What if a Zanpakutō is Attacked by a Bull?
In that life-or-death moment, Tsunayashiro Munemasa's face showed no fear. His calm expression revealed hidden strength.
Shiraishi realized this too late, as a figure appeared in the air.
The newcomer seized Munemasa by the shoulder and pulled him back. With a wave of his hand, countless cherry blossom petals filled the sky and ground, cutting off all escape routes.
Shiraishi didn't dodge. His golden blade cleaved straight through the petal storm, scattering it with a booming strike. The masked figure reeled back in shock.
"You actually broke through Senbonzakura?"
He knew this zanpakutō—it belonged to Kuchiki Byakuya, the Captain of the Sixth Division. Those delicate petals were, in truth, thousands of tiny blades, their pink glow nothing more than sunlight reflecting off steel.
Yet the man before him wore a crimson demon mask, a golden cherry blossom headdress, and a purple kimono bound with a bow. It was Senbonzakura itself, incarnated.
"Could this be… Muramasa?" Shiraishi thought. But no—Muramasa belonged to Kuchiki Kōga in the anime filler. Something didn't add up.
Munemasa laughed, pleased by his astonishment.
"During my centuries in Muken, I cultivated my bond with Kitsune. Everyone thought my Bankai simply nullified zanpakutō. But Kitsune's true power is hypnosis—severing the bond between a zanpakutō and its master."
His smirk widened.
"In its second form, Kitsune can fully dominate other zanpakutō, even manifesting them into the world as my weapons. Thanks to Oda Nobunaga's sacrifice breaking Muken's seal, I proved it. Everything in this world exists for me."
He raised his chin proudly.
"A noble bloodline. A Bankai that rules over all zanpakutō. Even Heaven favors me. That is the difference between us."
Shiraishi frowned. Something was wrong. He looked down—the golden glow of his blade shifted to white, shadows stretching across the ground.
He swung upward—
BOOM!
The ground cracked beneath him as an immense pressure crashed down. And then he saw her.
A female figure with long brown hair tied in a flowing ponytail, features sharp yet delicate, eyes burning like phoenix fire. A pink scar ran across her nose. She wore a dark-blue cape, chest bound in bandages, her waist tied with a red shimenawa rope over blue hakama. Armor flared from one shoulder.
It was Infinite, his own zanpakutō spirit—manifested.
Munemasa sneered. "How ironic. Did you ever imagine your own zanpakutō would be the one to kill you?"
"Try it, then," Shiraishi replied coldly.
Their first clash proved the truth: Infinite's spiritual pressure matched his own exactly. Worse, her strikes doubled with critical force. A direct contest would be suicide.
He darted past her, aiming a forward slash to break through—but Senbonzakura's blades surged into a wall of steel, hemming him in.
"Hadō #63: Raikōhō!"
Golden lightning burst forth, tearing through the barrier and forcing Munemasa and Senbonzakura into view. Shiraishi slipped into the gap and swung—only for Senbonzakura to forge a cherry-colored blade and intercept him.
Steel clashed with a ringing bang, numbing Shiraishi's arm. His senses screamed—Infinite was already behind him, blade descending.
"Tch…" Shiraishi disengaged, circling wide with a flash step instead of taking the blow.
In the next heartbeat, he reappeared beside Shiba Kūkaku miles away. "This is getting messy. Maybe it's time for a tactical move?"
Kūkaku, standing atop a hill, raised a brow. "And what's that supposed to mean?"
"Run," Shiraishi said bluntly.
"…" She stared at the shredded hill, silently weighing the logic. Her pride resisted, but she wasn't stupid. Staying here was suicide.
Before she could move, Munemasa raised his hand.
"Bakudō #61: Rikujōkōrō."
Golden beams of light slammed into Kūkaku's waist, locking her in place. She fell from the hilltop as countless blades coiled upward, ready to strike.
Shiraishi dashed in, shattering the light bars with one hand and cleaving apart the encroaching petals with the other. But in doing so, his back was exposed.
Infinite appeared instantly, her sword poised to cut him down.
"Hadō #4: Byakurai!"
Kūkaku grabbed his shoulder, yanking him back as white lightning erupted from her fingertips. The blade storm split the bolt apart, crashing inward from three sides.
At the last second, Shiraishi stomped against the cliff wall, grabbed Kūkaku by the collar, and hurled her upward—just as the blades consumed him.
"Shiraishi!" she cried, helpless as his figure vanished into the storm.
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