On the massive, twisted branches that had burst from the heart of the Valley of Screams, Ichigo and Yato stood side by side, dwarfed by the grotesque architecture of spiritual corruption that surrounded them. The branches stretched and coiled like veins.
Ichigo's eyes darted in every direction, his senses straining to find even the faintest trace of Senna's reiatsu. His brow was furrowed with urgency, desperation mounting with every second that passed.
Beside him, Yato remained eerily composed, eyes half-lidded, his focus internal. His attention was not on Senna—but on Ganryū. He was trying to use the silent moment to find Ganryū's reiatsu, but Ichigo suddenly broke the silence.
"Senna!!!" he shouted with all the force his lungs could summon, his voice echoing through the hollow expanse.
But it wasn't her voice that responded.
"Do you truly believe the Shinenju can be saved?" a cold, disembodied voice reverberated across the warped terrain.
It was Ganryū.
Ichigo thighten his grip on his zanpakutō. "Of course she can! We're going to get Senna out of here, no matter what it takes!!" he roared, fire in his voice.
Yato didn't speak. His eyes remained closed, brows tightening slightly as he searched for Ganryū's location. The tension in his jaw spoke volumes.
Suddenly, the air behind them howled.
A mass of Reiatsu, heavy and choking, exploded toward the two substitute Shinigami like a living wave. Both Ichigo and Yato reacted instinctively—each launching themselves in opposite directions, leaping from the branch they stood upon just before the surge struck.
The collision sent a tremor through the structure, as the blast slammed into one of the massive branches, causing it to mutate and solidify further, absorbing the spiritual energy like a wound sealing itself with scar tissue.
Ganryū's voice rang out again.
"It's already too late. The Shinenju has begun to merge with the Valley of Screams. Soon, she will cease to exist as an individual. There is nothing you can do."
Ichigo's body tensed, his expression contorted in anger. "Shut up!!" he bellowed. "Senna, hang on! We're coming for you!!"
But Ganryū's voice was undeterred, echoing again through the air. "Why do you persist in denial? Can you not comprehend what I'm telling you?"
Suddenly, the very branches around them began to shudder and shift as dozens of Blanks emerged from within, crawling out of the wood like the damned rising from the depths.
"I told you," Ganryū's voice deepened, twisted with a sick satisfaction, "There is nothing you—"
But he never finished the sentence.
Without a word, Yato had had enough.
With a sharp inhale, he raised his zanpakutō, his fingers tightening around the hilt. A deep emerald glow bled from the blade, the spiritual pressure thickening and crackling as he channeled raw reiryoku through it.
In one fluid, violent slash, he unleashed a roaring arc of spiritual energy, crashing through the horde of Blanks, disintegrating them instantly in a shower of dissolving souls.
And then—Ganryū appeared.
The force of Yato's attack had shattered the camouflage that concealed him. He stood now directly before the two teenagers, revealed in full, his blade raised defensively, his cloak billowing behind him in the aftermath of the assault.
His eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a sneer of contempt.
"You bastards…" Ganryū muttered through clenched teeth, his spiritual aura flaring ominously.
From beside Yato, Ichigo took a confident step forward, lifting Zangetsu and pointing the massive blade at Ganryū.
"Finally, you decided to show your face." Ichigo smirked. "We're going to beat you and we're getting Senna out of here."
"I'd like to see you try." Ganryū gave a short chuckle.
Before the words had fully left Ganryū's lips, Yato had already launched himself forward in a blur, his zanpakutō arcing down in a overhead slash. Ganryū caught the blow with his own sword, steel grinding against steel with a flash of sparks.
But Yato wasn't done.
From his arms and legs, the red threads of his Fullbring surged like living tendrils, snapping forward to bind Ganryū's limbs and restrict his movement. They spiraled outward in sharp, rhythmic motions, seeking any opportunity to coil around their target.
But Ganryū was faster than expected. With a burst of energy, he leapt back, narrowly evading the threads as they lashed the air where he had just stood. As his feet touched down on another gnarled root, his eyes shot open in alarm at the scream that followed.
"BAN—KAI!!"
The very air shuddered under the eruption of reiatsu that poured from Ichigo. The landscape groaned beneath the pressure as a whirlwind of raw energy enveloped him, black and red tendrils lashing out from his form. His clothes transformed—the standard shihakushō elongating and shifting into a black, tattered trench coat that fluttered like shadows in a storm.
