Tonight over Soul Society, clouds stacked thick. Moonlight smothered. Summer wind hissed through the alleys.
He didn't hide his reiatsu. The first to arrive was a man with a cute girl draped over his shoulder.
"This way—this way, Ken-chan!"
The man couldn't sense reiatsu; he had to let the girl on his shoulder point the path.
Seeing Shuuichi sitting alone on the bridgehead, a mask on his face and a short blade lodged in his chest, the man's whole body sparked with excitement.
"Didn't expect we'd meet again like this, Shuuichi!"
"I didn't expect a certain directionless Kenpachi to find me this fast."
Shuuichi set one hand on the Zanpakutō (Soul-Cutter Sword) at his hip. Newly unsealed, it pulsed with a craving to be spent.
He had considered a last-second heel turn—handing Kisuke and the others to Aizen while they were cornered.
Then he looked at himself now, and dropped it.
Aside from maybe pleasing Aizen for a heartbeat, it offered him nothing.
Even if Aizen caught Kisuke and took the half Hōgyoku (Breakdown Sphere)… so what?
Without future Orihime's rejection power, fusing two Hōgyoku shards would still be rough.
And a not-yet-complete Aizen wasn't going to flip the table against all Soul Society just to save Shuuichi.
So—
When Kenpachi yelled for another glorious fight, Shuuichi jumped from the bridge, left foot kissing stone.
Nadegiri (Clean Slice).
Reiatsu slammed into reiatsu. River water leapt skyward and hung as a curtain.
"Advance, Heisha! Kikaku: Kaze (Stratagem: Wind)!"
A breeze skinned over Shuuichi, then wrapped his whole body and blade—gone.
This wasn't a friendly spar. Shuuichi chose to fight dirty.
Kaze only hides the strike visually; the blow's reiatsu ripple still betrays it.
In straight fights it's a weak trick, so he rarely used it.
But against a guy who can't feel reiatsu—Kenpachi—yeah, that's a little scummy.
Kaze: Bungetsugiri (Wind—Split-Moon Cut)!
Red flecks flew. Kenpachi could only dodge based on instinct.
It didn't cool him.
In truth, the harder the fight, the sharper his grin.
"More, Shuuichi!"
Unafraid that last stroke nearly bisected him, Kenpachi swung on pure battle sense.
A miss.
Behind him, Shuuichi's heavy reiatsu rose.
"Ken-chan!"
Yachiru's cry popped from afar.
Kenpachi spun and hewed. "Got you!"
Steel crashed and blew the wind-cloak off Shuuichi, revealing his full form.
"So this trick can be scattered too!"
Kenpachi smiled wider—maybe for breaking Shuuichi's gambit, maybe for finding the right opponent.
If Retsu stood here, she'd only click her tongue.
Because Kenpachi's reiatsu dropped again.
Chasing an equal, he had sealed himself for centuries. Even weakened, he still outmuscled most captains. But with Shuuichi's Hollowfication cracking his ceiling, that old peak no longer towered over him.
"Yakuryū (Flow Choke)!"
At blade contact, Shuuichi's voice went cold. Kenpachi felt his body snag for a heartbeat.
Then Shuuichi slammed a palm to his gut:
"Hadō no 63: Kaen Raikōhō (Flame—Thunder Roar Cannon)!"
Lightning flared. Flame rolled. The blast flung Kenpachi hundreds of meters.
"Ken-chan!!"
Yachiru's shout carried. Shuuichi glanced over and looked away.
No follow-up.
Because a small form had ghosted right up to him.
"Jinteki Shakusetsu! Suzumebachi! (Sting All Enemies to Death! Hornet!)"
Fingers halted a hair from his chest. The owner's voice shook with a question.
"Why, Shuuichi-sama!"
"Do I need to explain, Soi Fon? Look at me. There's no second path. Soul Society won't have me."
Shuuichi flicked a token cut; she slipped by it, neat as ever.
"That's not true! You're still lucid—you're not like the others!"
Soi Fon bit her lip, flat chest rising and falling.
"What part isn't?" Shuuichi smiled, bitter. "To Central 46—to the nobles—I'm a Hollow. Hollow means danger. Danger gets cleansed. Why else send you?"
"No, Shuuichi-sama—I'll explain it to Sōtaichō and Central 46! They'll—"
Shuuichi shook his head. "And Yoruichi-dono?"
"Yoruichi-dono…"
Her teeth clicked. She had no answer.
When Marechiyo brought word that Yoruichi had rebelled—and that Hollowfied Shuuichi was striding Seireitei's main street—her head had just… buzzed.
She'd darted out before thinking anything through.
Why had her two most revered people turned into this overnight?
"Soi Fon, it's not that complicated. Ask yourself one thing."
He looked softly at the doubt in her eyes.
"What thing?"
"Right or wrong aside—will you come with us?"
