Kamiyashiro Clan Estate
The corridor of the ancestral shrine was swallowed in deep, suffocating darkness. A lone figure walked through it at an unhurried pace, his footsteps nearly silent against the cold stone floor.
When he neared the main gate, two blades flashed through the darkness at the same time, crossing in front of him—cold steel pressing straight against his vital points.
"Family shrine. No entry."
The voice was mechanical, void of emotion, as if spoken by a machine rather than a living guard.
But the man offered no reply.
A sharp, crisp sound rang through the corridor—shing!—the clean note of a blade being drawn.
In the next heartbeat, death blossomed.
The two guardians collapsed before they even had the chance to understand what had happened, blood streaming in thin rivulets across the stone as the man stepped forward, boots painting crimson footprints behind him. He pushed open the doors of the shrine and walked inside.
At the center of the shrine, upon the offering stand, rested a Zanpakutō.
The man's lips curved upward. Satisfaction flickered there—along with unmistakable disdain.
"Fools. You will pay the price for your actions."
He lifted the blade.
"As the lowest seat among you, I will become the final guardian of the Kamiyashiro name."
A soft laugh escaped him, cold and amused.
"This world is getting more and more interesting…"
Kuchiki Clan Estate
Violet spiritual pressure rippled violently across the battlefield. Kuchiki Hibikawa rampaged through enemy ranks, slicing down foes with terrifying precision. None could withstand even a single clash—wherever he passed, bodies fell one after another.
Corpses were scattered across the courtyard, blood soaking the earth in thick crimson pools.
From a high vantage point, Kuchiki Ginmine watched with an expressionless face. His sharp eyes glimmered with faint thought as he surveyed the carnage below.
Amidst the tearing of flesh and the clashing of steel, a barely audible voice floated through the air:
"…Hibikawa."
Shihōin Clan Estate
The scene here was similar—bodies strewn everywhere—but the battle had ended far faster than at the other two sites.
After crashing through the final enemy like a runaway truck, the last fighter came to a halt.
Within the Omniguard Corps, a petite girl stood trembling, her gaze locked fiercely on Kisaragi Akira in the center of the courtyard.
She recognized him.
It was that bastard—the one who ambushed them in the Rukongai, kidnapped Lady Yoruichi in broad daylight, and made the entire Omniguard Corps take the blame for it afterward.
As for the fact that Lady Yoruichi had cooperated with him and staged the entire event herself… the girl subconsciously refused to acknowledge such a possibility.
In Fūgasaki Aya's heart, Lady Yoruichi was the most perfect being in existence—her ideal, her admiration, her everything.
Even if the whole world was wrong, Lady Yoruichi could not possibly be wrong!
Someone must have threatened her. That had to be it.
Yes. That was the only explanation!
Through repeated self-hypnosis, the girl's thoughts solidified into that conviction.
If the circumstances weren't wrong, she might have already drawn her blade. Anyone who threatened Lady Yoruichi shouldn't be allowed to exist in this world.
But just as Fūgasaki Aya was thinking this—
A tall, athletic silhouette leapt off a nearby rooftop and landed beside Kisaragi Akira. Without caring in the slightest about the blood splattered on him, the newcomer slapped Akira's shoulder with hearty enthusiasm and burst into booming laughter.
"Hahaha! Akira, that's exactly what I expect from you!"
"With this, the Kamiyashiro Clan is finished—even if they're not dead, they're crippled. We don't even need to take action. Those bone-gnawing vassal houses will devour whatever remains of them!"
The five great noble houses had been at odds for a long time. Even the Shiba Clan—who withdrew from power struggles—were frequently targeted. As for the Shihōin Clan, it was even worse.
The Kamiyashiro Clan was one of the major aggressors.
Seeing Akira and the newcomer getting along so familiarly, Fūgasaki Aya's entire body trembled. Her pupils dilated, and the light drained from her expression, her ideals crumbling all at once.
