Whoosh!
A petite figure shot forward like a cannonball, slamming into the massive mask of the central Gillian. Spiderweb cracks radiated outward, accompanied by sharp, splintering sounds.
The Gillian's mountainous body reeled back under the blow, a long, mournful wail escaping its maw.
"Angh!"
Hearing the low groan, civilians fleeing the streets couldn't help but glance back toward the sound.
Their eyes caught a flash of brilliant blade-light.
"My mood's foul enough today!"
Saito's straw sandals pressed into the Gillian's pitted mask. With a single swing of her Zanpakuto, the wailing beast froze.
As her figure launched dozens of meters away with the recoil, the black colossus tilted like a falling sky, its severed head crashing to one side with a thunderous boom.
Saito lifted her head, her expression dark. Perhaps due to her earlier anger and a few extra cups of sake, a faint flush still colored her pale cheeks. She let out a soft hiccup.
"Guh~"
Hiccuping, she cursed under her breath, her glare at the rift growing fiercer, teeth gritted.
"They know I can't stand that woman, and still brought her to drink with us!"
"What's that supposed to mean?!"
"That bastard Makoto!"
The Gillian's collapse stunned the Hollows crawling from the rift, their scarlet gazes locking onto Saito's single eye.
"What're you staring at?!"
The girl's eye widened in fury, her shout utterly unreasonable.
More Hollows poured relentlessly from the sudden rift, drawn by the massive reiatsu source. Those farther back, unable to resist their primal hunger, roared piercingly, countless Hollows surging toward her like a tidal wave.
Like a starving wolf pack charging prey.
But they clearly misjudged their place.
A hurricane of reiatsu erupted from beneath Saito's unassuming sandals. Her small frame plunged headlong into the sea of Hollows without hesitation.
Like a tiger among sheep, no enemy could withstand her.
Where she passed, a storm of blood and severed limbs followed.
"Saito-senpai's got some energy."
Katori slipped past a stiff-faced Makoto, whispering with a chuckle, earning a glare from the beleaguered man.
But after that brief tease, she drew her Zanpakuto.
As the blade spun across her slender fingers, it morphed into a long naginata.
Her gentle demeanor turned cold and resolute.
With a step, she vanished.
When she reappeared, her silhouette stood high against the frosty sky.
Behind her, dozens of giant Hollows plummeted toward the streets.
But as they hit the ground, fine, near-invisible seams split open, slicing their bone masks in two under the pull of inertia.
Their massive bodies crashed down.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Chika's form flickered like a shadow in the night. Compared to three hundred years ago, when she first fought Makoto, her speed and strength had grown noticeably. As she moved, an imperceptible transparent kido enveloped her, making her heavy fists explode like bombs.
Every Hollow she struck head-on burst into a mess of shredded flesh, like popped balloons.
In mere moments, she cleared the rift's outermost Hollows.
Even Captain Sumashi, who'd felt a hint of inferiority at the drinking party, displayed astonishing lethality against these Gillians and lesser Hollows. His lanky frame glided through the swarm with elegant steps.
The surrounding Hollows seemed sliced by an invisible web of lasers, reduced to scattered puzzle pieces.
Until his final step, he maintained a single hand on his hilt.
As if he'd never drawn his blade.
Though the rift, leading to who-knows-where, still spewed Hollows, the four captains' suppression was relentless. Hundreds of Hollows were slaughtered, pushed back, not a single one escaping their encirclement.
The streets filled with corpses dissolving into black smoke.
Civilians, witnessing Shinigami slaughter Hollows up close for the first time, froze, staring in awe.
"What's wrong?"
Unohana's voice came from beside Makoto as he watched the scene. She glanced at him, her usually half-closed eyes opening slightly. As she spoke, she reached out, smoothing the furrow in his brow, asking, "Just some common Hollows."
"Why the frown?"
"Hm?"
Makoto wasn't sure if he was being oversensitive. At this point, the true masterminds capable of major schemes shouldn't even be born yet.
But recent division incidents and this sudden Seireitei rift stirred uneasy suspicions.
That's why he'd sent Ryoma to guard the prison immediately.
Lacking evidence, he hesitated to share with Unohana.
"I hope… I'm overthinking it."
Makoto's expression grew serious. His left hand, crossed over his chest, flicked out like swatting a fly.
Bang!