In his hand, the massive blade of his Zangetsu had vanished—replaced by a sleek, jet-black blade.
<< Tensa Zangetsu >> • 天鎖斬月, Heaven Chain Slaying Moon •
Ichigo vanished from sight and reappeared in an instant, blade already swinging toward Ganryū in a blur of motion.
Ganryū blocked just in time.
The force of the impact shook the branch they stood upon. Sparks flew from their clashing swords, and the battle between the two spiraled into high-speed moviments—flashing steel, violent bursts of reiatsu, and shockwaves tearing bark from the grotesque branches around them. They darted from root to root, streaks of color and energy colliding in bursts of crimson, green, and black.
Below, Yato gritted his teeth.
He should've been planning a strategy. He should've been searching for Senna now that Ganryū was distracted.
But he wasn't.
His eyes narrowed in frustration as he watched Ichigo and Ganryū clash with such speed that he could barely track their movements. Ichigo's Bankai-enhanced reflexes pushed the tempo to a level that Yato struggled to follow. The battle echoed with each clash of their blades, but Yato could only feel the pressure of their reiatsu—he couldn't see the blows land.
"Tch…" Yato clicked his tongue in irritation.
With a surge of will, Yato activated his Bringer Light, his feet glowing with flashes of green energy as he launched himself after the flaring trails of spiritual pressure.
Meanwhile, high above the ground where the twisted roots coiled like serpents, Ichigo gritted his teeth, parrying a fierce swing from Ganryū that sent him sliding backward. Sparks danced along the blade of Tensa Zangetsu as he came to a halt on the edge of a crooked branch.
He leapt away to reposition—only for the Valley to strike back.
From beneath his feet, Blanks surged from the branch itself, their spectral forms writhing as they wrapped around his legs. Their touch was cold and clammy, like fog solidifying into chains. Ichigo's eyes widened in surprise just as Ganryū, still poised with inhuman calm, pointed his blade directly at him.
A wave of spiritual force burst forth from the tip of Ganryū's sword—a massive, twisting surge of reiatsu composed entirely of condensed Blanks.
"Damn it—!" Ichigo raised Tensa Zangetsu just in time, slashing upward in a desperate defense. The impact rattled his arms. The wave of reiatsu didn't just hit—it wrapped around him, congealing, hardening, turning solid with a sickening crunch as if the energy had turned to bone.
With a roar of effort, he unleashed a pulse of his own spiritual pressure, the black and red surge bursting outward in a violent shockwave. Cracks splintered through the solidified mass surrounding him, and with a final push, Ichigo broke free—just in time to raise his blade again and block another of Ganryū's attacks, who had already closed the distance.
Steel clashed against steel, sparks lighting the air like fireflies in a storm.
They moved too fast for any human eye to follow—flashes of black and silver dancing across the massive branches. Ganryū fought like a phantom, appearing and vanishing between the roots, relentless in both speed and aggression. But worse than his blade were the Blanks that responded to him like loyal soldiers.
Each time Ichigo increased his speed, Ganryū absorbed more Blanks into his body, his power escalating to match every surge. The more aggressive Ichigo became, the more Ganryū fed on the spiritual density of the Valley. It was like fighting a bottomless pit—every hit only made him stronger.
When Ichigo tried to pull back to regroup, the strategy crumbled.
Ganryū merely adapted—molding Blanks into weapons, spears, chains, and swords, launching them with deadly precision. Ethereal blades spiraled through the air toward Ichigo from multiple directions, each one honed to tear through his defenses or bind him once more. The Valley was not just his battlefield—it was his weapon.
Panting, Ichigo swatted several of the blades away in midair, his reflexes honed to the point of muscle memory—but one of them slipped through.
The spiritual blade struck him square in the abdomen.
Instead of cutting, it slammed into him, more like a battering ram than a sword. Ichigo's breath caught in his throat as he was launched backward, crashing into a thick, contorted branch with a sickening crack. The blade that struck him melted into a gelatinous mass the moment of impact, wrapping around his body like tar.
Within seconds, it solidified, pinning Ichigo to the branch.
His arms were restrained, his chest crushed under the spiritual weight, and only his face remained free, his eyes burning with frustration and defiance.
"Rrgh—dammit…" he growled, struggling against the hardening reiatsu cocoon. The more he pushed, the more it pressed back, as if the mass itself were alive.