Soft, broken murmurs spilled from her lips:
"Impossible… Impossible…"
After confirming that all enemies had been eliminated, Kisaragi Akira glanced toward Yoruichi and said:
"I'll leave the cleanup to you."
"Kamiyashiro Anzai went to First Division to deal with Old Man Yamamoto. I'll go see if I can slice him a couple times before he dies."
Before Yoruichi could reply, Akira flickered away with shunpo, vanishing from the battlefield.
Yoruichi prepared to follow, but before she could move, a burly figure blocked her path. Nii no Susumu bowed his head so low it nearly touched the ground.
"Lady Yoruichi, please don't go cause trouble with that kid."
"The Omniguard Corps and the Shihōin retainers have already suffered heavy casualties…"
Yoruichi clicked her tongue, helpless.
"Fine, fine. Let's clean up first. Round up anyone still alive and throw them into the dungeon. I'll interrogate them myself later."
First Division
BOOM.
A figure shot out of the sky like a meteor, crashing into the ground with unstoppable force. The impact carved out a massive crater, blasting dust dozens of meters high.
The ground collapsed. Cracks spread like spiderwebs across the entire squad building and beyond.
Kamiyashiro Anzai clawed his way out of the crater. He looked utterly miserable—his luxurious noble garb had been shredded, countless bones had broken and reset, and blood soaked every inch of his body.
Yet strangely, he was not dead.
Worse—he was healing.
Rapidly.
Bone fragments reconnected. Tissue mended. Skin sealed.
With every regeneration, his spiritual pressure swelled.
From a mere Third-Rank Reiatsu…
To nearly First-Rank.
At this point, he rivaled many current captains.
Even Kisaragi Akira, reckless as he was, wouldn't dare tank him head-on.
However—
Despite all this, Anzai still trembled when he saw the silhouette walking through the dissipating smoke.
A devastating spiritual pressure—like the fall of heaven itself—blanketed the land for several kilometers. Waves of heat and force pulsed outward in crushing bursts.
Every step made the very air shudder.
Heat surged without limit, melting everything nearby. Even the ground wailed as it softened.
No squad members dared approach—not even at a distance. The residual heat alone could kill any ordinary Shinigami.
Yamamoto Genryūsai stood gripping Ryūjin Jakka, his expression calm, waiting silently for Anzai to reveal his next trick.
The aura surrounding him—this was the weight of the strongest Shinigami.
"You truly live up to your reputation, Captain-Commander Yamamoto."
Kamiyashiro Anzai forced down his growing terror and stretched his mouth into a twisted grin.
"As expected… this little power alone can't defeat a monster like you."
Yamamoto narrowed his eyes slightly.
Anzai reached to his torn collar and gripped the fabric. With one motion, he ripped apart the upper half of his clothing, revealing his blood-soaked torso.
Kisaragi Akira arrived just in time to see it. His eyes flew wide.
Embedded at the center of Anzai's chest…
was a black gemstone.
A faint brilliance pulsed within it—radiating an overwhelming, oppressive aura.
"Sss—"
Akira sucked in a cold breath.
"Is that… the Hōgyoku?!"
But he immediately shook his head.
No. Not the Hōgyoku.
Although it resembled one, the power it released was far greater… and frighteningly familiar.
He saw this kind of power every single day.
There was no mistaking it—
It was the power of the Soul King.
Yamamoto didn't give Anzai time to finish powering up. His blade swung—not fast, but with absolute finality.
A streak of blinding sword-light tore through the sky.
A moment later, an inferno of impossible heat descended, engulfing the crater entirely.
Taimatsu.
Flames surged like pillars of wrath, forming a monstrous whirlpool of fire that roared through the ruins with deafening fury.
The ground split. Buildings trembled.
A hellish landscape consumed everything.
Even distant divisions could see the firestorm raging over First Division headquarters.
Kisaragi Akira's expression shifted. He shunpoed away instantly, leaving behind several afterimages.