"I…"
She hesitated. She didn't know.
So Shuuichi gave her the answer.
"If you don't know now—treat me as your enemy, Soi Fon. Only then will you have the chance to choose again later."
He leveled his Zanpakutō at her.
"I won't hold back. If you don't fight with the resolve to kill me, your hesitation will be meaningless, because—
you'll die."
Reiatsu coiled on his blade.
"Hadō no 4: Byakurai (Pale Lightning)!"
Light lanced through her chest, almost punching her heart.
As the numbness spread, she finally grasped what he'd meant.
If she didn't see him as an enemy, he really would kill her.
Is he still… the Shuuichi-sama I knew…?
Soi Fon fell from the air.
Yachiru slid beneath and caught her; Kaidō's glow bloomed.
Up above, Kenpachi crashed back in.
"Not enough! Shuuichi—hit harder!"
Steel met steel, again and again.
Watching him move unfazed after eating that last blast, Shuuichi envied the cursed gift.
Heaven really spoon-feeds some people—Kenpachi types.
The longer they fought, the more Kenpachi adapted to Shuuichi's tempo. Shuuichi had already shown other Shikai (Initial Release) tricks in their past spars.
Trading with Kenpachi's unreasonable barrage, Shuuichi judged:
Shikai alone wouldn't threaten him anymore.
He'd planned to sucker-punch with a fresh trick—Kikaku: Kaze (Stratagem: Wind)—something Kenpachi hadn't seen.
It worked—until Soi Fon crashed the moment, and he missed the finishing blow.
Now, with Kenpachi raging and Soi Fon patched and moving again—
Only Bankai (Final Release) would do.
Hi: Bungetsugiri (Flame—Split-Moon Cut)!
A sweeping slash forced the berserker back; Bakudō no 39: Enkōsen (Arc Shield) warded Soi Fon's dart.
Shuuichi let his reiatsu roar. "Bankai (Final Release)!"
"Here we go—Bankai!"
Kenpachi's excitement spiked. Once again, he praised his own eyes—choosing Shuuichi as his lieutenant had been right on the money!
He sprang, blade rising.
Normally, Shuuichi would stop this easy. Kenpachi had already drafted the next steps in his head.
But this time, Shuuichi didn't even try. He drove up into the strike.
Did Bankai make you stupid?
That was Kenpachi's first thought—
And then he knew he was wrong.
He tried to parry Shuuichi's blade—one aimed at his face even if it cost Shuuichi a wound—
And found his arm losing strength mid-swing.
In the corner of his eye—an unseen slash carved his body, nearly severing his right arm.
"Ken-chan!"
Soi Fon's shock echoed. The next instant, Kenpachi—still blazing a moment ago—took Shuuichi's edge across the face, blood sheeting down.
Shuuichi, who had eaten Kenpachi's cut head-on, stood whole again—his body knitting almost as fast as he was hit.
"What is going on?"
Kenpachi's stumble froze Soi Fon's attempt at a pincer.
Even with all her time training under Shuuichi, she'd never seen his Bankai—much less this crooked power.
Truth is, almost no one in Soul Society knew it.
As former Fourth Division vice-captain, he had almost never needed to fight publicly.
And he'd been Eleventh's vice-captain for barely over a month.
"Shuuichi-sama… must it be like this?"
"Nothing else left, Soi Fon~"
He turned to her. "And you can't kill me."
"You're too confident, Shuuichi-sama!"
One poke to set her off.
Shunpō (Flash Step). She snapped behind him.
"Bakudō no 30: Shitotsu Sansen (Beak-Pierce Triple Flash)!"
The thinking was clean—if she couldn't read the Bankai, bind him first.
But most of her Kidō was taught by Shuuichi. Throwing Kidō in front of a Kidō specialist is asking to get schooled.
"Soi Fon—do you know what Kidō is, at its core?"
His voice drifted, and in her wide eyes he was suddenly in front of her.
Her binding—gone, erased.
"Kidō is reishi arranged and driven in precise tracks. If you master a spell perfectly, you can oppose it with the same spell and cancel it out. We call that Han-Kisōsatsu (Counter-Kidō Kill)."
"Jinteki Shakusetsu! Suzumebachi!"
Soi Fon seized the opening and drove two fingers.
"No—"
Shuuichi started to say "No use," but two cuts hammered him from behind.
Down below, Yachiru had, at some point, released her Zanpakutō.
"Come out—Sanpō Kenjū (Three-Step Sword Beasts)!"
Two humanoids flanked her—one long-faced skull, furred, with horned brow and jaw, in black pelt, gripping a halberd; the other short and squat, all in fur but the eyes, clutching a cleaver.
Both swung with Yachiru—two phantom slashes drilling into Shuuichi.
Whether Yachiru had sniffed something out or by luck, her own cuts never touched Shuuichi—only the beasts' blows hit him.
