Clouds of vile darkness approached overhead as he finished examining the ruins, glaring down menacingly. He'd looked to discover anything he could of the affiliation of his foe, but to no avail could find no brands or markings that may have been on the corpses or buildings, instead on each it was burned away. He could smell the reiatsu though in the destroyed and ruined flesh, the scent repugnant...
"Kido," he whispered as he ran his fingers along the scorch marks on the skin darkened and blackened skin. Whoever it was, he didn't want his foes to know he was coming... It felt like the opening to a yakuza war. He would usually dismiss it, being the job of a separate branch of Seireitei to deal with it, but something moved him... A need to know, to discover who did this and why... So he stood, turned, and examined yet another corpse for the fourth time. He'd seen them all, over and over, but he willed for them to give him some hint as to their assailant. All he knew was that he could tell if the man fought nearby again, for he'd spent a while examining the reiatsu composition of the strikes.
The kido seemed professional while the assailant poorly masked themselves, at least while in the midst of battle, and Max let out a deep sigh of thanks. It meant the assailant was passionate in his actions, which meant he would strike again, and again, more chances for Max to find his pattern and beat him there... Maybe if he determined who owned this site in regards to yakuza, but this type of setup seemed silent, like the advance force scouting an area before a takeover...
He took in a deep breath and let it out, calming himself. So much felt familiar to him, he strode from the wreckage as some Squad Six personnel arrived in response to a hell butterfly he'd sent out.
"I am Yelon Rilec of Squad Six," spoke a man with long red hair held in a ponytail and pulling all of his hair back as well, his face was slender and windswept while his eyes were grey, slitted, and quick. Everything about him seemed to be of youth and speed...
"I am Maximus Ariya of Squad Three," replied the man taking his hand, "I've already prepared my notes for you to examine. Now, let me get out of your hair and you can go catch the bastard that did this." Max smiled half-heartedly, unaware if he could trust the man to do the job right... He handed him the notes and after explaining what he saw to the man while he read his notes, Max was allowed to leave.
A pounding beat at his mind like a thousand drums pounding at once all around him. He'd not rested for two days now and he needed it for god's sake. A voice from his past rung in his ears, the memory of the lesson clear.
'The weary are stupid,' his adoptive-father used to tell him, 'You get tired, you start to lose focus, and the little details tend to slip through unnoticed...' They'd had to deal with a cleanup of a man who'd moved for six days without sleep to complete an assassination, the man had failed, making so many mistakes it wasn't funny, so Max had done it for him. Max decided he would rest, and when he woke, he would deal with his thoughts... Yes, first, he needed rest...
