[ Releasing shikai is, of course, not allowed within the Sereitei - at least, it's not typically allowed. In Byakuya's case, there are exceptions as is true for the Kuchiki Clan in many aspects of life. Within the confines of the manor and outside striking distance of any passerby, no one would presume to impinge upon his training opportunities. The garden furthest from the main streets near the servant's quarters is usually abandoned. He's used these particular grounds more than once to get a feel for Senbonzakura and the way it spreads out when released; even now, decades and decades into their partnership, its range continues to surprise him.
If he can be surprised, he can make mistakes.
If war ever comes, he must be better prepared.
Currently deep in concentration, he doesn't notice the door sliding open before the action is nearly completed. Breath catching in his throat, he freezes on the spot, muscle memory taking over though it isn't strictly necessary - Senbonzakura responds to his will, first - the petals shimmering in the air around Isamu the Servant as he steps outside, directly into the storm of blades. He keeps them still, forcing himself to breathe evenly and ignoring the slight sheen of sweat on his brow. In the back of his mind, Senbonzakura trembles, tethered and distinctively unhappy as a consequence.
Slowly, with infinite care, he turns his palm around and recalls the blades, intent on avoiding any and all contact with Isamu's body as well as anything else in their immediate surroundings. They rush past Isamu, a whisper of metal and spiritual pressure, before settling back against the hilt. He swallows, gaze flicking to Isamu, perhaps a bit too fast.
His voice, when he speaks, is even. Outwardly untouched. Against the scabbard, however, his fingertips are trembling. ]
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If he can be surprised, he can make mistakes.
If war ever comes, he must be better prepared.
Currently deep in concentration, he doesn't notice the door sliding open before the action is nearly completed. Breath catching in his throat, he freezes on the spot, muscle memory taking over though it isn't strictly necessary - Senbonzakura responds to his will, first - the petals shimmering in the air around Isamu the Servant as he steps outside, directly into the storm of blades. He keeps them still, forcing himself to breathe evenly and ignoring the slight sheen of sweat on his brow. In the back of his mind, Senbonzakura trembles, tethered and distinctively unhappy as a consequence.
Slowly, with infinite care, he turns his palm around and recalls the blades, intent on avoiding any and all contact with Isamu's body as well as anything else in their immediate surroundings. They rush past Isamu, a whisper of metal and spiritual pressure, before settling back against the hilt. He swallows, gaze flicking to Isamu, perhaps a bit too fast.
His voice, when he speaks, is even. Outwardly untouched. Against the scabbard, however, his fingertips are trembling. ]
You. What do you think you're doing?