At once, two invisible slashes kicked back and gutted the summons, gouging them deep. Shuuichi's brief stall let Soi Fon stamp a Hōmonka (Hornet Crest Mark) on him—
And her shoulder split in the same breath, backlash from his Bankai reading her strike.
"No Hōmonka…?"
Shuuichi glanced at her wound, thinking.
Reishi gathered in his palm—Hadō no 63: Raikōhō (Thunder Roar Cannon)—forcing distance.
"As long as your body is hit, it reflects the exact same attack. But extra effects on the attack don't rebound.
Shuu-chan, I figured your Bankai out~"
Yachiru waved, delighted.
"Sharp eyes, little Yachiru. That fast, huh?"
Shuuichi didn't deny it.
All of Kenpachi's spare brains lived in Yachiru's head.
"Yup! If your Bankai's exposed, it's not scary anymore~"
She beamed.
Soi Fon flashed again, reappearing behind Shuuichi.
That kind of move couldn't fool his senses.
He started to spin and swat her when a monstrous slash, packed with crushing reiatsu, split the sky for him.
Yakuryū (Flow Choke). Bungetsugiri (Split-Moon Cut).
Frown creasing, he played it right—left hand throttling the slash to bleed its speed and power, right hand carving to cancel it.
Because this stroke—far stronger than before—dragged up a memory he'd almost lost:
Kenpachi is a mutant. A walking cheat. The truest "What doesn't kill me makes me stronger."
If Shuuichi kept feeding him reflection after reflection without finishing him—
He'd just become Kenpachi's grindstone.
He'd worked so hard to knock Kenpachi down a tier; why polish him back up?
So he decided—no more near-death "level-ups" for Kenpachi.
But there was one person he couldn't cover if he committed to that.
He saw the hand drift in again—the stinging fingers stopping short—Suzumebachi inches from that lonely Hōmonka.
Shuuichi smiled.
What a foolish bee.
He'd said it plainly—and still she couldn't strike.
Incurable.
"Shuuichi-sa—no!!"
Watching her fight herself, Shuuichi took a half step forward, letting the Hōmonka brush Suzumebachi.
Then he pressed his hilt to her flat chest and gave the line every Shinigami learns the hard way:
"Soi Fon—remember: battles between Shinigami are battles of reiatsu."
Hadō no 4: Byakurai (Pale Lightning). Yakuryū (Flow Choke).
He laced them together, angling away from lethals.
Blood sprayed. Body crumpled.
As darkness took her, he whispered, "Sleep. When you wake, it'll be over~"
"Bakudō no 37: Tsuriboshi (Suspending Star)!"
Before she hit, an old voice rang; a reishi hammock bloomed beneath.
Shuuichi looked down at the white shape swaying in the wind.
"You made it at last, Sixth Division captain—Ginrei."
At the same time, Kenpachi hauled himself out of the rubble, soaked in blood and joy.
As if he hadn't almost died to a cheap shot.
"Old man—he's my prey."
Kenpachi locked Shuuichi in his sights.
"Kenpachi, this isn't the time for your whims."
Ginrei—head of a Great House—gave him nothing.
"Tch—do what you want."
He didn't care. If a fight started, he'd just swing. One target mattered—cut down Shuuichi.
The ground lost his shadow. A sonic crack ripped the air—
Not Shunpō (Flash Step). Pure leg power.
One cut. Two.
Each heavier than the last.
On the ninety-first, Shuuichi's left arm went flying.
It knitted; the equal blow returned into Kenpachi's flesh.
No matter. The pain only fed him.
Each reflected stroke made him grin wider—and strike harder.
His stamina and will didn't sag under wounds; they rose against the tide.
One hundred. Two hundred. As Shuuichi's body began to flag from constant regeneration, a cold realization hit:
Hadn't he decided not to be Kenpachi's whetstone?
Why had he been trading meat all this time?
Where were his Kidō? His Shunpō?
He hadn't even leaned on his beloved Nadegiri—or his polished Bungetsugiri.
It all felt… natural. As if of course this was how he should fight.
Another cut. His arm fell—regrew.
Riding the clarity of the pain, he slashed a Bungetsugiri and flashed away, opening space.
And felt it—thin wind stroking his skin.
But he'd already gone Bankai. His Shikai wind shouldn't still be on him.
What was going on?
Right. He was here to draw captains, to weather them, to buy Rangiku time to open the Senkaimon.
He'd been fighting Kenpachi this long—other captains should've arrived. Why only Kenpachi?
Where was his shadow—little Yachiru?
Something was wrong.
Splat.
Another stroke. Kenpachi closed and cut him in half.
He couldn't even parry one blow?
Impossible.
So why had he thought he could just cross-block that last cut?
Every piece stank of wrongness.
He felt like he'd forgotten something crucial—and had no idea what it was.
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