Makoto had an uneasy grip on his zanpakuto's hilt as he sheathed it back onto his hip as a jet of white and red mist dissipated behind him from a hollow's mask shattering. For him, killing hollow was a routine thing, he just didn't expect to go back to the human world as soon as he did. Despite his recent promotion, Makoto chose not to wear his lieutenant armband, feeling as if he hadn't deserved it. The shinigami took a deep breath, relaxed, and did a quick scan of the area.

So far, nothing was out of the ordinary. Even though he had suddenly been thrust with all his responsibilities, Makoto wasn't sure what to do with them. He simply hadn't grown into the role yet. Or at least, that's what he told himself. A part of him even doubted he'd keep his current position for long. He didn't fear demotion- not having the responsibilities of an executive officer would have been a great improvement over his situation. What he feared was getting hoisted with the responsibilities of being a captain, with all the needs of his division on his shoulder.

This, however, was not the task at hand. Still, Makoto had no idea what he was looking for. Something that felt like a hollow? Something that felt like a shinigami? A sudden spike in reiatsu? None of these things were too out of the ordinary in Makoto's line of work. He had seen such things before. Which made things much more difficult.

Makoto stepped into the center of town, which was just about empty save for the water fountain at the very center of the town's many shops. It was night time, but as a spirit, he doubted people could actually see him even if he wanted them to. The shinigami took a seat on the fountain and gave a casual glance around.

As the Shinigami sat down on the water fountain in the middle of the shopping district, he would feel a rising amount of reiatsu, unnaturally high all things considered, and just as human as not. The energy itself wasn't being channeled against an opponent, and simply saturated the area as a man in his early to mid-twenties stepped into the area, glancing around in curiosity as if looking for something. His hair was white with black tips, and hung down his back in a messy manner. He wore a black button-up with the first few buttons undone to show a well-muscled chest, and had a pair of black jeans on along with a pair of heavy combat boots. His blue eyes landed on the seated warrior, and the reiatsu in the area stilled in anticipation.

Walking over, the man put his hands in his pockets and begun speaking in a low bass, a hint of a Norwegian accent tinting his voice, although it could just as easily have been Swedish. "A Shinigami, eh? I've been here for some time, and this is the first time I've actually run into one of you. I've seen plenty of Hollows, though. So, is there any particular reason you're just sitting here?"

Then, Makoto noticed something, but he wasn't sure if it was something that he was after. Inspecting it from afar, he could see that it did not have the signature red soul ribbon of a shinigami like he expected his enemy, a vizard, to have. Still, whatever it was, it must have been worth investigating. Then, whatever he was, appeared in front of Makoto. He must have gotten sloppy, normally, he wouldn't simply let someone inflate their reiatsu and approach him like that. Still, this stranger didn't look like he meant Makoto any harm. At least not yet. Not to mention, Makoto didn't agree with this man's outfit.

"First off, button your shirt up darling. You'll catch a cold." Makoto pointed out, mainly as filler while he could really gather his thoughts. Makoto had met people who gained strength very quickly but not to the extent of this. Not a mortal human at least, so this person must be quite remarkable. "It's shinigami business and I doubt that you'd know what I was looking for even if I told you." Makoto explained.

Makoto had met people like this before. Sauntering up to a shinigami in a nonchalant manner. Normally they were peasants way over their head, but this person was different. Makoto could feel this man had power. "But, you seem like a trustworthy man, so I'll tell you." He fibbed, thinking that the sudden surge in power might attract what he was looking for to his direction. Makoto reached his hand under his uniform to send a quick text to Gotei 6 administration, asking for them to authorize his use of full power. Of course, until they responded, Makoto had to deal with whatever the man was with pure skill alone.

"I'm looking for strong opponents. You wouldn't happen to know one, would you darling?"

Lifting an eyebrow expressively, the man shifted, allowing the shirt to move across his skin slightly and reveal a rather large scar directly over his heart, one that pulsed slightly with blue reiatsu as the energy in the air settled into an ominous blanket over the area. It would become fairly obvious that the rising energy signature wasn't necessarily a human gaining strength, or powering up, but simply the result of the man making his way towards the area. It was as if he had no ability to tune down the amount he was putting off, only channel it to specific points or targets. Once the Shinigami had finished speaking, and had done whatever it was that he had been doing while fiddling with his uniform, the white-haired male began to do something that might be considered foolhardy.

He began to laugh in a friendly manner.

