"...It's over."
Cold sweat beaded on Shunsui's forehead.
"Over?" Senjumaru tilted her head, puzzled.
"I'm finished..." Shunsui swallowed hard, face full of dread, and started edging away.
"Where are you going?" Senjumaru called after him. She'd just come down from the Royal Palace to Seireitei and hoped to tidy things up quickly.
Shunsui almost burst into tears. "I need to beg Rukia and Orihime-san to hold Cole back when he comes to hit me."
That scream Cole let out just now—
—it sounded like the overture to Shunsui's own funeral.
Senjumaru couldn't help herself. "You're exaggerating. He's sixteen. There's no way he's on your level."
A Shinigami's power grows slowly—only with great talent, day-in, day-out training, and brushes with death. Most never manage it; not everyone has that resolve.
Shunsui, a genius even centuries ago, had fought countless life-and-death battles against terrifying foes.
A sixteen-year-old kid? Even if he'd trained since the womb, there's no way he could beat Shunsui.
Jushiro gave a wry smile. "Senjumaru, Cole's combat strength really is that high. He's no weaker than me or Shunsui. If he steps in, this zanpakuto rebellion would probably be over already."
Senjumaru blinked. Coming from honest Jushiro, that was no boast. Her surprise shifted into interest; she smiled lightly.
"A sixteen-year-old with power like that? Now you've piqued me. I must meet him."
She turned to Jushiro. "Lead the way. I'll finish off the remaining manifested zanpakuto."
Jushiro hesitated. "Shouldn't we plan a bit more?"
In raw battle power, his Sōgyo no Kotowari and Shunsui's Katen Kyokotsu shouldn't be weaker than Unohana.
Senjumaru's smile brimmed with confidence. "Relax. I came prepared. I won't repeat my mistakes."
—
Shihōin manor.
Cole stared at the two blood-streaked figures before him, the corner of his mouth twitching. Inwardly, he cursed Shunsui's ancestors all the way down the line.
Great. He'd basically thrown two living bombs at him—and set them to explode on impact.
"Cole-kun, y-your swordsmanship has grown even stronger..." One blood-red silhouette, zanpakuto in hand, panted lightly and gazed at him with fervor.
The other pressed a hand to her heaving chest and looked at him just as intensely. "Cole-kun, let's have a proper battle. I'll stay right by you and keep you patched up..."
Cole's mouth twitched. "Hana-nee, Minazuki—fine, I'll spar. But can you please wash up first?"
Both figures were soaked in blood; you couldn't even tell who was who by sight. And both—the woman and the manifested blade—had striking, full figures; even that didn't help tell them apart. With their fighting mania blazing, neither was in any mood to listen.
They stepped forward, blades poised to strike.
"Wait!"
Cole raised his voice. "Hana-nee, Minazuki—if you don't go wash up properly, I'm leaving. Now."
The two blood-hued silhouettes froze.
A black afterimage flickered in front of their eyes—near-teleport bursts, shadow after shadow, like a night ghost darting through darkness.
Faster than they were.
Unohana and Minazuki both widened their eyes, annoyed. "Cole-kun, that's mean—don't tease us like that. We always listen when it matters."
"Right! You push hard whenever we spar and I endure it. How can you bully us like this?"
Cole's face darkened. "Which of us is really going too far?"
"On a normal day, one of you already pushes me to the brink—every match ends with me drenched in blood. Now you've got splits and doubles. That means double the injuries. If you won't behave, I'm walking."
The pair faltered, guilty.
After all, Bankai—Minazuki—creates an absolute dueling domain: regardless of who's stronger, both sides must fight and be wounded; if not, the healing itself becomes lethal. Every time Cole fought Unohana inside it, blood flew.
"Sorry, Cole-kun," Unohana said softly. "It's my fault. I'll wash first. After that, we can spar, all right?"
"Cole-kun, me too," Minazuki chimed in. "After the fight, I'll apologize together with my master..."
So we're still fighting, huh... Cole grumbled inwardly, then huffed and, with mock pride, said, "Fine. I'll escort you to the baths."
—
An isolated space. Steam rose over a hot spring.
Two fair, graceful silhouettes scooped water with wooden buckets and poured it over themselves, streams running down into the spring.
Lounging against the stone edge, Cole enjoyed the view—properly restrained this time—and let himself relax. "Hana-nee, grapes."
Unohana waded over, smiling, and popped a grape into his mouth. "We're about finished, Cole-kun..."
"Not yet," he said around the grape, stretching. "Minazuki, a shoulder rub, please. I'll fight better once I'm loosened up."
Minazuki—curvier even than Unohana—stepped behind him and gently kneaded his shoulders. "Cole-kun, you've been soaking for two hours."
"Then let's make it four," Cole murmured, eyes half-closed like a spoiled king. "Hana-nee, next time peel the grapes for me."