Not far away, Ganryū stood silently, eyes locked on Ichigo as the winds of spiritual pressure howled between them. His expression was unreadable, but his voice, when it came, dripped with bitter rage.
"For one thousand years…" he began, his voice low, gravelly, filled with the weight of centuries. "Our clan was exiled—cast into the deepest, most forsaken corners of the Dangai. Stripped of identity, of dignity, we clung to survival. We endured the torment of being forgotten, becoming shadows feeding on resentment… and hate."
As Ganryū spoke, the Valley of Screams trembled beneath them.
The twisted roots and massive branches around them began to shift and grow at an alarming pace. The valley's grotesque heart—once dormant—was awakening, thrumming with unstable energy. The ground cracked. The branches writhed. All around them, the tree at the center of the valley began to mutate.
"And now…" he roared, his eyes glowing with savage purpose, "our vengeance will finally be realized! I won't let anyone stand in our way!"
With a wave of his hand, Ganryū summoned a swarm of Blanks and in an instant, he reshaped them into dozens of razor-thin blades, all floating, shimmering with unstable reiatsu. With a flick of his fingers, he launched them toward the helpless Ichigo.
The blades struck with surgical precision.
One by one, they pierced Ichigo's torso, arms, and legs, digging into him like spectral thorns. Blood welled at the edges, but still, Ichigo refused to surrender, his eyes locked on Ganryū.
Ganryū paused, observing him with quiet intensity. His tone shifted—calmer, even philosophical.
"Why are you so desperate?" he asked. "The Shinenju… it's not even alive. It's nothing more than a condensed cluster of thoughts and fading memories. To call it a soul is laughable. To call it a person? Delusion."
"…You're wrong," Ichigo muttered, his voice strained but steady. A flicker of reiatsu burst from his body, and part of the binding mass cracked, freeing his left arm.
"Senna is here! Right now!" he shouted, gripping one of the spectral blades lodged in his abdomen. Gritting his teeth, he ripped it free, blood trickling down his side. "She was scared. She didn't understand what was happening… and she wanted someone to protect her."
He raised his arm defiantly, his reiatsu now blazing brighter.
"I made her a promise. I swore on my soul that I would protect her!"
That cry of conviction surged through the very fabric of the valley.
Ichigo's spiritual pressure exploded outward in a spiraling wave of black and red, snaking through the roots of the living tree. Far above, deep within the grotesque canopy, a soft pulse of reiatsu flickered in response. At the heart of the tree, where Senna lay unconscious and surrounded by an ocean of Blanks, something changed.
Her fingers twitched.
Her mind stirred.
Images returned—memories of her time with Ichigo, with Yato… of their laughter, of their battles and how the two protected her.
'It's true…' her thoughts whispered as the Blanks pressed in around her—not as captors, but now as companions. 'You're all… I'm…'
For the first time, she smiled, even in her weakened state. The Blanks, once wild and chaotic, settled, harmonizing with her spirit. Her reiatsu glowed—a soft, warm light—resonating with Ichigo's in perfect sync.
And then, through that connection, her voice rang out, not just through sound, but through soul.
"Ichigo!!"
He heard her.
The binding mass shattered around him with a violent surge of energy. The spiritual cocoon cracked and exploded outward in a halo of black light. Ichigo landed in a crouch, his breath heavy, eyes focused with renewed purpose.
He was about to charge forward—ready to tear through Ganryū and reach Senna—when a sudden green flash burst between them.
A surge of emerald reiatsu split the battlefield—and in that instant, Yato appeared.
He stood between Ichigo and Ganryū, his zanpakutō drawn, spiritual threads glowing and dancing around his arms like snakes preparing to strike.
"Ichigo," he said calmly, not turning to face his friend, "since your Bankai makes you all speedy, why don't you just dash off and save Senna already?"
Ichigo blinked, surprised. He hesitated, glancing at Yato's back.
"Are you sure—?"
"Relax," Yato exhaled, voice steady. "I came to thank our friend here."
Yato's gaze soften as he stared directly into Ganryū's eyes with a strange gentle smile.
Ichigo didn't fully understand—but something about Yato's tone, his posture, the way the entire battlefield seemed to shift around him, told him this wasn't the time to question it. All around them, the valley was collapsing, the roots growing erratic, the tree becoming unstable.
