Royal Treatment[Shio/Akane]

And here came yet another of his comrades, here to show off just how incredible they were.  Again, Shio could feel his life starting to slip away, could feel the future dwindling to a pinpoint.  That grin on his face was soft and accepting, alternating between the new recruit and this would-be 'expert'.  He was honestly quite terrified by this young girl, terrified in a way he couldn't even put into words.  It was something about her stance, something involving the look on her face.  This arrogant little woman would settle for nothing less than absolute dominance, complete superiority.

And there was absolutely nothing Shio could say about it, nothing that he could do to stop this situation from getting out of hand.  Even bowing out with respect would only end in disappointing her, leading this petite little princess to hound him endlessly, to ruin his life once more.  But to fight, to actually stand up against this woman...it was just unfathomable, something that went beyond words.  His own body fought back against the entire notion of combat, against speaking out of turn.  Fingers twitched, his lips moved silently, and he ever so slowly formed a wooden grin that one almost would've called terror in any other circumstance.  He grabbed his own zanpakuto, his pinky resting against the hilt in a clear nervous motion.

"I can't exactly say no, now can I?  If my comrade feels a practical demonstration is in order, then I can't help but contribute my handiwork for the good of the division."

He withdrew his blade slowly, teasing it from hand to hand carefully, his entire focus seemingly on the blade as he moved it about.  The sheer look of concentration on his face was quite genuine, but his thoughts were somewhere completely impossible to predict.  Every single motion on Akane's face registered with him on a purely instinctual level, his mind carefully measuring her reactions and trying to figure out in the simplest and quickest way possible just what he should do here.  Swordplay was clearly the name of the game...and Shio could feel the incessant pressure of countless silent gazes, of people watching and waiting patiently for something to happen.  As if they thought this would be the time.  As if now, Shio would finally fight seriously.

Unfortunately, Shio just couldn't do that.  His blade tumbled from his hand, landing blade-point first in the dirt, sinking itself half an inch and quivering ever so slightly.  He managed a sheepish grin, as he squatted down to pick it up, nodding towards her.

"Shio Mora.  Go easy on me, please."

And here she came, her movements precise and careful, her attack forceful but without much real certainty behind it.  Shio had a momentary vision of the immediate future, his hand dipping out to snatch at her wrist as he slid to the side.  She would doubtlessly be prepared to strike back, but his own fluid movements, simple in his head as simply picking up a piece of furniture, or preparing another pot of tea.  She would fight back, but Shio had already determined exactly what would happen, had plotted the course of events in a way that could not be dissuaded. He would disarm her ably, cooly, and then-

-everyone else would notice.  His blade rose instead, parrying her blow with a slow, almost lazy flicking motion.  It soared out with an almost beautiful, languid grace...and did very nearly nothing to stop her attack, save to redirect it into a long, careful furrow against his bicep.  He glanced down at it, drawing his breath inward with a hissing motion, and then making a stance.  His blade wobbled and twitched in his hand, clearly too small to be much good at anything but defense, and if the last attack was any indication, not even very good at that.  He turned towards the new recruit, smiling with a pinched expression, as if he were being asked to speak to some distant relative, some individual with whom he held the most strained relationship.

"Did you see that?  That parry was a bit too shallow.  You have to pay attention to your reach, and the reach of your opponent.  It seems Akane's blade was just a little bit longer than I'd predicted."

His tone was careful, precise, and the blood on his arm was already dribbling down onto his palm, leaving a sticky mess there.  He turned back towards Akane, tilting his head ever so slightly and then nodding towards the tip of her sword.  He already knew that reach had very nearly nothing to do with it; he'd simply made sure to block a split second too late, to give her attack enough of the sense of reality to fool the crowd.

"Is that about right, Akane?  Do you have any other advice to add, before we begin in earnest?"

She knew.  God dammit, this petite little princess knew he was faking it, he could tell!  There was something in her stance, after he'd blocked, something in her face...and she knew.  Shio couldn't have pointed to any one thing, but her responses quickly made it quite clear.  She was goading him, trying to get him to slip up, to admit something, to fight back properly or admit he wasn't giving it his all.  But Shio had worked hard to earn his peace, and he wasn't going to let it get shattered by such a public display of force.  It had been...strained enough times in the past, but these people had a way of ignoring it, of sticking to their comfortable lies and convincing themselves he was a nobody.  Just as he preferred.

"Advice more for my own benefit than hers, I can't help but feel.  I can't really blame you for that one, though.  I did walk into it, almost literally.  I have a bad habit of getting distracted during spars."

Another blatant lie again; Shio wasn't sure he'd have been able to fail to notice Akane's rather telegraphed movements even if he'd been looking another direction entirely at the time.  His reactions may have been slower, but just to predict -hers-...?  Simple.  Child's play.  It was almost agonizing, being this slow, this sloppy.  But he drew his blade once more, switching his grip on it until it looked more like he was using a switchblade, and slid it around in a half-circle, sending her blade spiralling between his breast and arm this time, before diving forward prepared to slash against her cheek this time.  His other hand slid down to grasp around the edge of her blade, coiled expertly so that only she could see it, and so that it would take a rather complex movement to yank it free...

"I'm afraid that not being where the blade is is a rather optimistic piece of advice.  Sometimes you just can't do anything to get clear in time.  A small wound is far better in the long run, even if it makes you look bad."

And now she was trying to speak to him, like all the others.  Why couldn't they just leave well enough alone?  What was it about these women that seemed to convince them that he was their problem?  He didn't want to be this little princess's pet project, or whatever it was she intended to turn this barracks into.  All Shio wanted was to do his job, and keep his head down.  There was simply no good outcome from overachieving.  He sighed again, nodding ever so slightly as he rose his blade again, tilting it to the side and switching hands at the very last second, to knock her blade towards the floor, where his foot rose to kick it aside.

"No idea what you're talking about.  Flashy theatrics and cheap tricks.  I couldn't do a thing in a real fight.  All my skill goes into my tea ceremonies."

Yes, that was it.  The tea was safe, if a bit ostentatious.  No one would ever begrudge him his skill with making beverages.  Perhaps they'd think slightly less of him, look down on him and mock him for his skewed sense of priority, but that was just fine; a man who had no sense of importance was perfectly fine, could find a way to fit in with a motly crew without much trouble.  But there was no room for competence amongst the lesser ranks, and Shio wasn't even going to entertain the notion of stepping into the upper echelons.  He'd met that disappointment too many times to get tricked again.

And here he was, dragged into yet another swordfight against his will, determined not to make anything even approximating headway as he flailed his weapon about, performing acts that were far more entertaining than practical, letting the people 'oooh' and 'ahhhh' as he continued to block her blows, seemingly fully invested in their fight, too tied up to even launch a counter-attack.  Each move was carefully, perfectly calculated to leave absolutely no spare time free for his own responses...lest the people start wondering if he could dish it out as well as he took it.