2 v 1 (INV, training)

Yorishou copied the newcomers actions, sheathing his own sword, mirroring her to the second. This was partly manners, showing that he was respecting her action and her presence there. Partly to show the younger ones who may not know who she was that they should show likewise respect and reframe from attacking during the interaction. He was not sure who she was, but to talk so surely and, to be frank, conveniently. He had been wanting someone else to spar with to show the younger ones what they could achieve if they practiced. And it seemed this, at a glance, duel zanpakutou user, could be interested. He only hoped her swordplay was as flashy as her speech.

Stepping aside as she addressed the students, challenging them, of course, none reacted. They had spent the last hour or so being beaten up by him, of course they would not want to fight her, especially as her entrance and action so far made it looks like she was the superior skilled one. However the students also knew that he was part of the 11th division, and being new as they were, they pitied the lady. Challenging an 11th to a swordfight was asking to be killed in their opinion. Rumours spread around in the academy, stereotypes if you will.

He bowed his head at her question, "Very well, lets show the students something to remember" he flashed a smile at the students who smirked back nervously "You might want to step back a bit, this could get dangerous" the students retreated to a safe distance, the one without an arm re-joined them, his arm in a sling but the fingers wiggling slightly showed it had been healed. He took out his own sword, getting to around 10m away, the students to his right (your left). Swinging the sword around 360 vertically, he stabbed the ground a couple of times, bringing it around in front on him in a basic stance. His left arm behind him, his right arm brought it up in front of him. He bowed in respect of the fight "No name calling, no biting, stepping is allowed but lets make sure the kids can keep up."

He stood still until the last second, then arrogantly just moved to the side, going under her blade, his body matching the angle of her blade. His own sword was in front of him, should she change the angle of her sword it was in the way to block. He grabbed her shoulder, keeping the blade away from him and blocking her other one should she draw it with his body. He spun, pushing off of her shoulder and leapt into the air, spinning while doing so until some space was between them. So the students were now on the left of both of them with Yorishou behind her.

He put his sword down low, would wait until she had turned around to him and then attacked. He would swipe from right to left, back down diagonally to the right, the sword loosened in his hand, holding the sword backhand and slicing at her legs. His legs were slightly out front, ready to dart backwards if she counter attacked or anything he could not block. Looking up dead into her eyes "Yorishou Kiyoshi, The Mettle Prince of division 11." He said loudly. It was a dangerous attack to do, full of holes and such.

But he was not fighting to be good, he was fighting to show different attacks, styles. And whether this division 1 could spot them. He assumed she was the same, giving eachother weak, simple attacks to gauge eachothers strength. It was just a matter of time before they turned up the heat a little, but he had the feeling the students would need to back up some more if they got serious.

"This isn't about the students anymore."

The voice held no sign of animosity or anger, but there was a sharpness and a certainty there that made it quite clear any other person would've been shouting right now.  The speaker entered the training room slowly, surveying the room.  There was around him an oddly clean smell, something that reminded momentarily of orange zest and coconuts.  He hardly even seemed aware of it, or of the looks of baffled silence that the three younger shinigami had at this point.  He wasn't wearing his official robes today, so his armor-mostly ornamental of course, just there to make sure he didn't provoke someone into a stupid act by appearing a civilian- was on full display.

Shio stretched ever so slightly, his weapon held in one hand as he walked forward.  There wasn't any sense of hurry about him, nor any sense of arrogance.  He simply walked into the room as if he were entering his own home, absolutely comfortable and quietly curious.  He finally sat down next to the students themselves, smiling slightly and touching his hand to the cheek of one.  The one with the wounded arm, in fact.  He let it linger there for just a second, until he felt their muscles relax, and then nodded slightly.

"What's your name, soldier?"

"Danto.  I'm a squad three."

"Well here's your problem.  You shouldn't have been talking while you fought at all.  Anything that needs to be said during a fight should be brought up when the fight ends.  Now get out of here.  You're not going to learn anything from sitting there and cradling your sore parts.  These two are getting whipped into a frenzy, and I'm honestly not sure they even know why they're fighting anymore.  It's only going to get worse, and in a minute or two you'll just hear clangs and profanities."

He rose slowly once more, holding up his tanto and looking at it experimentally.

"It's a bit of a conundrum.  I can't really have a swordfight without using my shikai.  But if I do, both of you will no doubt feel compelled to do so as well.  I know how these sort of things go."

"Oh for, really" he snapped as soon as his feet hit the barrier. He was no novice, he knew it was a binding kido, they were taught all of this stuff in the academy. Even if he could not do it himself, he still knew what they did. He immediately swung his sword around, forming a large hammer that shattered the shield, freeing him. The hammer disappeared from his sword, landing on the small of his back and springing with his hands back to his feet. He turned around, stupid division 1s, first of all they butt into his training. He thought it was no coincidence they were here, ganging up on him then acting like it was a co-incidence. He turned on the balls of his feet, cracking his neck as he turned and adjusting his jaw before making after the man as he talked to the female. He had forgotten their names already, too far away to hear his and had not fully heard the womans in the midst of a battle.

The man glanced over his shoulder, and would spot Yorishou walking briskly towards him. Sword raised "I don't know if you noticed, but this is a sword fight. Keep your kido out or I will be inclined to breaking out a few of my own abilities" He held no spite in his voice, just confidence. "You obviously heard me before so lets dispense with the pleasantries and get down to the fun part." placing a second hand on his sword, he slashed across the man, left to right, no matter which way the man faced.

"What I noticed was a stray dropkick.  I don't have any intention of playing fair while you decline to reciprocate."

