"Minazuki, enough—zip it!"
Hana-nee's face went as red as an apple. She lunged to cover Minazuki's mouth.
Minazuki ducked away with a mischievous giggle, slipped behind Cole, and pulled a silly face over his shoulder. "Master, why so mad? Aren't you happy too?"
Hana-nee felt faint. For someone so composed, how did her manifested zanpakuto act like a cheeky kid?
Cole felt the warm press at his back; his heartbeat kicked up despite himself. He chuckled. "Minazuki, why are you this cute?"
"Maybe you don't know," Minazuki said, hugging his neck with a sunny smile. "A zanpakuto's temperament reflects its Shinigami. I'm this lively because Master used to be lively and cute too..."
"Minazuki!" Hana-nee pounced, flustered, hugging her zanpakuto tight. "Another word and I send you back into the blade. I was never this unruly."
Minazuki squirmed, still smiling. "Coming from the one-and-only great 'villain,' that's not very convincing."
Back then, Hana-nee hadn't just been unruly—she'd been downright lawless, doing whatever she pleased, answerable to none. That's how she earned a legend's infamy.
Watching the two of them tussle, Cole rubbed his nose.
Uh-oh. Nosebleed incoming. The view was... a lot.
"No looking!" Rukia darted behind him, palms over his eyes to block his peek. Sode no Shirayuki puffed her cheeks; seeing that soft, voluptuous figure only stoked her ire. She shot Rukia a frosty side-eye. "Master, couldn't you at least try to be... fuller?"
A zanpakuto is the Shinigami's will. If her own figure was this austere, then clearly Rukia's was... austere.
Rukia's teeth squeaked. "How is this my fault? And I haven't even brought up you and Cole yet."
"Hmph," said Sode no Shirayuki, a little smug now. "That's because you're too stiff. But don't be discouraged—we are one, after all."
Rukia flushed hotter. She had zero interest in "sharing." Cole was hers—full stop.
The little scene done, they hurried for the execution grounds.
On the way, Cole drifted to the rear and whispered, "Minazuki, you're on my side, right?"
"Of course," she beamed. "Tonight I'll hold Master down for you so you can really—"
"Ahem! Not that." Cole shook his head hard. "I mean, will you help me stop Hana-nee's... self-destructive dueling habits?"
It seemed like every Shinigami carried some mental quirk. The Head Captain's stubbornness—he'd rather lose an arm than let a human like Orihime treat him. Soi Fong's fixation—already yandere-adjacent. Shunsui's feigned carelessness. And Mayuri... well, he needed no example.
Even among them, Hana-nee's obsession with battle was the worst—beyond Zaraki's. At least Zaraki didn't dream of dying for a fight.
"My master, huh..." Minazuki laced her arms around Cole's neck again. "Of course I want her to live."
Shinigami have their issues. But zanpakuto, as partners, are the last to wish harm on their wielders. Zangetsu (Tensa Zangetsu) was willing to vanish so Ichigo could unleash his final Getsuga Tenshō. And Muramasa now—he nearly turned Soul Society upside-down to save his master.
In normal cases, a Shinigami might resent their blade—but a zanpakuto hating its master? Almost unheard of.
Cole exhaled. "So what should I do to stop Hana-nee from chasing death?"
"Well..." Minazuki breathed warm against his ear, voice smiling. "As long as you don't become Kenpachi, Master won't have the urge to 'finish it' anymore."
"And Zaraki...?" Cole still pictured that brutal duel between Hana-nee and Zaraki.
Minazuki gently nipped his ear, teasing. "Cole-dono, you don't think Master's still hung up on Zaraki, do you? After you defeated her with pure sword, she lost interest."
Cole relaxed—then reddened. "Minazuki—ticklish. Don't breathe in my ear."
"Then you should spar with me in bed sometime," she murmured. "Watching Master so happy, I want to try too."
Cole's heart did a backflip. Right—tonight he'd... ahem... have a serious talk with Minazuki.
Hana-nee glanced back, eyes narrowing. "Cole-kun. Minazuki. What are you whispering about?"
"We're discussing how to take down Muramasa," he said, deadly solemn.
"Sure you are..." Hana-nee shot him a pink-cheeked glare. Who knew how much "blackmail material" this kid had overheard by now.
Minazuki's lips curved. "Master, we were planning how many times to 'make you drink water' tonight."
"Minazuki!"