Trusting in his friend, Ichigo gave a short nod. "Don't do anything stupid," he muttered before vanishing in a blur, his Bankai-enhanced speed launching him into the heart of the Valley.
As the winds howled and the tree above them groaned, Ganryū made a move to follow.
But he stopped dead in his tracks.
Around him and Yato, countless red threads had bloomed from the air—woven from spiritual energy, wrapping around the branches and sky itself like a spider's web. Ganryū was surrounded.
Yato's calm voice cut through the tension.
"Let's have a little chat."
**
Soul Society — Seireitei, Sōkyoku Hill
A deafening sound began to echo across the walls of the Seireitei, cutting through the silence. Red warning lights flashed atop the highest towers, and the air itself seemed to vibrate with urgency.
From within the 12th Squad's headquarters, a panicked voice crackled through the communication lines, reaching every corner of the Soul Society
— "We'll pass the critical point in two minutes!" —
Inside the central control chamber, technicians in white haoris scrambled like ants around massive spirit monitors. Green and red reiryoku graphs flared wildly as the massive rift between dimensions continued to expand, threatening to tear apart the very fabric of reality.
Captain Mayuri Kurotsuchi, overseeing the situation with calculating eyes, remained eerily calm. But even he knew that they were running out of time.
Atop the towering Sōkyoku Hill, the highest point in Seireitei, a gust of spiritual wind swirled around the place.
Captain Ukitake stood beside Commander Yamamoto, his pale features etched with tension as he stared at the horizon. His white haori fluttered in the wind as if it, too, sensed the coming disaster. Above them, the sky over the Soul Society had begun to fracture, thin glowing lines of energy forming in midair like cracks in glass.
Ukitake clenched his fist. "Still no response?!" he demanded, turning to Yamamoto. "What are they doing down there?!"
Yamamoto's eyes narrowed, his voice low and unwavering. "Time is up."
"Sensei—!" Ukitake tried to argue, but Yamamoto raised his hand, silencing any further objection.
His ancient gaze stared straight ahead. "Fire the Kidō Cannon."
The Kidō Corps members standing in formation around the hill moved in unison. Their hands performed seals in the air, creating glowing golden symbols that pulsed with spiritual might.
Far below, the massive Kidō Cannon began to hum with terrifying energy. Reiryoku coalesced at its core—first as light, then as weight, then as sheer spiritual pressure. The weapon charged preparing to strike and beam of pure energy that pierced the sky and thundered toward the adhesion point, the unstable fracture that had formed between the World of the Living and the Soul Society. The force of it made the very air tremble.
**
Valley of Screams — Fragmenting Reality
The Valley of Screams had begun to unravel. The monstrous roots that once coiled through the void now quivered, splitting, growing, and collapsing in grotesque directions. The very sky above the valley was shattering—cracks of white light tearing through the endless twilight as though reality itself were beginning to bleed.
Near the warped portal that served as the exit from the valley, the group of Shinigami had gathered, eyes wide with alarm.
"Captain!" Matsumoto called out.
Hitsugaya's eyes locked onto the sky just in time to see the unmistakable glow of the Kidō Cannon's discharge far above them. His heart sank.
"They fired it…!" he breathed, realization dawning fast. "This dimension's going to collapse!"
"Shiro-chan!" called a familiar voice, urgent and breathless.
Momo sprinted toward the group. Beside her was Nemu, composed as ever. Both had just emerged victorious from their encounters with one of the Dark Ones and the Blanks.
Momo's eyes darted between Hitsugaya and the sky, panic rising in her chest. "What do we do now?"
Before Hitsugaya could respond, Nemu stepped forward, her gaze fixed on a grotesque roots in the distance. "The Substitutes Shinigamis haven't returned yet," she said calmly. "Logically, our best course of action is to assist them… or at the very least, wait."
A shockwave rippled across the valley. Pieces of the terrain began to float upward unnaturally, fragments of twisted branches and spiritual energy rising like debris before a storm.
Elsewhere in the Valley, Bau, having just struck down the form of Renji's Bankai with a violent blow. Segments of Hihiō Zabimaru clattered to the ground, momentarily dismantled.
But Renji smirked.
He planted his zanpakutō into the ground, letting his reiatsu rise like a wildfire. "Unfortunately for you…" he said, his voice firm and laced with defiance, "my Hihiō Zabimaru's a real thick-headed."