He was bold, but not stupid enough to get caught in Yamamoto's attack.
Just the sight of that heat—warping space itself—was enough to earn his respect.
This wasn't the gentle instructor he knew.
This was Yamamoto unleashed—pure killing intent, raw and unrestrained.
A heat so absolute it could erase entire worlds.
As the inferno drew in, the flames compressed, the air rippled, and wave after wave of destruction poured outward. The battlefield froze in place…
Then detonated.
Buildings shattered. Everything turned to ash.
Kisaragi Akira reappeared beside Yamamoto, grinning brightly.
"Magnificent! Absolutely magnificent, sir!"
The wave of heat hit him like a punch, making him grimace, but he quickly adapted.
"As expected of the Captain-Commander! One strike to vanquish the traitor Kamiyashiro Anz—"
Before he could finish, Yamamoto clicked his tongue and kicked him.
WHAM.
A blast of crimson force swallowed Akira whole.
The flames curled protectively around Yamamoto, shielding him from the blowback.
Akira dragged himself out of the rubble, relieved.
"Still got that dignified aura. Good, good."
A shadow emerged from the smoke—Kamiyashiro Anzai, transformed beyond recognition.
White bone extruded from every pore, forming armor around his body.
He no longer resembled a Shinigami.
More like a humanoid Hollow, twisted by the Soul King's power and illegal Gikon techniques.
Yamamoto's frown deepened. He had sensed the anomaly earlier, but now it was laid bare—this power came with a terrible price.
Quick power was never free.
Pitiful. Pathetic.
He would end this suffering swiftly.
As Yamamoto raised Ryūjin Jakka to unleash another Taimatsu—
—someone moved faster.
Kisaragi Akira flashed through the air, landing squarely in front of Anzai, brimming with confidence.
"Lord Anzai! Allow me to send you off!"
Anzai stared down at him, blood-red eyes flickering with confusion.
"You… betray me?"
Akira grinned.
"I didn't have a choice before. But now, I feel like being a good guy."
Even Anzai, blinded by ambition, understood instantly—Akira had deceived him from the start. His joining the Kamiyashiro faction had never been sincere.
"To think you used Gikon technology to fool me… the most foolish move possible."
Anzai extended a claw-like hand. The air itself tore.
"I have completely fused with the Soul King's power! I am invincible!"
"You don't understand! The Soul King's power—higher than anything, enough to create worlds, to erase everything!"
His roar shook the ruins.
"You're all blind! Pathetic—miserable—IGNORANT!"
Before the echo faded, he exploded forward with terrifying speed, claws slashing toward Akira.
CLANG!
Steel clashed, sparks flying.
The spiritual-pressure gap was immense—Akira's physical advantage was completely negated. A tidal wave of force blasted him away.
He streaked across the sky like a meteor and crashed into the rubble.
"This is the difference between us."
Anzai sneered, regaining lost confidence after his embarrassment against Yamamoto.
No—his failure wasn't because he was weak.
It was because Yamamoto was too strong.
If he fought anyone else… he'd win effortlessly.
He turned toward Yamamoto—
—and froze.
His spiritual pressure was collapsing.
Draining away like retreating tidewater.
"My… power…?"
His eyes snapped toward Akira, who had already shunpoed back.
"You—?!"
"That's right! It was me!"
Akira proudly jabbed a thumb at himself.
"You couldn't even detect the flaw I inserted into your Gikon technique! Your intelligence isn't even half of mine!"
Yamamoto went silent at that.
…Wasn't that a little too harsh?
Sure, Anzai lost his judgment chasing power, but still—
"Kisaragi Akira— I'LL KILL YOU!!"
Anzai burned what remained of his power, launching himself forward for one last strike.
Akira's eyes sparkled.
Battle-lust ignited in his chest.
He laughed wildly.
"Come at me then!!"
"This is how real Shinigami should fight!"
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