Hana-nee lunged again; maybe putting her blade back would be best. Minazuki danced ahead, and as she passed Cole, she whispered, "Call Master 'mama' a few more times. She acts shy, but she loves it."
She skipped off, laughing, steps blurring with hoho.
Soon, the five reached the execution grounds.
What had been solemn was now ruin. Rubble everywhere; traces of battle gouged into stone. Even the Sōkyoku's pillory—said to endure the strike of a million zanpakuto—was scored with countless cuts. Across from it, a phoenix of living fire spread burning wings: Jōkaishō (Purification King). Its pressure nearly matched Shunsui's.
More striking, though, were the fights themselves—gods brawling. Snow fell from a noon-bright sky while glaciers rose from the earth. Inside the ice you could make out Shinigami faces frozen in terror mid-flight—as if panic hadn't saved them from the cold's bite.
"Don't let a single flake land on you!" Toshiro shouted from below, fury tight in his eyes. "That's Hyōten Hyakkasō (Frozen Heaven Hundred Flower Funeral). One touch and you're done!"
Even as he called out, more ice peaks burst upward.
Shinigami began guarding against the snow—only to forget the rain of petals. Senbonzakura's lovely pink drift turned into razors, and many fell with long, shallow cuts. Suzumebachi, Kokujō Tengen Myō'ō (Great Black Rope Heavenly Punishment King), and Benihime (Crimson Princess) were no joke either. Even fighting their own wielders, the manifested blades pressed the advantage.
Soi Fong and Suzumebachi wove at impossible speed—two queen wasps trading stings, the twin marks of Jakushō (Hornet's Mark) crawling black across both bodies.
Kokujō Tengen Myō'ō and Benihime fought on a scale that split the battlefield. One swing from the black-armored god carved a canyon; Sajin's Tengen answered in kind. And Benihime—most outrageous of all—patched reality like a surgeon, warping bodies. Some Shinigami found legs where arms should be; others had buckets swapped in for torsos and could only roll to move; a few shared one lower body with two upper halves. In the blink of an eye, they were... reconfigured—and the screams rose sharp and raw.
"Did Trafalgar Law from One Piece get isekai'd?" Cole muttered.
Kisuke, sweating bullets, fended off Benihime's edits while calling to the afflicted, "Everyone, stay calm—don't despair! I'll restore you later."
The looks he got could have killed. What kind of cursed blade was this?
Mayuri cackled nearby. "Kisuke, admit it—you're beneath me. If it were my zanpakuto, it wouldn't disobey."
He summoned his Bankai—Kinshara Ashisogi Jizō. A grotesque living weapon: a giant gold infant head, pale orb eyes, a hollow steel halo; below, rows of blades and centipede legs. Nightmare fuel. And yet it sat, oddly obedient—like a trained hound.
Even now, Kisuke couldn't resist: "Mayuri, your level is too low. A zanpakuto is a partner. You've modified yours until it has no wisdom left."
Veins popped on Mayuri's forehead. "I am not an idiot like you. Zanpakuto are tools, not partners. I don't need it to think—only to obey."
Kisuke sighed. "With that mindset, you'll never build anything that truly helps people..."
"I'm the head of the R&D Bureau now. That proves I've surpassed you."
"Heh. If that makes you happy, fine. Skill's something you yourself should know."
"Kisuke! It's been over a century. You think you still outclass me?"
"I just said—if you're happy—"
"No! We settle this today. Behold my magnum opus—"
"Heh. Mayuri, ever heard of the Hōgyoku?"
"...Kisuke!"
Cole clicked his tongue and looked away. "Those two will feud forever. And somehow Kisuke always has him on a leash. Kinda pitiful to watch."
He scanned the field, then frowned. "Rukia, Shirayuki, Hana-nee, Minazuki—doesn't something feel off?"
"What's off?" Rukia asked.
Cole pointed at the Shinigami getting carved up by their own blades. "They're getting the life beaten out of them—and they still look so... casual."
Rukia blinked. "Isn't it always like this?"
Hana-nee understood and explained gently, "Our lifespans aren't human. Even a weak Shinigami might live three to five centuries. We're used to life and death."
Cole nodded. That explained the constant "it's fine" energy in anime. Even when Aizen betrayed the Court, few captains panicked. Even in Karakura, when Aizen seemed unbeatable, most stayed... weirdly calm. It wasn't apathy—it was age.
(End of Chapter)
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