Before Bau could react, Renji's spiritual pressure surged.
The fallen segments of his Bankai responded, vibrating with life. One by one, they snapped back together, floating in the air, reconnecting with powerful surges of red light until the full serpentine skeleton of Hihiō Zabimaru reformed.
"If that's all you've got," Renji said with a grin, "you couldn't even scratch him—let alone break him."
With a roar, Renji swung his Bankai in a sweeping arc.
The massive, bone-like skull of Hihiō Zabimaru launched forward with crushing force, its serrated maw glowing with raw energy. Bau raised his weapon in a desperate attempt to block—but it was too late.
The impact was devastating.
Bau's body shattered instantly, breaking apart into reish. Dust and fragments of root flew in all directions as the giant Bankai head buried itself in the valley floor.
Meanwhile, Rukia darted across the fractured terrain, her movements sharp and precise, every step leaving a faint glimmer of frost in the air. Above and around her, shimmering chakrams spun all over the place. Each one had been forged and hurled by Jai, whose manic grin only widened the longer the fight dragged on.
With every flick of his wrist, another chakram materialized. Rukia's body moved nonstop, twisting and weaving through the gaps, her hair trailing behind her in the frigid wind that followed her every step.
She closed the distance in a blur of Shunpō, her Sode no Shirayuki flashing downward in a clean vertical strike. But Jai was ready—one of his weapons clashed against her blade with a metallic screech, sparks scattering in the cold air.
Jai's eyes were wild, almost feral. With every passing second, he absorbed more and more Blanks into his form, their spiritual essence writhing and merging with his own. His spiritual energy pulsed erratically, growing heavier, more unstable.
Still, raw strength wasn't enough to overwhelm her. Rukia's reiatsu poured into the air around them, spreading like a frost-laden fog. The icy pressure slowed his movements, stealing fractions of a second from his attacks—fractions she exploited mercilessly. When her blade wasn't striking, she was releasing bursts of Kidō, weaving between swordplay and spellwork with seamless precision.
Frustration began to gnaw at him. A straight contest of speed and steel wasn't working. So, with a snarl, Jai switched tactics—chakrams began appearing in a widening circle around her, dozens of them hovering at varying heights, their edges glowing faintly as they spun.
Rukia's eyes narrowed. It wasn't just the enemy that irritated her now—she could feel it again, faint but constant—Yato's anger, radiating from somewhere far across the valley. It clawed at the edge of her mind, an emotional weight that made her chest feel tighter, her patience thinner. She clicked her tongue in annoyance.
"Tch… how irritating…" she muttered under her breath.
Her feets crunched against frozen soil as she shifted her stance, every breath visible in the air. She moved again, manipulating her position until all the chakrams began converging toward the same point.
That was when Jai lunged, sensing an opening.
The temperature plummeted.
A perfect ring of ice bloomed at her feet, expanding outward in a burst of frost that raced along the ground.
<< Some no Mai, Tsukishiro! >> • 初の舞・月白, First Dance, Moon White •
From earth to sky, everything within the circle froze in an instant. The world inside turned to crystal, forming a towering pillar of translucent ice that trapped chakrams mid-flight, locking them in glittering suspension. Jai himself was caught within, his expression frozen in shock as the frost reached his very core.
The pillar pulsed once—then shattered, sending shards of ice cascading down in a deadly rain.
Rukia exhaled, her breath misting in the air, her shoulders loosening slightly. For a moment, she thought it was over
Then—
"Hhhha-ha-ha-ha…"
A low, mocking laugh echoed from somewhere beyond the settling frost.
Her eyes flicked to the side just in time to see it—a lone chakram spinning lazily in the distance, untouched by the ice.
It flared with light.
In an instant, Jai's form emerged from it—no, forms. His body split into multiple replicas, each one stepping out with a chakram in hand. The air filled again with the metallic whir of spinning blades as more weapons appeared in a storm around her.
"It's useless to resist!!" The voices crashed over her in a deafening chorus, each one identical, each one tinged with a manic glee that grated against the air. The countless replicas of Jai bared their teeth in matching, twisted smiles, their eyes glinting with an unhinged hunger.
Rukia's grip on Sode no Shirayuki tightened, her gaze narrowing. She shifted her stance, ready to meet the oncoming storm head-on. But then—
The very world around them changed.
