Okuda sighed heavily, he knew he needed to master the flames lest they burn him and anyone around him by accident, something he did not want to happen. Okuda listened as the man told him to think of the flames as if they were a sword being drawn from a sheathe. Okuda understood the purpose of visual training, mentally picturing one thing while doing another to attain a certain outcome. He then listened as the man asked if he had any one person he wished to protect or a reason to wield those flames. The obvious answer was for his wife, but he had not found her yet in the Soul Society.
Okuda shook his head woefully and said “Not anyone in specific...at least not anyone that I’ve found in this afterlife of mine. If I had to pick someone it would be my wife, however I don’t know where she is, we died many years apart and she went to the Soul Society first without ever having seen me after I left for war...Other than that...I still want to protect as many people as I can with this blade of mine, to wash the blood of idealistic youth off my blade...
Okuda was referring to the Meiji Revolution of course, and how he wielded his blade not for himself or for the defense of others, but for the purpose of installing a new government. He knew that what he did was the right thing...at the time, but he could never shake the feeling of the fact that he had killed people simply for having different ideals than other people. Murdering them for the ideals of a few that envisioned a better life for many sure, but still murdering nonetheless.
Okuda however knew that simply wallowing was not the point of this exercise, he doubted the man even actually knew what he spoke of as Okuda was closer to one thousand years old at this point. He then decided it was time to return to his training. Closing his eyes, Okuda knew the distance of himself to the candles and knew the rough properties of their waxy and flaxen bodies. Okuda knew how hot his sword could burn roughly, in the range needed to melt steel itself, especially when in his Shikai form. He also knew how it felt to unsheathe a blade as that was a task he made nearly second nature to himself whilst he was alive.
Okuda focused his Reiatsu towards the candle to the right of him, focusing all his energy onto the single point of the candle’s string that held the fire whilst it burned away the wax. He then held his sword in front of him in a middle guard stance, standard for fighting an unknown style of swordsmanship, those who could see the flow of Reiatsu would see the red string of fire march slowly towards the candle itself. The in-enviable task of training his flames a tool of pure destruction.
Okuda then slowly pictured a blade of pure fire being drawn from a sheathe of pure blackness across the tip of the candle, slowly lighting it. His concentration was broken before he could finish as the top half of the right most candle suddenly exploded. As if the fire was so hot it was igniting most of the wax and string instantaneously. Setting fire to the rest of the candle body, the other two candles sent flying a few meters away by the explosion of the right most candle. Okuda sighed a bit, but at the same time felt some elation.
Elation at the fact that he had managed to only explode half of one candle instead of all three candles. The smell of wax burning filled his nostrils, but he was able to ignore it. After all, during the war he had smelt far worse smells on the battlefield, burning bodies for one...
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