the quick and lonely [closed]

The consensus webbed disapproval across the dull features off the Taichō. In the same breath, Itada strongly regretted his decision to give traditional leadership to the fiery-haired barbarian. While her past made her idyllic for the mission, he couldn’t see past her inability to maintain her composure and to follow protocol. When Ashton decided to join, however, the Seiryū inwardly groaned. Two out of the three agreed and one could only assume, given Heiji’s loyalty, that he would accept without question. And the race commenced soon after.  

Shunpo had guided the most ambitious off first, while Itada stood behind to take in the words of Heiji. The man, while odd, was wise beyond his years—though his deportment didn’t favor that of the eleventh division. The instant the Lieutenant concluded his words, however, was the moment Itada’s form vanished into thin air, only a single sway in the gentle breeze signaling his absence. He had to play catch up somehow—shunpo was a good start. 

Hopefully the two didn’t break anything before he arrived, however.   

The stench that occupied such a mundane and dispossessed locality was horrid. A man fitted from imperial manes and profligate upbringings, this was far from his norm. The deprivation, the hopelessness that riddled the faces of mere children wriggling for their next meal, it was disgusting. How Jingu found this place homely was beyond Itada’s personal level of registration, nonetheless, it did explain her bearings. A phase in his youth developed from a need to simply rebel, the Kenpachi’s state of mind was more innate, birthed from the need to simply survive.  

Simply holding a stoic posture, calm, composed hues complimented a militant stillness as the Seiryū listened to his “commander’s” edicts. From here, the forest would be their next target and the purge of the dishonored clan would inaugurate. With the stacked powers of the four individuals assembled here, the mission should run smoothly and swiftly and the Taichō could return home in a timely manner. Nonetheless, a thin trial of discomfort settled into the atmosphere. What it could have meant, Itada couldn’t say for now. Instead, his efforts would remain on the mission at hand.    

“Purge, Seken Chōdairyū.” The Captain’s incantation was complimented by an ocean of gathering energy. Flooding from his form, reiatsu crushed the frail as his Zanpakutō—mid unsheathing---mutated into an entirely new instrument of annihilation. The invocation was abridged; a feat granted from decades of mastering his Shikai and within that same breath, the titanic war fan howled gale winds. 

The electricity that scrunched from the heavens and imparted its influence with Jingu seemingly missed its grasp on Itada. Beads of electrical divisions swept off the man’s bearings as a spectral shell shielded him from certain adverse shortcomings. It’s beckoning whim? A single sweep of the Gunbai that was held assertively in the tightened grasp of the Nanabantai Taichō; worthless filth had no certain survival in the eyes of the Seiryū’s Shikai.  

As the Fukataichō made haste against the Lightning monarch, Itada—after understanding Jingu’s situation—decided her death would be an inconvenience. As the small pack of hungry wolves relaxed themselves into mindset of eventual gorging, their dreams would be cut thin by another swing of Seken Chōdairyū. This time, instead of marshaling the shield, Itada fashioned the sword. Two, thin, ethereal arms emerged from nothingness and rocketed towards the pack. Their aim? To ensnare the entirety of the wolves within two mammoth-sized grasps and suffocating them beneath the force of the Captain’s might. Swift-moving and with strength that could shatter steel, the monsters—if caught—had no chance of survival. Needless to say, Itada played fool for no one and would act accordingly if needed, and to save the Kenpachi until she regained control.