The dim, fractured light of the Valley of Screams suddenly bled away into shadow, the colors draining as if someone had drawn a shroud across the sky. The ground shuddered under her feet—then, without warning, two immense rows of colossal blades erupted upward from the blackened soil. They rose in eerie silence, as if breaking the surface of an unseen pool, each emergence sending rippling waves outward across the shattered terrain. The metallic forest stretched in perfect symmetry, forming a grand corridor that framed Rukia at its center… and penned the many Jai replicas in with her.
The shift in spiritual pressure was unmistakable. Her heart eased for the first time since the fight began, and she turned her head slightly, relief flickering in her eyes.
"Nii-sama!" she breathed.
High above, standing on the jagged rise of a broken cliff, Byakuya Kuchiki gazed down at the scene. His expression a mask of cold, immaculate poise. His eyes locked on Jai—not with rage, but with a quiet, absolute certainty.
"Take pride in being erased by my Bankai," he said, his voice calm yet cutting, like the edge of the very steel he commanded.
"Scatter…"
<< Senbonzakura Kageyoshi >> • 千本桜景厳, Vibrant Display of a Thousand Cherry Blossoms •
The towering blades that formed the corridor trembled—and then exploded into motion. Each massive slab of steel shattered into thousands of razor-thin fragments, each fragment glimmering like a sliver of polished glass. In the fading light, they became indistinguishable from countless drifting petals, each one glowing faintly with a soft pink hue.
They descended in silence—then struck all at once.
The petal-storm surged forward, swallowing the clones in a cyclone of flashing light and whispering steel. The laughter of Jai fractured into screams that were shredded into nothing, their forms erased so completely that not even their reishi lingered. The air shimmered with the residual motion of the petals before they dissolved back into nothingness.
In the middle of the still-settling scene, Byakuya appeared behind Rukia without so much as a sound, his presence as seamless and inevitable as falling snow.
"We're leaving," he said, already turning, his steps measured and deliberate as he began walking toward the nearest path out. He didn't look back—he didn't need to.
Rukia exhaled slowly, lowering her sword. Her feet carried her after him for several paces.
But then—she stopped.
Her eyes drifted back toward the far side of the valley.
"Yato…" she whispered.
**
Ganryū's lips curled into a slow, knowing smile as he studied the young man before him. The Valley of Screams groaned all around them, roots splitting and twisting in the air like dying serpents, the fractured sky overhead threatening to collapse entirely. Yet in the middle of that chaos, Yato stood there—unmoved, calm, and almost detached, as if the world falling apart around them was a distant inconvenience.
"You come to thank me?" Ganryū asked, his tone mocking but laced with curiosity. "An interesting way to say you've come for revenge."
Yato's expression didn't so much as flicker. His shoulders lifted in a slow, deliberate shrug.
"Interpret it however you like," he replied, voice calm and even, as though they were conversing over tea instead of standing in a dying dimension. "I just have one question before I start making a mess here."
The ground rumbled beneath them as the Valley continued its slow collapse. Ganryū's grin widened, catching the faintest spark of interest in Yato's otherwise unreadable eyes.
"I imagine you want to know," Ganryū said, "how I discovered you're not the real Yato Yasakani."
Yato's head tilted ever so slightly.
Ganryū's voice took on a measured, almost taunting rhythm.
"That shouldn't surprise you. After all… we've been watching you for a long time. The boy who seemed to appear from nowhere, whose memories never seemed fixed, never consistent."
A faint crease formed between Yato's brows.
"For the longest time," Ganryū continued, "we thought you were the Shinenju itself. Imagine my surprise when I stumbled across the Blank of the actual Yato Yasakani not too long ago."
The words landed heavier than the twisting roots crashing in the distance. Yato knew exactly what that meant—Blanks were memoryless souls, empty shells. If Ganryū had found a Blank of Yato Yasakani, then somewhere in this world, the real Yato Yasakani had existed before he was brought into this body.
'That only confirms what I've suspected,' Yato thought, his mind sharpening like drawn steel. 'If there's a Blank version of me—or rather, of the real Yato—then his memories must exist somewhere as well… inside Senna.'
His gaze hardened, though his tone remained casual, almost bored.
"I suppose that's why you went to all the trouble of targeting me."
Ganryū let out a low chuckle, shaking his head.