Shio's voice was as mild and fluting as earlier, almost like a bird cry as he turned back towards the battle-crazed shinigami.  The eleventh division had its purpose, naturally.  Sometimes Shio felt like that purpose was to frustrate those more civilized with their antics and their constant insistence on outright ludicrous displays of superiority.  He turned towards Yorishou, his hand slowly and idly slipping over the guard of his tanto, revealing the blade for the first time.  A sideways swipe was quite dangerous, well-poised to bifurcate him if his opponent was suitably strong.  Shio would need some very skilled leverage to avoid this blow.

Shio's blade slid out, the pommel so remarkably short, his reach only barely managing to allow his weapon to impact the tip of the blade before it would've impacted his torso.  A simple, smooth flick of the wrist sent the blow up and to the side...which was unfortunately towards his head.  The blow had turned from a gore-bringer to an eye-gouger, almost certainly bad enough to leave Shio's guard down.  But the angle was off now, and if he tilted his head just so...

He'd find himself knocked onto his ass rather than left with a concussion, rubbing against the tender and leaking spot over his scalp, already spilling blood over his face and eyes.  The hit had been painful, no doubt about that...and getting back up to his feet could waste him some precious time.  But while he was down here, he could at least have a moment or two to think and figure out his next action.

"That didn't go quite as planned."

She was no-ones fool, that was for sure, expertly dodging both of his attacks then neatly going in for a reply. However neither was he, his speed may have not been on his side but the distance between her sword and his open shoulder was a distance even her increased speed could not close in time. He continued the spin, putting a little extra power into it and narrowing avoiding her blade as it would sail past him. He moved around again, as her attack would have in turn, hopefully left her shoulder open. It had not, his blade meeting thin again as she went to deal with the male 1st division. It was not exactly a smooth fight, it seemed more like a 1v1v1 than a all v all. Having small fights between two of them than a fight between all three. This was definitely not going to give him anything, to get better and actually train, he would need practice in a difficult fight. Not an interesting fight with one person.

It was time to kick this fight up a notch. He turned around dramatically, once again swinging his sword around either side of him before it settled into his hand. Sliding it into his sheath slightly loose. He ran up behind the male, jumping/stepping into a two feet kick, he would bounce off the male, then flip backwards, the sword falling out of the sheath and then, landing on his hands he would kick the sword by the hilt towards the left leg of the male, if the male moved, it would hit the front of the females right leg. Then lowering himself gymnastically backwards onto his feet, looking for the reaction.

Oh, child!  Child!  Enough of this tomfoolery!  Stop playing little games with these two!  You're a shinigami, a proud member of a proud race!  Let them see you spread your feathers!

It's a two-on-one, Lethia.  No unseated shinigami could handle themselves in a two-on-one.  It's natural that I'd lose.

A second, a dreadful cold silent second.  As always, Shio was ready to wait out the silence, to let his meddling 'mother' have her attempt to un-nerve him, put him off of his game.  It was a familiar trick, one he'd gotten very good at waiting out.  This silence wouldn't trip him up, wouldn't make him forget what was important here.  He was just training, and beyond that he was out-numbered.  What point was there to trying to make these two start pulling out their hair over the simple fact that their opponent was outperforming them?  Where was the benefit in pushing himself back to the side of things?  He was perfectly content to walk the wide, simple road of mediocrity.

You mean it's better that you lose.

Shio rocked like he'd been slapped, even before Yorishou had managed to attack.  He inhaled, feeling the words escaping his lungs even before he realized what he was saying, even before he felt his hand sliding behind himself, holding his tanto in it.  He felt his reaitsu starting to surge and expand, the smell of tropical fruits growing stronger, almost cloying now...like they had suddenly begun fighting in a produce department that had gone overripe.  His grip remained easy and careful on his zanpakuto, but the knuckles were turning white for no explicable reason.

"Break and mend, Taroba."

It was instant, and it was almost unsettling to watch; the small blade in Shio's hand began to melt and run together, turning from metal into something else entirely.  A bright light filled the air, hovering just a few inches from Shio's head.  Like a floating lantern, the foxfire waited patiently for some foolish soul to follow after it.  In the split second it took Yorishou to finish his dropkick, Shio's miniscule dagger had turned into an enormous, almost frighteningly large slab of glimmering white, something that looked quite well-suited to decapitate a horse and its rider in a single smooth swing.  His hand rested carefully on the top, and Yorishou would've found it surprisingly unyielding, like kicking a wall.

In the same instant, Shio's head turned ever so slightly to the side, his lips opening in the faint manner of one who seemed like they were about to whisper sweet nothings.  Instead, his lips clamped down ever so slightly around the foxfire hovering just above his shoulder, holding it in his mouth for a split second.  The light was snuffed out, bringing into stark contrast the rest of the room...and making it nearly impossible not to notice as Shio's blade once more melted and ran loose, turning into something that resembled a rapier, complete with an elaborate handguard.  The weapon flashed through the air, already seeming to whip around in an oddly flexible way.  Shio had already released the wick of his weapon, flame springing to life just over his hand as he smiled that same serene grin at Meilin.  His weapon whipped upwards, his blade flicking outwards towards Meilin's wrist, the guard perfectly poised to catch her blade, and halt her spinning motion.

Had the 11th division brute decided to follow through on his attempt to bounce away, he would've been well-poised to land another strike if he felt so inclined.  But there was something glittering in Shio's eyes now, and as he looked back at Yorishou, he almost sounded excited.

"I did ask rather nicely for you to go easy on me.  I guess you can release yours too, if you think you need it."