Taking a couple of steps back, he would begin speaking in a casual manner, his soft bass filling the empty area as a silver longsword formed in his hand, gold accents glinting in the light of the nearby streetlamps. His scar ignited with blue energy, stretching across his skin with one tendril reaching up onto his face on the right. The latent reiatsu in the area began to weigh down as he prepared for a fight. "This weather is nothing compared to my homeland, so I'm not terribly worried about a cold. I've also been known to fight on occasion. The name I've been using is Sigurd Volsung. If you give me a good enough fight, I might even tell you my epithets."

Bringing his sword around in front of him, Sigurd's eyes would flash with the same blue energy, his smile turning predatory. He was looking forward to this.

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Makoto was a little surprised by the human's sudden powering up, though he didn't show it. He was used to his foes having some physical change in form to accompany the change in power, so when someone did it, and a human no less, it caught Makoto off guard. Still, he had just finished a fight where he had little information. In this case, he had to figure out his opponent on the fly, just like he did last time. This time though, he had a bit more experience. Immediately, two things were evident to Makoto. His power suddenly spiked and his power was growing. What Makoto needed to test was how far he could keep the power for. Once he did, all Makoto needed to do was keep pace. If he learned that there was no limit- that this may have been the person's baseline- then Makoto could also adjust his strategy accordingly.

Another thing that Makoto noticed was the man's form. "You're quite easy to read, darling. The way you hold your sword. The way you throw around your reiatsu. You're used to being stronger than your opponent. If your goal is to finish me off quickly though, it won't work. You'll tire yourself out before you do." Makoto stated, making his own intent apparently clear.

"As far as swordsmanship goes, however. A mere mortal cannot match me. I've spent too long perfecting the craft. You won't catch up in your life time, darling." Makoto stated. He had his hands in his pockets as if casually goading his opponent to strike first. From all appearances, it looked like Makoto's strategy was to play the long game.

Sigurd's smile began to wane as the Shinigami began to speak, his reiatsu pressing down on the area in an unnatural amount even as the man was seemingly dumb enough to tell him his strategy. A buzz echoed through the area from within the Shinigami's coat - a message that, while unknown to Sigurd, was from Makoto's Captain giving him permission to fight at full strength. Regardless, the Norseman's handsome features were drawn in a slight scowl at the man's words, even as he vanished in the human equivalent of Shunpo, known simply as Blur. Reappearing behind the Shinigami, he'd swing his sword at the man's back, the execution of the strike flawless from a technical standpoint. Given that it was an opening blow to test his opponent's defenses, and more to prove a point than anything else, Sigurd refrained from attacking at his full speed and strength, keeping his own abilities under wraps for the moment. The sword itself, however, might be of note as it's edge gleamed in a dangerous manner, belying it's abilities.

Once the Shinigami had either blocked or dodged, or perhaps even been struck, the man would speak, his voice becoming a chilling monotone. As he did, his stance shifted into one with zero openings, balanced evenly for attack and defense. "Are all Shinigami so arrogant, or is it just you? My reiatsu cannot be sealed away, as it is not in it's nature. It simply exists at it's peak. On top of that, there have been plenty of times in my life where I have faced off against opponents far greater than myself, and even then never met my match. When I died, it was because of a blade in the night, from someone bewitched to be braver than they ever could be. Now, draw your sword, else I'll take it as an insult, Shinigami."

No matter what the Shinigami seemed to think, and despite Sigurd's own inability to sense, it would be fairly obvious to both of them that as it was, Sigurd had the advantage. Empowered humans didn't need to release into their initial stage of power, and even if the other man released his sword it was almost guaranteed that the Einherjar had a superior level of raw power at his disposal. The thing to be wary of would be any unique abilities the Shinigami had, along with his kido.

Ultimately, in a clash of blades, Sigurd is king.

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Makoto didn't expect the Gotei 6 to respond so quickly to his request. He had anticipated taking at least a few minutes so that he could keep more of his power hidden, but that was fine. Makoto made adjustments to his strategy accordingly.

Sigurd's reiatsu was great, but that made his attacks easy to predict, and having sparred plenty with the 2nd Division, Makoto was more than familiar with opponents that used speed techniques. Makoto turned around and bucked his hips toward Sigurd's blade, catching the sword on the sheath of his zanpakuto. The blade sunk less than a centimeter in thanks to the sheer durability of the material but allowed Makoto enough traction to swing his hips back the other way to pull it out of his way. It was finally then when Makoto took his hands out of his pockets. One hand held his sheath and pushed the blade out from the handguard with its thumb while the other gripped the hilt just below the guard. In one motion, Makoto unsheathed his zanpakuto and slashed with it, aiming the cut directly at the center of Sigurd's body, then in the next instant, anticipating a dodge, placed his other hand on his zanpakuto's hilt to prepare to parry his opponent's next move.

