The Joy of the Wind Man
Steel Flash was Yasuo's Q. A straightforward thrust—no frills, no wasted motion.
Upon striking, Steel Flash granted a stack of Whirlwind Slash, lingering for six seconds. With two stacks, the thrust transformed into a gale, summoning a whirlwind that could launch enemies skyward.
Seated, Shiraishi released Steel Flash.
To Soifon, it was flawless.
As Commander-in-Chief of the Onmitsukidō and Captain of the Second Division, her confidence in speed and evasion was unmatched. No attack could catch her—at least, that was what she believed.
She shifted left, then right, her Zanpakutō's tip following her movement.
Impossible.
Her pupils widened. Sitting like that, his stance should have been clumsy, unable to generate force, much less agility. Unless—unless this was no ordinary thrust. Unless the opponent was a master swordsman, capable of turning simplicity into inevitability.
Unwilling to accept it, Soifon flashed behind him, blade aimed with perfect precision.
Yet even as she executed shunpō, doubt gnawed at her. How could such an awkward gesture rival her Flash Step?
The reality before her deepened her unease. The Central 46's decision to send her hadn't been overkill—it had been wise. This man's swordplay, combined with agility and killing intent, was unlike any enemy she had faced.
Her Zanpakutō drew in a breath of her reiatsu as she called its name.
"Sting all enemies to death—Suzumebachi!"
A white glow flashed. The katana vanished, reshaped into a black-and-gold gauntlet with a stinger blade attached to her finger, a golden chain linking it to her arm.
Shiraishi's expression grew solemn. If anyone knew the strengths and weaknesses of Soul Society's captains, it was him.
Suzumebachi's ability was absolute: two strikes on the same point, and death followed. Even the greatest of defenses—short of Aizen's monstrous reiatsu—would fall before it.
Fortunately, Shiraishi's Zanpakutō was just as troublesome. Its ability ensured that any foe within his range could not evade. No matter how fast the shunpō, no matter the trick of space or step, Steel Flash could not be avoided—it could only be blocked or endured.
And unlike typical thrusts, Steel Flash was unhindered by stance. Sitting, crouching, even lying down—its precision remained. Perfect for ambush.
Soifon darted forward again. Shiraishi, calm and decisive, activated his E, the dash that chained his strikes together.
His Steel Flash shifted from a thrust to a circular sweep, golden aura trailing in the air.
The hairs on Soifon's neck rose. Her instincts screamed danger. Reiatsu compressed around her small frame, tightening like a vice.
She reacted instantly, flowing into a soft, evasive movement—like a willow bending in the wind—deflecting most of the force. Even so, the blade grazed her back, blood staining her uniform.
Shiraishi pressed forward. Two Steel Flashes—two stacks.
He swung.
A golden whirlwind erupted, tearing apart the teahouse, uprooting flowers and scattering debris in a storm that roared toward her.
Soifon twisted her body midair, reiatsu surging into a kick that could shatter stone. But her power dispersed uselessly, swallowed by the gale.
What…?
Her eyes narrowed. This wasn't just swordsmanship. It was Zanpakutō power—wind that hollowed out her reiatsu, piercing through defenses as though nothing existed.
She had no time to ponder. Three strikes cut through the storm: an upward slash, a horizontal sweep, and a vertical chop. Each one lethal.
Her training saved her. Her body moved before thought, dodging—but not perfectly. Blood sprayed as a shallow cut marked her face, crimson streaming down from her forehead.
Breathing hard, she steadied herself, rage simmering beneath her composure.
"Don't think you can just cut and run!" she shouted.
Her hand traced a circle on the ground, Kidō flaring.
"Bakudō #58: Kakushitsuijaku!"
Lines of black ink formed, connecting into a tracking circle. Normally, it would pinpoint her target's reiatsu across great distances.
But nothing.
Her eyes narrowed, fury boiling. "He suppressed his reiatsu…"
A masked Onmitsukidō soldier appeared, kneeling. "Captain, are you injured?"
"It's nothing." She wiped the blood from her face. "Draw his likeness. Issue a wanted order to the Stealth Force. Report the moment you find him."
Her face hardened like steel.
Even if she had to chase him to the farthest edge of Rukongai—she would catch Shiraishi.