A human, to the force of nature.
He who thought, so long as he did the bare minimum, he was safe.
He who thought, so long as he sticks his head out of trouble, he was safe.
He who thought, if he just ran away, he was safe.
A grin spreads across Chika's face. Sharp, inhuman, nothing like a friend. No edges, no softness, everything like an enemy.
"You were saying something, weren't you, Quincy?" The race name drawn out from his tongue, said in such a way that it's a taunt, a jab, for being what he is.
Like making fun of a king, placing a faulty crown on him- poking jabs at his decisions, his livelihood, and receiving no consequence for it, as he is the jester. The highest above all, the one able to do what he wants, when he wants, and how he wants.
I get if you were born that way, but you can choose to stand with him or not. And you chose him? The guy with an overgrown mustache? He doesn't even look attractive! Why would you choose him?!
Orange eyes catch onto something. A pale finger, to be specific, raising to point at the one on top of the quincy.
Eyebrows raise in interest, and for a second, he waits.
For a second, he's preparing for something coming his way, yet that... doesn't happen.
Orange eyes catch onto a finger raising, eyebrows raising in interest.
His eyes narrow, lips scrunching together to form a soft scowl. Perhaps a pout.
What is he trying to do? Make a diversion? Maybe a last resort-
The air in front of the Quincy's finger shifts. It doesn't move, only getting bigger, and quick, too; kind of like those tornadoes he hears about-
A second away from his face, a few millimeters from touching his skin. Right before it can graze against him, the squad captain steps away from it.
To be precise, five steps and a foot off of his opponent.
Now a proper distance away from the threat, Chika tenses his legs, preparing for any other sudden developments- although, there doesn't seem to be any.
The thing just... floats off, in a straight line... it's done fast, but it can't really do much, if it just goes in a line.
Though it is something new, so I gotta give him props for that.
An ace up his sleeve, or an ability made in desperation?
With the way it's form is shaking, seconds away from exploding, Chika thinks it's the latter.
How boring. Though it does have potential.
That much he can tell. Quick, and not that visible; once refined, it can be a weapon to take down even a squad captain.
As soon as the thought comes into mind, a memory burns up the idea.
Dancing flames, barren land.
Regal figure, a decrepit man.
Shattered bones, with a half-baked plan.
So ingrained into him, to the point he feels the same rush he did before.
Heart trembling, his hands shake.
Such a grand sight, his heart aches.
A way to beat him, his mind cannot make.
It was a feeling different than before, a sensation he's never had.
In front of him, a red sign.
Surely, Lady Death with come for him this time.
In his ears, ring a pitch.
Ever since that day, he's never had an experience like that. However, looking at the guy below him- shaking, crying, and dying- maybe, just maybe, through this Quincy, Chika could.
It's a small chance, but what does he have to lose? All he's got is his life, so honestly? Ain't much.
He looks back down at the guy.
Chika whistles, "Nice ability you got there." He puts a hand on his hip. "If you polish it a little, I bet it can be a mighty fine thing to use. Wanna show me some more?"
Fraternizing with the enemy.
If Yamamoto knew, he'd surely have Chika's head.
Chika has quite a bit of freedom to go around, so this probably won't warrant a trial and execution.
Plus, I'm not exactly being all buddy-buddy. I'm gonna kill him in the end, but it never hurts to try and get something out of this. It's why I even joined Yamamoto's little band in the first place.
Such freedom, allowed for him. It's almost funny.
"I know you got some in you." With his free hand, he draws the sword out from his waistband, holding it out to the man before him. "Here, I'll even let you use my sword. That should help you, right?"
If Yamamoto won't have his ass, then somebody else surely will for this mishandling of his Zanpakutō. With that in mind, though, who would?
He doesn't think any of the other captains would care, and the only people above him (sans Yamamoto) would be Squad Zero. They don't come down often, so he can't say he'd care either. Even so, doesn't one of them make the thingies...?
Ah, whatever. I don't really care.