"Iaijutsu. Have you heard of it, darling?" Makoto started. "It's something quite unique to Japanese swordsmanship thanks to the shape of our blades. The curvature is designed so that a swordsman can unsheathe his blade and cut in a single motion. Quite ingenious, don't you think darling?"

Taking a slice out of the man's sheath, Sigurd casually took a step back and flicked his wrist, blocking the strike that the other man performed. Sighing once more as he seemed to ignore his words in favor of his own view of events. Rolling his eyes, the Norseman responded with a hint of barely-controlled sass. "Oh, yes. An ingenious way to use one's blade, using the extra leverage of one's sheath to increase the speed of the strike. It might have even worked if you had the speed to pull it off against a superior opponent. I could tell in that last swing, darling. You're quite a bit slower than I am at the moment, and weaker physically. If I had to take a guess, my reiatsu is probably quite a bit greater than yours as well. So, for the sake of fairness, why don't you use your actual power? I'll even let you in on a little secret. A longsword like mine has quite a bit more mass to it than a Japanese blade, and doesn't come with the same integral flaw. I don't have to apply force in the exact direction of my swing so that I don't mess up my blade, or reduce the power of the strike. On top of that, Gram is capable of cutting through nearly anything in this world or the next."

As demonstration, Sigurd flicked his wrist lazily once more, cutting the statue in the middle of the fountain in half without any visible effort. There was another thing about the strike that would be easy enough to notice. It was far faster than the original had been, enough so that Makoto wouldn't be able to keep up as he was. "Now then, Shinigami. Are you going to continue this boring turn of events, or are you actually going to give me some effort?"

Getting back into a proper stance once more, Sigurd would even place his off-hand on the hilt of Gram, his eyes cold and calculating while watching the other man's actions.

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Exactly as planned, Sigurd took a step back, putting some distance between the two of them. Everything he said about the flaws of a sword of Makoto's type didn't quite apply to zanpakuto, which weighed several times more than usual to anyone other than their user. Not like it mattered much at their level.

"Was that supposed to impress me? It's too bad fountains don't hit back darling. I will humor you though" Makoto smirked. He didn't like that his opponent was trying to posture when all he had done so far was flex his power. Even for the 5th Division, or perhaps especially for the 5th Division, such a thing seemed uncouth. "Roll, Soutoubushin." Makoto's power palpably flared up. It was clear that his opponent was at a physical advantage, but it didn't matter to Makoto. At this rate, Makoto felt like the battle was going to be a slog, but if this person could keep his reiatsu as high as he did, perhaps it would act like the bait Makoto planned for it to be. All he had to do was pace himself.

Makoto swayed back as his zanpakuto transformed in his hands from the form of a sword into that of a single metal die about four inches wide and four inches tall. He prepared to throw the dice as if he were throwing a football. "Choose, Soutoubushin!" He declared, tossing the dice toward his opponent then jogging after it, waiting for his opponent to dodge out of the way.

Sigurd sighed and shifted his body weight to his right, blocking the small metal die and letting it bounce off to the side with his sword. He then proceeded to swing Gram horizontally towards his opponent's chest as the man ran towards him, in line with his sternum. Whether or not the strike actually hit, Sigurd would step around the Shinigami, bringing his sword around in an arc to bring it across his shoulder blades, stepping back slightly to assess the damage, and wait for whatever the man's Zanpakuto was to take effect.

At the moment, the fight was just disappointing.

Eyebrow twitching, the human glared at the effeminate man and spoke, a hint of annoyance in his usually-calm bass. "Honestly...You claim to be looking for strong opponents, and yet there's been no actual effort put in. I could hardly even call this a fight at the moment. You haven't given me a name, it took far too long for you to release your blade, and you have forgotten one of the fundamentals of warfare. Against a superior opponent, never let them regain their footing. We've already established that I have an advantage, and the longer you let this go on the wider the gap will become. You have to be more aggressive, or else you'll lose any hope you have of winning this. Now then, are you going to actually fight, or just sit there on your high horse and look down on me without knowing who you're speaking to?"

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