hardest stare he was capable of and screaming across the wind and rain—they rose up before him to devour the words, but he would not let them—”Well hurry up, Will ya?! I wanna kill ya before the rain quits! You don’t even know what you’ve just got yourself into, shinigami!”

He stood waiting in the rain, rivulets running down his neck, refusing to relent or take a single inch of ground because he was just fine with where he stood, thank you very much, and no shinigami was going to make him move. He threw an arrogant sneer at the man as he came close, placing one hand at his sword (which he realized he had missed during the time he spent in his Gigai; having cold steel under his hand felt just so good) and cocking his head to show off his good side.

It wasn’t like he’d never fought a shinigami before—he knew they never really cared what the hell you looked like as long as they made it clear to you that they thought you were scum and they were some awe-inspiring figure of justice. They were so full of themselves that they never paid attention to who they were fighting. Grimmjow could remember vividly every hollow, every Arrancar, and every shinigami he had ever fought. Some were worthy of rememberance…others, he wished he could forget. He hoped that this one, with his unreadable face (masked, what was wrong with this guy?) and a certain kind of mystique that Grimmjow admitted was impressive, would be the former.

He gathered reiatsu without dissipating it, leaving it to boil just under the surface and relishing the feeling of adrenaline surging through him. While he was indescribably infuriated by the interruption, he had to admit that he was a touch conflicted between being mad at the guy or excited for a battle.

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The Face-off

Another genius... great.

His blade shivered with a savage delight, the spirit Gikyo almost foaming at the mouth, she was so eager for combat. Firmly telling her to compose herself through his thoughts, she quieted, lowering her anger to a low howl in her thoughts.

This guy seemed even more of a beast than the feral Zaraki Kenpachi. Zaraki was at least composed enough to keep himself to himself, this guy just wanted to kill, maim, destroy, just like all the other hollow and arrancar. His obscured eyebrows furrowed as the electric blue haired snarled his response to the abyssal amount of reiryoku. At the moment, he was currently limited to the strength of a third seat officer, so as not to affect the living world. However, he had a feeling he would have to release the seal rather quickly into the fight. But better to figure out this guy's strengths first.

His form was feline, that much was obvious, so speed would be a crucial part of his power. Strength would be debatable, however it could not be much more than his own. Close combat seemed to be his forte from his stance, however this is also debatable, since it could be a feint. Though he doubted this guy was smart enough.

Abruptly cutting off the reiryoku waves being released, he stopped his advance, hefting his blade at an angle, the tip pointed at his foe. The look in his eyes seemed fierce, fiery. There was a certain amount of weariness behind his own features however, as his aged body played upon him again, his eyesight blurring for a moment before quickly being forced back into focus. The shadow from his cloth mask covered his eyes, blocking the second-long glazed look as he went out of focus. His opponent would not notice... he hoped.

"I see... how... vulgar. How do you hope to win against me without any measure of restraint or intelligence?"

Gikyo's anticipation grew again, vibrating the blade, much more controlled than the last batch. This added a certain crisp and controlled feeling to his Zanpaktou, something he had not felt in a very long time.

"...I can tell we're going to be best of friends... hehe..."

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A manic laugh escaped Grimmjow’s lips as the shinigami’s reiatsu dissipated. He was saving the rest. Smart man. He listened carefully to each statement made by the Captain, all the while following the slight movements and rustles of fabric that gave away the motions of the head and neck. He was looking him over. He grinned maliciously as the captain unknowingly revealed more about himself than could be hidden by cloth.

He was a strategist. He was a thinker. He appraised his opponents and looked for the holes actively. It was obvious that he knew how to throw his weight around, but Grimmjow thought to himself that the strength of the captain rested with his reiatsu attacks—Kido, the shinigami called it. Strategists could generally be counted on to be commendable ranged fighters. All that gathered with a glance, Grimmjow stuck his thumbs in his sash and laughed from a healthy place at the captain’s bravado. He was pretty sure he was making the captain mad—That alone was great. It bode well for the fact that while his opponent took his time evaluating, Grimmjow had long ago developed his people-reading skills to the point of “Fine Art”. Angry shinigami were less able to strategize, so it stood to reason that a strategy minded opponent wouldn’t benefit from getting mad.

When he realized he had a sword pointing at him, he grinned. When he realized the shinigami had just insulted his intellect, he bristled inwardly. When he noticed the shinigami’s face move under the cloth, he recognized the second of weakness with a malicious but pragmatic glee. When he realized the shinigami had just leveled a sarcastic comment to his face, he laughed. ”Ha! Yeah, We’ll be best friends!”

I’ll show you restraint, Vacerro!

In a flash, Grimmjow leapt forward and leveled a punch toward the captain’s solar plexus.

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Battle Ignition!

Hasty one, aren't we?

Focusing reiatsu to his feet and legs, it released all in one motion, a blur of movement as Chikao moved what seemed instantaneously through the air, appearing several feet behind his foe. His shunpo avoided the punch, leaving an opening in the blue-haired Arrancar's attack.

Without moving any of his other limbs, his finger pointed forward, catching him within his range. Reiatsu gathered into his finger and fired in an instant as he mumbled quietly to conceal the name of his spell.

"Bakudo no Rokujuuichi, Rikujokoro"

Simultaneously, the pinky finger of his other hand shot out, firing another Kido spell, an offensive one, a single concentrated bolt of arcing lighting, striking out at a very fast speed and unpredictable angle. No attempt to conceal his speech was made, simply aiming for speed.

"Hado no Yon, Byakurai!"

The six arcs of light would slam into Grimmjow's mid-section, paralysing him while the Byakurai would inflict damage, aimed for the middle of the chest to damage him as much as possible. Of course, if it hit it would not hurt him enough to kill him, the main purpose was to ware him down.

Let us see what transpires...

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As the captain stood before him, Grimmjow keyed in on a spike in his reiatsu—nearly imperceptible, but completely clear in meaning. The Kido shot from his fingers with good speed, especially for one fired with no incantation…but as the binding spell’s light closed in, Grimmjow hastily dropped altitude and it crashed into itself, dissipating as Grimmjow grinned snidely.

In retrospect, it may have been a bad idea. He felt the cue for a second Kido far too late to do anything but take it—in the neck and face due to his drop in altitude. Sparks and stars dotted his vision as he lost his focus on airwalking and fell. Dumb mistakes like that weren’t supposed to go down, dammit! He swore vehemently, colourful language venting his frustration and setting his mind right. He used his reiatsu to propel himself back to the playing field and then above. Without wasting a second, he changed direction with a forward flip and used momentum to aim a rocket-like kick toward the captain.

What’ve we learned? Don’t let this guy get range. Don’t let him get behind you. And for crying out loud, don’t drop altitude. No way in hell I’m gonna lose—you wait and see, shinigami!