A giant Hollow, charging past with a malformed bull-like head, exploded into mush, as if dropped from a skyscraper onto concrete.
Its massive body hurtled dozens of meters, crashing into a storefront, eliciting gasps behind.
Unohana gave him a lingering look.
At their level, little in the Soul Society could faze them.
What was Makoto worried about?
In moments, the Gillian tearing open the rift and the hundreds of Hollows were wiped out by the four.
"Peh!"
Saito, blood-soaked, spat on the ground, her Zanpakuto slung over her shoulder.
Her expression suggested this rampage had vented her frustrations, easing her mood.
But seeing Makoto and Unohana, pristine and untouched, her temper flared again.
"Hey!"
"You shouted about jumping in, so why're you just standing there?!"
Saito pointed at Makoto, hopping mad in midair.
Her peripheral glance flicked to the figure beside him.
Super! Annoying!
"Because before I could act, Saito's figure stole my gaze."
"I forgot all about drawing my blade."
Makoto lied smoothly, unfazed.
"Hah?!"
"You, trying to mess with me again?"
Though she snapped back, a flush crept onto her cheeks.
This guy…
How does he always say such embarrassing things in front of others without batting an eye?!
Saito thought, instinctively avoiding Makoto's curved, smiling eyes.
"Excuse me!"
Chika's voice cut through at the worst moment. "No time for bonding now, Makoto-kun."
He hovered in midair, gazing into the distant night.
Though his words carried a playful tone, his expression was unusually grave.
"Looks like tonight's overtime is getting extended."
Everyone froze.
Following his gaze, their brows furrowed.
It wasn't just the Seireitei.
From the east, south, and north Rukongai, perhaps the 5th District, maybe farther, waves of abnormal reiatsu pulsed.
A slight focus revealed swarms of Hollows and the reishi reactions of countless souls being devoured and dissipating.
Before they could act, Sasakibe's voice rang in the captains' minds.
Bakudo #77: Tenteikura.
"By order of the Captain-Commander, all division captains are to immediately organize combat units and disperse to the Rukongai to suppress the Hollow outbreaks."
"No delays!"
"Yes, sir!"
No further words were needed. Yamamoto's authority in the Gotei 13 was absolute.
But before Makoto could move, Senjumaru's voice intruded into his mind.
"Hold on."
"Makoto."
"Go to West 5th District." Senjumaru interrupted. "There's a troublesome one there."
Makoto paused, puzzled. "Something wrong?"
"I don't know." She replied.
…
12th Division, Underground Research Facility.
Senjumaru stood on her bone-wheel platform, her skeletal arms brandishing various test tubes and tools.
But the poised beauty's brow was deeply furrowed as she stared at the screen on the wall.
A hyper-precise map of the Seireitei and the surrounding twenty Rukongai districts was zoomed in on West 5th District.
The map clearly showed marked terrain, villages, and roads.
And white dots representing souls.
But for some reason, those candle-like dots had been snuffed out in swathes, like a gust extinguishing flames.
Even areas with abnormal spatial reactions didn't show such widespread impact.
Kirio, recently arrived at the 12th Division, frowned at the anomaly.
"Senjumaru."
Kirio lowered her voice. "This thing you made, is it broken?"
Thwack.
A bone arm tapped her head, eliciting a "Guh!" Sound.
Senjumaru turned, her voice cool. "If a trinket I whipped up broke, that'd be the best outcome I could hope for."
"Unfortunately…"
"It's far more troublesome."
"Also." She added, as if remembering, "tell the Seireitei guard to stay sharp and monitor the interior."
"This little device can't see areas covered by barriers."
"Eh? It's that useless?"
Kirio muttered under her breath.
Thwack.
Another tap to her head.
…
The night breeze whispered, the silence heavy.
Makoto crossed four districts alone, pausing at the border of West 5th District.
Before him lay a small village of barely a dozen households.
Close to the main district and the Seireitei, with a major trade road nearby, the village's paths and houses were tidy.
Unknown vegetables and fruit trees grew in yards, thatched roofs were tightly bound, and wooden windows were shut.
Not a sound.
Sound?
A thought struck him, and Makoto, who'd planned to leave quickly, froze.
What soul's breathing could escape his ears while sleeping?
With that, he strode into a seemingly quiet courtyard, kicking open the tightly shut wooden door and stepping into the dark room.
His pupils contracted.
