as years pass | kyoraku shunsui

seven - 'personal leave'

Shuriken landed back on the ground with a loud thud! as waves of her own reishi scattered around her. The woman panted as she forced herself onto her knees, using her zanpakuto to help her. Burning blue eyes locked on the wolf of a similar color who stood somewhere around twenty-five feet away from her, claws outstretched and digging into the hard sand of the First Division training grounds.

"You've got to get your timing down or we'll be at this forever," Umi no Okami's voice was firm. "How serious about this are you, Shuriken?"

"You know damn well I want this more than anything," Shuriken grunted as she finally made it to her feet. Her body felt as if it were infinitely heavier, due to the water that had soaked her hair and clothing. Shuriken's oceanic attacks were wonderful, when she wasn't the one receiving them. "If you didn't, you wouldn't have agreed to train me. Am I wrong, Okami?"

"That sort of arrogance will get you nowhere!" Before Shuriken could blink, her zanpakuto spirit had resumed his aggressive onslaught of waves. And, once again, Shuriken dove head-first into the attacks that she had grown so accustomed to using.

After successfully obtaining the fourth seat in Yamamoto's squad, Shuriken had been eager to push herself to even greater levels. For a period of time, she found herself uncertain of what that next step would be; she wasn't quite ready for yet another promotion, but that didn't mean that she couldn't get there, right? Thus, Shuriken found herself dedicating her free time to training her combat abilities yet again.

Somewhere along the line, it was as if something had clicked in Shuriken's mind. A switch had been flipped, a light had gone off; whatever analogy you prefer to use, that was what happened for her. Shuriken realized the most logical step that she had to take was one that had been right in front of her eyes the entire time. If Shuriken truly wanted to succeed as a soul reaper, to become the impressive force that would carry the Natazaki name on so victoriously, there was one thing that she needed desperately.

Bankai.

From the moment that Shuriken had first been taught what a bankai was back in the academy, she had known that it was an elite skill that took soul reapers years to master. Even then, achieving bankai was rare, and it took a certain sort of individual to even have that potential inside of them. The power of a bankai was at such a level that it had become a pre-requisite for becoming a captain, the position that Shuriken had yearned for since her youth.

Without a proper bankai, all of her dreams were as good as dead.

"Shit!" Shuriken cursed as Okami's waves once more swept her off her feet, tossing her across the training grounds. Instead of landing on her back as she had before, this time, Shuriken landed flat on her stomach. The woman was a mess, really, with twigs, mud, and debris clinging to her drenched shihakuso and hair. Bruises and cuts littered her body, far more than she cared to acknowledge.

"If we continue, you'll only wind up unconscious," Okami sighed as he wrapped his tail neatly around his paws. As he looked down at his master, who was once more trying to force herself up, there was a distinct look of pity in his dark eyes. "This is over for now. You are not ready for bankai, Shuriken."

The worst part of it all was that Shuriken knew that her zanpakuto spirit was right. At her current level, bankai was impossible for her to even dream of. She and Okami had been doing this damned dance for a month now, and her progress had been laughable.

"Okami, please," Shuriken grunted as, on shaky elbows, she lifted herself onto her ass. Her voice was almost desperate, unfitting of the strong-willed, determined woman that she had become. "Don't give up on me."