The blade flashed in an arc behind him, the cold edge tearing through the air.
He didn't even think—his body moved on pure instinct.
His Zanpakutō, wrapped in Reiatsu, cut toward the presence at point-blank range.
—Slash!
Seeing this indescribable scene, Shutara Senjumaru narrowed her eyes slightly, the corners of her lips curving in approval.
He'd been fooled by the illusion for a brief instant—but that technique was enough to trick even captains. A seated-officer level Shinigami normally wouldn't stand a chance of seeing through it.
And the moment she called out to him, Naraku had reflexively made the best possible response.
His dense, surging Reiatsu wrapped around him like blood. His Zanpakutō flashed coldly as he swung it forward again, piercing through the illusion once more.
This seemed to be one of Shutara Senjumaru's Zanpakutō abilities: weaving illusions.
But from beginning to end, he hadn't seen her draw a Zanpakutō at all. Not even that golden skeletal arm had appeared.
Her pale hands were bare, not moving at all.
She walked as if strolling through a garden, relaxed and at ease.
The gap between them was… frankly absurd.
Even so, Naraku didn't give up. This was a fight to test his limits.
Winning or losing didn't matter.
Without hesitation, the moment the illusion shattered, Naraku tightened his grip on the hilt, stomped down hard, and launched forward like an arrow loosed from the string.
If he couldn't tell what was real and what wasn't, then he'd just cut down everything that appeared in his field of vision.
His Zanpakutō howled as it swung out.
The air groaned under the strain, like cloth being violently torn apart, splitting to either side.
With his Reiatsu stacked behind it, this strike carried a level of destructive force he'd never reached before.
Even compared to himself before suppressing the intruder, Naraku was confident he could now cut that man in half with a single blow.
"What a crude sword stroke."
Shutara shook her head. "There's no elegance to it at all. It's like a beast let out of its cage—though it's not entirely without merit."
"At the very least, the killing power is impressive."
As she spoke, a massive wave of Reiatsu welled up from her palm, condensing into the outline of a blade. It extended forward, meeting Naraku's Zanpakutō head-on.
Blade light collided. Steel rang out.
Shutara Senjumaru's style of combat was nothing like a typical Shinigami's. It was more like a pure embodiment of art.
Every little motion radiated absolute grace.
"Honestly, I'm not that good at swordsmanship," she said. "But I do have a friend who's very skilled in that area. If you're interested, dummy…"
Zanpakutō and reishi blade clashed again and again, bursting into brilliant showers of sparks.
Naraku suddenly swept his blade sideways, drawing out the full crimson hue glowing along its edge—the savagery unique to Hollows erupting in that instant.
His already-violent strength ramped up another level.
Watching closely, Shutara couldn't help the heat that crept into her gaze.
There really was a Shinigami in this world who could perfectly control hollowfication.
From the data alone, even a captain-level Shinigami would have a hard time spotting Naraku's secret.
At most, they'd assume he was a Shinigami with unusually feral Reiatsu.
If she hadn't witnessed the whole process herself, she might've been fooled too.
You could only call it fate.
Shutara's smile grew wider, and her attacks more merciless.
Just like she'd said before:
If people don't have any common language, how can they become friends?
Obviously, Shutara Senjumaru was pretty black-bellied in her own way.
Her vast Reiatsu climbed higher and higher. The air in the lab grew thick, even breathing became heavy.
Naraku stared wide-eyed at that beautiful face. The smile was still there, but something about it felt distant.
In those sharp black-and-white eyes there flashed a kind of sorrowful compassion, like a true god looking down on all living things.
Shutara let out a soft sigh and raised her hand. A crystalline radiance coated it, turning it into something like a finely carved work of art.
In that instant, alarm bells screamed in Naraku's mind. A crushing sense of danger filled his consciousness, forcing the most primal reaction out of him.
His Reiatsu exploded all at once. His Zanpakutō trembled violently as an oppressive heaviness spread through him,
like a giant boulder being dropped onto his soul.
Shutara's eyes lit up, as if a spark had flashed within them—like she'd spotted a new continent.
She more or less understood the reason behind Naraku's "perfect hollowfication" now.
But the fight didn't end there. Her left hand, smooth as a piece of jade, closed its five fingers together and pushed forward.
The motion was gentle—more like a lover's caress than an attack.
It simply met that terrifying, blood-red Reiatsu head-on.
The next second, the sound of shattering rang out nonstop.
In an instant, Naraku's offensive collapsed. His whole body was blasted backward and slammed into the wall with a roaring crash.
"What… the hell was that?!"
Naraku lay on the floor without a shred of dignity, his whole body aching to the core. It felt like he'd been run over by fate itself.
"Want to learn it?"
Shutara walked over and looked down at him, smiling gently.
No one seeing her now—bright as the sun—would believe she was the same person who had just taken a Zanpakutō slash head-on and casually shattered Naraku's Reiatsu with one palm.
The contrast was way too much.
Naraku struggled to his feet. "Learn? Why wouldn't I?"
"Just so we're clear, this doesn't count toward the payment you promised earlier."
Shutara nodded, completely unfazed by his attempt to haggle.
"As for why you can perfectly handle hollowfied power—I've more or less figured that out."
"What?" Naraku leaned forward, curious.
He was very much in the "I know it works, but I don't know why it works" camp. As long as it was usable, strong, and convenient, he didn't care much about the principle behind it.
Shutara's expression turned serious, her smile fading a little.
"Weight— the weight of your soul."
Naraku's face grew solemn, a thoughtful look flashing through his eyes.
Yet another term he'd never heard before.
As expected, tagging along with this crazy woman was actually educational.
But Shutara had no intention of explaining further. "Even if I did, you wouldn't understand it yet. Just knowing the concept is enough for now."
"Oh right—have you achieved Shikai with your Zanpakutō?"
"Or rather, do you know its true name?"
Naraku froze for a moment and glanced down at the sword in his hand, then shook his head.
Like any normal Shinigami, he didn't have any natural advantage in that area.
With only the sword-meditation techniques taught at the academy, there was no way he could communicate with his Zanpakutō in such a short time, let alone learn its true name and unlock Shikai.
"Then you're very lucky," Shutara said, narrowing her eyes in a smile, like a kind, understanding big sister. "I've recently developed a technique that can help Shinigami quickly attain Shikai."
"Well? Want to give it a try?"
For some reason, Naraku could clearly see a hint of mischief—maybe even malice—behind that perfect smile…