Taking inventory (Solo)

The sigh that escaped Arawn's lips was the sixteenth one. He was so bored he had begun keeping count. He lay on a bed in the 4th squad barrack staring at the ceiling. His left arm was heavily bandaged from the shoulder down past the elbow. It was wrapped so tightly he couldn't move it if he tried, and he had tried. Similar wraps adorned his forehead and a large bandage over his nose. Arawn's neck had a thick plastic brace to keep him from turn it. There was little cushioning inside this plastic brace and very little ventilation. Already he could feel the rough material rubbing into his skin. He sighed again, number seventeen. And tried to close his eyes and relax. It was impossible to relax in such a situation, but he kept his eyes closed anyway. This was the aftermath of his session with the 2nd squad captain. After arriving at his warehouse the medical squad has spirited him away to the barracks for more medical attention. Arawn found this odd, he had expected some on the spot healing and to be on his merry way, but things were complicated to say the least.

Concussion, cracked vertebra, contusions. Apparently he was in worse shape than he expected. To make matters worse it would seem that his spiritual energy was in flux. In such a state their healing abilities were less effective. They were able to make him more stable, but full treatment would be delayed until his energy stabilized. Arawn could only guess that his theory about Huang Long assisting him was correct; the dragon had contributed some energy during that last effort. In doing so Arawn's spiritual power had been put into disarray. He groaned. Even when the dragon was helpful he was a pain.His eyes shot open at this point. Trying his best to not turn his neck locked gaze on the zanpukto leaning against the wall. It could stay there for all he cared. They had given him some medication and human level medical attention, but they wanted him to stay for observation. 48hrs of laying in bet staring at the ceiling. To say it was boring would be an understatement. The captain had undoubtedly gone easy on him and yet for him to be in such a state afterwards. It spoke volumes to the man's power. Something he was only slightly familiar with from the previous encounter. He wondered what kind of enemy it would take for the man to release his true power. Such a battle would be wonder to behold. Another sigh and Arawn's eyes closed again. Relax and let his energies settle, if he was lucky they could treat him tomorrow.

What felt like minutes later turned out to be a matter of hours. Arawn's eyes opened to once again behold the plain ceiling above his bed. He must have been a sleep to not notice that someone had been in his room. Proof of the visitor was found in the tub in his arm and the strange green liquid going through it. IV therapy? He seriously doubted the thick green liquid being pumped into his vein wasn't for hydration purposes.
"I guess that's my breakfast, lunch, and dinner." he groaned. Real food would have been nice, although eating in such a state would have been tricky to say the least. His right arm was fine even if he couldn't move his neck. His left arm was hardly a factor.

The moments ticked by ever so slower. He was bored. So very very bored. With every second that passed he regretted the match with the captain even more. If he had known this was the end result he would rather have sat on a cactus. He stared at the ceiling and let his mind wander. Huang Long had granted him power, but at a cost. The thought from before came to him yet again. Was it possible mastering his blade could kill him? From what he knew zanpukto spirits were part of those that wielded them. Or at least that was the common thought of it. Others had theorized that the spirits were immortal and drifted from shinigami to shinigami. Randomly they would seek a new master once their former owner expired. The idea was slightly disturbing, but sounded equally as valid. If the spirit truly hated it's master it could cause his death by refusing it's powers at a critical moment. Was the dragon capable of such a thing. Arawn shuddered to think about it and tried to shift his mind to another subject. In his attempt to change the topic he moved his shoulder and was rewarded with a wave of pain.

His uninjured hand massaged the wounded shoulder and he frowned. Hyun-Mu was far from perfect. Each time he'd used the move his arm had been in critical shape afterwards. Now that he thought about it, the very first successful execution had left his arm shattered. This time he had only gotten torn muscles and slight sprains. While less painful, it was hardly ideal. The power of the strike couldn't be denied, but the risk made it almost pointless. Arawn sighed and groaned. Was it possible he was doing something wrong? The old man had shown him the skill there wad denying the results were the same. But why hasn't the older man injured afterwards? What was different? The ceiling didn't answer or Arawn merely didn't understand answer it had given. The rest of the three forms of Sa Shin Mu weren't all at difficult at the last one. Ju-Jak was by far the easiest, but it's absolute form still gave him a little trouble. Being defensive wasn't hard part was anticipating the which of the enemies strikes entered the his danger zone. The airspace he had to control was minimal, but analyzing and reacting properly took more time than he had during a fight. For the most part blocking and defending was an easy thing to do.
Beck-Ho was a rather simple technique with a broad applications. Summoning all of one's power was so easy even a novice shinigami could do it. The real trick was containing all the power into one spot and using it effectively. Letting the burst of spiritual power empower the attack and destroying whatever it hit. Finally came Chung-Ryong. While it's circular attack might be useful when surrounded the rising aspect made it uses limited. That fact didn't prevent Arawn from employing it during several battle situations. His memory fluttered back to his encounter with the metal snake not long ago. With Huang Long he managed to wound the beast once more. He winced at that memory, he hadn't stopped the creature as planned. It was probably doing something more devious than it's last attack upon the humans.

Slowly Arawn's thoughts returned to Sa Shin Mu. For the most part he had only learned four moves from Master Sung. Was that all the art was? The old man had him practice katas that seemed a blend of other martial arts. A fusion of Judo, Kempo, Karate, Taekwondo, and several others he couldn't begin to name. It was those four reiatsu infused strikes that stood out as actual original moves. Only four skills. Was that enough to call it a martial art? The training his body went through to master the skills strengthened him greatly. And the end results weren't too bad when he considered it. Still he couldn't fight the feeling that something was missing. He recalled the wanted poster he had found in the library. Long ago a human had used this same martial art to cause death and terror across a whole country. A killing art. He had inherited a murder's skills. Sung claimed to have mastered it here in Soul Society. What was the skill like on earth? There was no way to know and no one to ask. Arawn sighed again. Was that the nineteenth? Already he had lost count. Doing his best to fluff his pillow with his one good arm he tried once again to try to sleep. But just closing his eyes didn't work, but he did feel slightly relaxed. Perhaps by morning they can properly treat him and send him back to his barracks.