Unohana's smile softened; she deftly peeled one and placed it on his lips. "Like this?"
A pleased sound nearly escaped him. This—this was the life. No more getting dragged off every other day to trade cuts for hours until pain felt normal. He'd finally found Unohana's weakness: if she craved battle, he'd make her wait for it.
"See?" Cole chuckled. "Now you know the cost of being unreasonable with me. Better apologize properly."
Unohana crouched with a good-natured smile, resting a hand on his knee. "I understand, Cole-dono. Forgive me. After this, let's have a proper duel—do make it satisfying."
Cole laughed again, thinking he'd finally gotten the upper hand. Maybe—just maybe—this yandere big sister could be coaxed into a gentle big sister.
From behind, Minazuki leaned closer, arms circling his chest, whispering by his ear, "Cole-dono, you're not planning to stall forever to avoid fighting... are you?"
A chill ran down his back. Dream over; reality calling.
"H-how could I?" he coughed. "Of course I want a match. My swordsmanship's improved a lot."
Unohana's smile sharpened a fraction. "Good. For a second I worried you'd refuse—then I was considering... disciplining that 'little troublemaker' of yours."
Cole went rigid, the bravado draining out of him.
Too scary. Please don't threaten my future happiness.
Reading his mind, Unohana kept her tone breezy. "It's fine. As long as I can fight, I'm happy. If losing a distraction helps you grow stronger... who knows?"
He swallowed. Right—this was the woman who would risk everything for a perfect duel.
"Cole-dono," she said, settling against his chest, "we've indulged you for two hours. Isn't it time you indulge us?"
Minazuki's eyes curved. "Next is a pure contest of swordsmanship. If you haven't grown stronger, my master—who is a bit upset—might... do something unkind to that 'important part.'"
Cole's heart sank. He glanced for escape routes—none. Unohana in front, Minazuki behind, holding him fast.
"Even with hoho (flash step)," Unohana teased, "you can't slip away from this close."
Minazuki drew her blade. "We've let you relax for long enough, Cole-dono. Now, please—satisfy us."
Blood-red reiryoku seeped out, spreading like a night curtain to the horizon.
"Bankai."
"Minazuki (All Things End)."
The world turned scarlet, like a vast blood-pool. The metallic tang flooded the air.
The two women rose from the water, pale skin and steel in stark contrast—beautiful, yes, but their eyes were fever-bright, almost unhealthy in their zeal.
Desire, forced down moments ago, surged back—hotter than before.
Cole raked a hand through his hair and groaned at the sky. "I was going to raise my spiritual pressure!"
He'd absorbed so much reiryoku and planned a big push to elevate his total output. Looks like swordsmanship would have to come first—to subdue these two battle-drunk beauties.
He ground his teeth and glared at Unohana and Minazuki. "Hana-nee, Minazuki—listen up. If I beat you with swordsmanship alone, how are you going to make it up to me?"
Their hearts thumped faster; color rose in their faces.
"To surpass our sword..." Unohana breathed. "That would be the eleventh dan..."
"Show us," Minazuki said, racing in from the left. "If you defeat us with the blade, I'll listen to you—outside of our duels."
Unohana dashed straight on, both hands gripping her blood-hued edge. "Cole-kun, let me witness it—supreme sword mastery!"
A golden staff appeared in Cole's hands, its point gleaming like a peerless spear. "You said it. Don't regret it later."
With a thought, he converted the reiryoku he'd just absorbed into pure attribute points—then poured them crazily into his swordsmanship.
The golden staff in his hands seemed to become an indomitable golden awl.
—
Seireitei, the true execution grounds.
Here, countless manifested zanpakuto stood scattered across the yard, cold eyes fixed on the Shinigami encircling them.
Shunsui stared up grimly at the blazing giant phoenix unfurling wings of fire in the sky. "They've released Jōkaishō (Purification King). Are the manifested zanpakuto trying to force control over that artifact!?"
Jushiro coughed twice. "Didn't expect their goal to be Jōkaishō. If it fully manifests, we're in real trouble."
The other captains' faces tightened.
Sōkyoku—the double execution pike used to execute sinners in Soul Society.
Its power slices and pierces a Shinigami's body, then multiplies many times over in an instant; if it misses once, the next strike grows even stronger—without limit—until it reaches the might of a million zanpakuto.
Shunsui pressed a hand to his straw hat. "We can't wait for Jōkaishō to fully awaken. We seal it first."
Toshiro drew Hyorinmaru, eyes narrowed at the opposing line of zanpakuto. "That's... easier said than done."
Across the yard, the manifested blades with Bankai outnumbered the captains.
As both sides squared off—
Senjumaru lifted a pale finger toward Suzumushi's silhouette and smiled. "You carry a Hollow scent, don't you?"
"Byakurai (White Lightning)!"
A dazzling bolt tore across the sky like a white shooting star.
(End of Chapter)
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