"Don't flatter yourself. You're an anomaly, yes… but once we learned who the true Shinenju was, our interest in you faded. The only reason we struck at you first was simple—between you and Ichigo Kurosaki, you'd have been the more… problematic obstacle if we'd gone straight for the Shinenju."
From the warped tangle of roots surrounding them, pale, formless Blanks began to ooze forth like ghosts from deep water. They drifted toward Ganryū, their bodies dissolving into streams of reishi that flowed into him, bolstering the spiritual pressure radiating from his frame.
"Still," he went on, voice deepening as his power swelled, "I can't deny it—you are… exceptional. Talented beyond your years. A mind as sharp as your blade. An unnatural talent for concealing your spiritual pressure. The ability to manipulate unseen constructs…"
The ground trembled again as more Blanks surged toward him. Ganryū's eyes gleamed with an unsettling mix of admiration and hostility.
"And perhaps most dangerous of all—your unpredictable way of fighting."
Yato remained silent, watching as Ganryū drew in more Blanks. The pale, formless souls swirled toward him like moths to a flame, dissolving into his body and swelling his already formidable spiritual pressure. The air thickened with raw energy, yet Yato's expression didn't shift into fear or anger—in fact, there was an almost imperceptible ease in his demeanor, a faint exhale that carried the weight of private relief.
'From the way he's talking,' Yato thought to himself, 'he has no idea what my Fullbring even does… probably doesn't even know what a Fullbring is.'
A faint, crooked smile tugged at Yato's lips.
"You give me far more credit than I deserve," he said, resting his zanpakutō, Ōkagetsu, across his shoulder with casual ease. The black lacquered sheath of the blade remained planted firmly against the gnarled root beneath his feet, as though anchoring him in place amid the chaos. "And for the record—I wasn't being sarcastic earlier. I really did come to thank you."
Ganryū arched an eyebrow, confusion briefly disrupting his predatory focus. Everything about Yato's presence here screamed revenge, and yet the young man's tone was disarmingly sincere.
Yato's voice lowered slightly, his words deliberate.
"You're right. I'm not Yato Yasakani… at least, not before. Since the moment I woke up in this world, in this body, all I've wanted was to open my eyes one day and find out this was all just a dream. And when I realized it wasn't, I just wanted to figure out a way to live quietly here—a nearly impossible goal unless you work hard for it."
He shifted his grip on Ōkagetsu, then idly raised his free hand to his temple, scratching lightly with his index finger as though this were an idle conversation instead of a confrontation.
"The problem is, once I got these powers, I got… complacent. Thought I didn't need to push myself anymore. I let myself think about my old life, let myself get tangled up in things that shouldn't even concern me. I neglected my own abilities."
His gaze slid back to Ganryū—calm, measured, almost detached.
"Honestly? Out of everything that's happened, and everything that's going to happen, you're the least of my problems, Ganryū. But the fact that I nearly died at your hands… well, that was a wake-up call. So, as a token of gratitude, I'll tell you a few things."
Ganryū's eyes narrowed. He still couldn't understand where Yato's confidence came from, not when the constant absorption of Blanks had made Ganryū's power swell like a storm tide.
"First," Yato began, "I'm not as sharp-minded as you think. I just… know what's going to happen, and I act in whatever way benefits me most."
"Second, I'm no master of concealing my spiritual pressure. The truth is, my power has a will of its own—and it hides my reiatsu inside a little pocket dimension. It only lets some of it leak out when I'm tired… or when it decides it's convenient."
He sighed, almost as though confessing to some minor annoyance. Sliding the blade of his zanpakutō back into its sheath—though Ōkagetsu still shimmered in its Shikai state—he continued.
"Third… I may not look it, but I've got a far shorter fuse than Ichigo. I'm impatient, I'm less forgiving—and I'd rather show you than tell you. So just this once, I'll let you feel my spiritual pressure."
Ganryū's eyes widened instantly. The shift was sudden and violent—Yato's reiatsu crashed into the space between them like a tidal wave, suffocating in its density. That much power, hidden so effortlessly until now… it was unnatural.
Yato's lips curved into a faint, almost playful smile.
"Fourth… I'm also very childish. I hate losing. So even if I don't need to use this against you… I'm going to. Just because you irritated me."
The oppressive pressure intensified, a storm in full bloom, until the air itself seemed to hum. Yato's voice, quiet but steady, cut through it all with a single word—one that made the very ground beneath them shudder.
"Bankai…"