Cold steel (solo)

The disused office of the 12th divsion

The room that held Arawn's bet lay empty. Instead his sleeping form could be found hunched over the desk in the make-shift study. After the incident of the night before there was no way he could sleep. His weapon was non-responsive to his call, and his inner world was vacant. The study he had built was filled with books that he had salvaged from the many boxes that littered the building. There was some benefit to living in a storage area. There was plenty of reference material to be found. He had only to look and he could find things older than he was. Various books were in the boxes he unearthed from the dust piles. Old journals from shinigami long past. He found notes on a multitude of experiments, some successful, and many less than so. There were even books so old their pages were yellow with use and dust flew with each turn of the page. It was here that the snoring Arawn was found. His face pressed into the page like a pillow. Drool adhered his cheek to the old paper. The edge of the paper fluttered with each exhale. He had stayed up all night looking for answers, looking for some hint to what could have transpired. A true scientist would not allow such a puzzle to sit before them untouched. As a scientist he was intrigued, almost excited if not for the fact it was happening to him. Arawn had barely made it through 1/8 of the books that lined the shelves before succumbing to to exhaustion. The stress and anxiety had taken their toll on the shingami. His eyelids had become heavy and his body started to weaken. It wasn't long before he knocked out.

With the morning came nothing new. Arawn slept soundly at his desk as the minutes continued to tick by. The sun had already risen and it's light came through the window and hit the wall just behind him. It was a sudden in take of the aforementioned dust that disturbed his slumber. The particles tickled his noise and he began a chain reaction. Arawn awoke as a massive sneeze shook his body. His eyes shot open as he looked about the room expecting someone to be there with a feather tickling his nose. There was no one. Slowly he pulled his head up, the page came with it. Very carefully he pulled the parchment from his face and ran his hand through his hair. For a moment he was calm, it was a new day, and he felt rested. Then the memories came flooding back to him. He looked around the room once more. The piles and shelves of books; he needed an answer. There had to be something here that could help him. Arawn sighed as he looked down at the book before him. He had no idea where he had stopped reading before falling asleep. Instead he just started from the top of the page and worked his way down. Slowly he recalled the sentence as he read them. Yes, he'd read all of this already. He turned the page and went to the next paragraph. His search would continue.

He wasn't hungry. Well maybe he was hungry, there was a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, but he didn't think he could attribute that to hunger. Instead he used to press onward. He found that he wasn't thirsty either even with all the dust in the air. It took minutes for him to finish the book in front of him. His eyes skimmed the pages swiftly looking for key words. Anything about zanpuktos and lost spirits. Nothing to be found.Was it possible this was the first time something like this had happened? In all the years of Soul Society's 13 Gotei had no one experienced this at all? It didn't seem all that possible. There were as many shinigami as there were stars in the sky. Certainly someone had this situation. Before him he had books of history older than himself. Their pages were filled with interesting data, but nothing he could use. Nothing to explain the missing dragon in his inner world. Taking his eyes from the page he gave a small yawn and stretched his legs. He wondered how many more books there were left. So many more. He wished he had some help, but was afraid to ask.

Sighing again he popped his neck and drummed his fingers on the page. It just didn't make sense. How could Huang Long be gone? How does a spirit vanish into thin air. From what little he had learned from the books the spirit is almost like an extension of his power. But at the same time it was something different. The zanpukto itself was a manifestation of his reiryoku, so the sword was of himself. There was no change in his spiritual power. During his night of study he had taken a break to try several kido. None of his spells failed. He was happy to see that his energies hadn't diminished. All of his techniques of Sa Shin Mu were also possible. So for the most part nothing was wrong with him. After the small assertion he tried again to get his weapon to react. Seven more times his sword slid over his hand and fell to the ground. The strangeThe logic followed that the spirit was him, he was Huang Long. At the same time the books told that the spirits that occupied the weapons weren't of the same realm of the shinigami. It was him, but it isn't. A part of him and not. Very confusing and contradictory information for the most part. He passed his fingers through his hair and gave the page one final tap before rising from his seat. Huang Long sat on the floor, he didn't recall bringing it into the room with him. Perhaps he had done so during haze before falling asleep. Arawn bent down and retrieved the weapon. His zanpukto was no more than asauchi now. A fitting name for an empty blade devoid of power. The feeling in the pit of his stomach seemed to increase. Maybe he was hungry. With a groan he left the room and headed towards the lab. Perhaps he could find something to keep his mind off his current issue.