Ikkaku smiled, amused. She had started feinting. 11th division members rarely used feints, as they all liked direct, uncomplicated fighting. She had also come in too close - The domain of unarmed fighters. Obviously this was a time to teach her a few things.

His bokken fell to the floor as he rushed in to very close quarters. His right arm reached out to wrap around her sword arm, to reduce her ability to counter with her sword, and stop her attack, whist his left one aimed to grab for her collar. Should he manage this, he would extend his right foot to her side, and, using the grip on her collar, push her over, using his leg to unbalance her, and slam her into the floor.

Momiji’s eyes shot wide open a gasp escaping her as she recognized her grave mistake. Her feet were knocked out from under her and she plummeted to the ground heavily as the third seats grip added momentum to the fall. The floorboards echoed loudly when her body landed, her breath expelled in an unpleasant yelp.

There were clearly certain aspects the novice 11th squad member had to adapt to. Within the combat corps, fighting was merciless, and all means to emerging victorious were fair play. It was about winning to fight another day. Momiji would have to incorporate the more “down to basics” and ruthless methods which gained the eleventh division their reputation. Traditional chivalry did not aid in winning fights.

Kazeaki's expression furrowed into a scowl for a slight moment, taking hold of Madarame's wrist which clenched the collar of her shihakuso, as if she were going to attempt freeing herself by using a reversal, though from the looks of it the fight was over.