Two sets of clothes, different styles, lay sprawled toward the door, frozen in disarray.
The muddy floor bore signs of a struggle, quickly ended.
"Eaten by a Hollow?"
Makoto frowned, using his scabbard to lift the clothes.
At their center, a hollow puncture mark remained, edges faintly stained with blood.
Dropping the clothes, he stormed to another room.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Still nothing!
The village held only dozens of empty, bloodstained garments.
Not a single living soul.
All had been silently consumed in their sleep, reduced to scattered reishi with minimal blood, no chance to resist.
Makoto's brows knit tightly.
No time to dwell, he flashed through villages and towns along Senjumaru's route using Shunpo.
But every place was the same.
No extra traces.
"This appetite… a Menos Grande?"
"Must be hundreds of people."
Makoto's frown deepened, staring at small clothes scattered in a haystack.
The marks showed someone hiding, only to be dragged out.
Normal Hollows ate a few souls, then returned to Hueco Mundo to digest.
Killing hundreds or thousands just to "feed" was unprecedented, even for him.
"Like a starving wretch, licking even the grease off the plate."
"But with this strength…"
"Hunting Hollows of its own level in Hueco Mundo would be more efficient, no?"
Makoto remained puzzled.
At the Menos Grande level, Gillian or Adjuchas, their appetite required staggering numbers of souls.
Thus, they fed on peers or stronger.
Killing hundreds of ordinary souls here not only risked Shinigami attention but was inefficient.
"So." Makoto murmured, eyeing the clothes, "It has a reason to do this…?"
"Senjumaru."
"Can you see my view now?"
"Oh, I've seen everything." Senjumaru replied from the screen, her tone meaningful. "You've met a good kid who cleans its plate."
Makoto clutched his ear. "Got any useful clues?"
"Nope."
Senjumaru said casually, "I'm just an ordinary woman with a few hobbies. Best not expect too much from me, Makoto-kun."
Behind her, Kirio muttered, "Ordinary old lady with a flat chest!"
Thwack!
A satisfying head-tap.
Makoto had no time for trivialities, his gaze sweeping over the streets littered with abandoned clothes, his mood growing darker.
In his previous life's knowledge of the original story, no such event had ever occurred.
As he stood, grasping at straws, Senjumaru's casual voice came through.
"But if its goal was just to 'eat its fill,' it's being a bit too conspicuous, don't you think?"
"…"
Her words snapped a taut string in Makoto's mind.
The rift that abruptly appeared in the Seireitei, then in other Rukongai directions, yet conspicuously spared the 'visited' Western District.
Such a crude, simplistic attempt to cover tracks was quintessentially Hollow-like, making it hard to immediately suspect 'strategy.'
Until Senjumaru's remark shattered that illusion.
"It's diverting attention?"
"For a Hollow, if the goal is just to 'eat,' who in the Soul Society besides Shinigami could satisfy its appetite?"
"These widespread traces around here are likely a decoy."
"But Shinigami who can fight back aren't as appealing as those with great power who, for various reasons, can't act."
"Only then can it gorge quickly and escape the Seireitei relatively unscathed."
"So-"
Realization hit, and Makoto's senses sharpened, his fingertips tracing the air before him.
"Bakudo #77: Tenteikura!"
In an instant, his reiatsu surged across vast distances, homing in on Ryoma Kuruyashiki.
He should still be at the prison, right?
But…
Crack.
The reiatsu link to Ryoma was abruptly severed by an unknown force.
No connection!?
…
"Hey!"
"What are you doing?"
"Stop right there."
Ryoma Kuruyashiki stood at the Nest of Maggots entrance, towering over a small figure cloaked entirely in black, his hand on his zanpakuto hilt.
His gaze was wary.
Behind him, other 9th Division members, hearing the commotion, quickly advanced, forming a loose encirclement.
Just that morning, dozens of battle-hardened Genji School veterans had been locked away here.
Though only seated officer-level, they weren't to be underestimated. If some schemer set them loose to wreak havoc, they'd be a force to reckon with.
In times of sudden calamity like now, preventing escalation was critical.
That was the prison squad's duty!
But at Ryoma's challenge, the cloaked figure only emitted a strange, squirming sound.
"Slrp."
The next moment, the air howled sharply.
Ryoma's eyes widened, his hand yanking his zanpakuto free.
