"Use my Shikai… on you? "
Hōshō Ayame froze on the spot after hearing Yūshirō Shihōin's words, her eyes full of confusion.
"That's right. Use your Shikai on me," Yūshirō nodded lightly as he spoke.
"You're joking! "
"You already know what my Shikai does, don't you? Even so… why would you want me to use it on you? Do you want to die by my hand? "
Ayame's voice rose, tinged with panic. She couldn't understand why her young master was forcing her like this.
Her angry expression made her look like a tiny kitten bristling with fur—furious, yet strangely adorable.
"It's fine~"
"I won't die. Don't you believe me? "
Yūshirō smiled, gently taking her delicate hand bound in its metal gauntlet, and pressed it toward his chest.
In an instant, a mysterious, ink-black butterfly-shaped tattoo began to bloom across his chest—elegant, beautiful, and ominous.
"Now for the second strike…"
Still guiding Ayame's hand, Yūshirō drove the needle of her Zanpakutō toward the same spot again, invoking its power: the ability known as Two Strikes, Certain Death.
"Master Yūshirō! " Ayame cried out in despair. "My Zanpakutō's ability is two-strike death! If Suzumebachi hits the same spot again, you really… you really will die! "
She couldn't understand why he was doing this to her, forcing her to use a power that could kill him. Her heart ached with anguish.
"It's all right…"
Yūshirō brushed her pale cheek with his free hand, then drove her hand down once more.
Again, the venomous needle pierced the butterfly mark.
"Terminate!"
A terrifying surge of spiritual pressure erupted. Yūshirō's body collapsed to the ground.
"Y-Young Master! "
Ayame's tears spilled uncontrollably as she dropped to her knees, cradling his head in her lap. She wept in grief.
"Why? Why did this happen? Does a Zanpakutō that can even slay its own master deserve to exist at all? "
She tore Suzumebachi from her hand and hurled it aside, then sobbed like a helpless kitten that had lost its master.
"Pfft~"
"Fooled you~"
"I told you, I can't die. Because I'm invincible! "
Yūshirō suddenly pulled a silly face from where his head lay in her lap.
"M-Master?! Is it really you? "
Her sorrow turned into joy, though she still wasn't certain.
"Of course it's me, you silly girl."
Yūshirō leapt back to his feet and brushed the dust from his clothes.
"It really is you… but why? You should have been killed by my Suzumebachi's two-strike death! "
"That's what I wanted to show you. Remember this: you can trust your Zanpakutō, because it's part of your soul. Your soul will never lie to you. But don't place blind faith in its power, and never depend on it completely. Because while your Zanpakutō won't deceive you, its ability might fail you."
Yūshirō ruffled her short hair into a mess, smiling warmly.
"I… I understand! "
Her eyes flickered with a mix of realization and doubt as she nodded.
"To put it simply… when faced with an enemy whose spiritual pressure is overwhelmingly greater, no matter how powerful your ability is, it can be nullified. Because the battles of Shinigami are battles of spiritual pressure. Understand? "
"Yes! That much, I understand! "
Her eyes shone with determination as she nodded again.
"That's my clever little bee."
Yūshirō chuckled, patting her head.
Above them, a jet-black crow flapped its wings, recording everything from the sky.
"How terrifying… So battles between Shinigami really are determined by spiritual pressure? Hahaha…"
On the rooftop of Shin'ō Academy's main building, a brown-haired youth with spectacles watched, his gentle smile giving him the harmless air of a friendly neighbor.
"But it seems… aside from Captain-Commander Yamamoto, another mountain now blocks my path."
"How fascinating…"
Behind that warm façade, however, lay something hidden—something no one could see.
Meanwhile, Ayame, still in Shikai, continued sparring with Yūshirō.
"Faster! You need to be faster! "
"Your Zanpakutō is small and delicate—it can't clash directly with larger weapons. From the moment you released your Shikai, speed became your only path to victory."
"I understand! "
Ayame focused, striking relentlessly.
"Good. Keep it up! Pair your attacks with flash step! "
"Excellent. And at the right moment, supplement with Kidō—start from the simplest, like Byakurai, to cover for your blade's short reach! "
Yūshirō had decided long ago, from the moment he first saw her Shikai, that he would teach her Shunko—the technique his elder sister had created. In his eyes, Ayame resembled his sister so much it was uncanny, and Shunko suited her perfectly.
And so the days passed—school by day, battle lessons by night.
Four years flew by.
In the Shihōin clan's training grounds, a petite figure with half-length hair stood across from Yūshirō, steadying her breath and spiritual pressure.
"Shunko!"
A terrifying burst of reiatsu roared upward, wrapping around her back and shoulders. Shunko—an art that fused hand-to-hand combat with Kidō, enveloping the body in destructive energy.
Though Ayame had only managed to fuse the simplest Hadō spell, Shō, into her body, even that was enough to bring about a dramatic transformation in her combat ability.