Shing, shing, shing,
Several pale tendrils shot from beneath the cloak, arrow-like, piercing toward Ryoma and his squad, their swelling forms nearly blotting out their vision.
Boom!
Caught off-guard, even Ryoma barely reacted, spiraling like a cannonball into the building behind, kicking up a cloud of dust.
"Vice-Captain Kuruyashiki!"
The Shinigami behind him froze, shouting instinctively.
But before they could act, the cloaked freak extended more tendrils, stabbing into the ground with wet thuds.
A cyan barrier enveloped the Nest of Maggots entrance.
The small figure stepped forward, its embedded tendrils snapping off.
It moved lightly toward the Shinigami, as if they didn't exist.
Tension gripped the squad.
"Tch!"
"That's some strength."
But from the rubble, a figure rose.
Ryoma emerged through the dust, his massive hand tearing off his shredded clothes, revealing a bear-like torso. Gripping his Zanpakuto, he wiped blood from his mouth.
"Come on!"
As he roared, more tendrils shot from the cloak without warning.
This time, Ryoma tracked their paths. His bulky frame dodged nimbly, grabbing a tendril with a bang, his Zanpakuto slashing down.
Skreee!
The blade bit into tough, steel-like skin, sinking only halfway before stopping.
Ryoma's pupils contracted, yanking his blade back to counter a gust from behind.
Clang!
Tendril met blade, the shockwave stinging their cheeks.
But Ryoma seemed unfazed, his wild hair whipping as his eyes tracked every tendril's movement.
His blade danced through the flurry, impenetrable.
Even the Shinigami beside him couldn't catch the blur of their clash.
"Just this?!"
Ryoma grinned ferociously, switching to a one-handed grip, his sweeping strike sending a tendril flying, nearly toppling the cloaked figure.
Seizing another tendril, his biceps bulged, dragging the figure toward him with brute force.
His Zanpakuto rose high.
"Die!"
Ryoma's eyes blazed, his shout like thunder.
The blade crashed down.
Boom!!
The small figure staggered, the ground splintering outward, shockwaves rolling.
But the descending blade was caught by two crossed tendrils.
Ryoma's eyes flashed with shock.
In that split-second pause, two thicker tendrils erupted from the cloak, slamming into his broad chest with a dull thud.
Thud!
Ryoma's feet sank into the ground, half-crouching, his blade carving a long furrow.
He looked up at the seemingly small foe.
Eight tendrils now protruded from the cloak.
The gash he'd made healed rapidly, like child's clay, leaving no trace.
Hierro.
High-speed regeneration.
A Menos Grande?
How did it infiltrate here?
Questions swirled in Ryoma's mind.
But facing the creature's menacing aura, he grinned even more savagely.
Looks like he'd need to get serious.
As he thought this,
Clang!
The anchored tendrils shattered.
The barrier over the Nest of Maggots crumbled like glass under a hammer.
Sensing a terrifying force behind, the cloaked figure whipped around.
Countless tendrils shot toward the source of the monstrous reiatsu.
Boom!!!
Ryoma's eyes widened.
Only now did he realize.
This thing had been holding back, too.
Its power was nearly ten times what he'd faced.
And before those tendrils stood a figure he knew all too well.
Zing!
Makoto, left hand on his hilt, vanished abruptly from the tendrils and the stunned gazes around him.
Tap.
His foot touched the ground, no trace of Shunpo's usual flourish.
Silent.
He stepped forward, as casual as ever, scolding, "How many times have I told you?"
"When trapped, prioritize escape and call for help!"
"Not brawling in a cage."
"How many times do I have to say it?"
Makoto chided like a parent, his tone mild.
A dull thud came from behind.
Dozens of tendrils, along with a headless corpse, collapsed.
In Makoto's right hand was… no, not a head, but a tumor-like orb.
Without its controller, the cloaked form shrank into a horn-like tendril as thick as a waist.
The dozen tendrils it had fired were sliced clean.
The cuts were mirror-smooth.
Ryoma stared, stunned.
The key was…
Despite seeing it countless times, he still couldn't catch Makoto sheathing his blade until he spoke.
Man.
Still so far behind.
He thought.
***
Bonus Chapter:
100 Power Stones = 1 BC
300 Power Stones = 2 BC
500 Power Stones = 3 BC
700 Power Stones = 4 BC
1000 Power Stones = 5 BC
***
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