"Useless. All of you are useless!"
In Seireitei's Noble District, inside an ancient estate as large as a small city, several figures had gathered in a study. One of them paced and cursed, unable to sit still.
They all looked different, but they shared one thing in common: age. Every face was old—and every face carried a certain authority that ordinary people never had.
It was the air of those who'd sat in high seats for a very long time.
But that aura had started to crumble the moment they opened their mouths and lost their composure.
"Didn't Ishikawa Sāsuke brag about a one-hundred-percent success rate? Said that as long as preparations were sufficient he could even assassinate a captain."
"And in the end he couldn't even take out some jailer from the prison. Was he joking when he said all that?"
"The real problem isn't that. It's whether that brat, as the one involved, knows anything about the connection between the Araki family and us."
"How would he? He's just some kid who graduated from the Academy a few days ago. He probably doesn't even know how many branches Seireitei has, let alone sniff out something this secret."
"Forget him— even the clan head couldn't know that much."
At that, the tension in the room visibly eased.
A failed assassination was a small issue. At worst, they'd lost Ishikawa Sāsuke. They could always recruit or train another in time.
But if their scheme were exposed, that would be catastrophic.
No matter the era, using Shinigami or civilians as raw material for forbidden experiments was something Soul Society would never tolerate.
The Noble Council would drag them to trial.
At best, they'd lose their power and be confined within their estate. At worst, their Reiatsu would be sealed and they'd be exiled to the World of the Living—or locked in the Central Prison.
Obviously—
None of those outcomes were acceptable.
But as long as there was no risk of their secret getting out, there was nothing to fear.
As for that little jailer from the Central Prison—well, if one assassination failed, they'd just send more retainers, or members of the Onmitsukidō.
If once wasn't enough, then twice. If twice wasn't enough, then three times.
If the Shihōin had anything in abundance, it was loyal dogs. Those lesser noble houses were desperate to curry favor.
Some of them were even high nobles.
Shihōin Kureji reclined in his chair, shifting into a comfortable position as he admired the night outside the window. The moonlight washed the courtyard clean; stars were scattered like jewels.
Every time their meetings neared the end, he'd watch like this, as if all of Seireitei lay in his hands.
The taste of power was intoxicating.
Come to think of it, the modification techniques they used had been ripped out of some high noble, hadn't they? If he remembered correctly, that man had been close with a certain Shinigami captain.
Though that captain had been dumped into Muken too, apparently.
Tsk, tsk. Competition between ranks was always this brutal. No matter how they struggled, they still couldn't shake our position.
Just like the crescent moon above, and those stars that only grew brighter.
Wait. Why are the stars getting brighter?
Kureji froze for a second, a bad feeling crawling up his spine. He pushed himself out of the chair, heading toward the window for a better look.
Right then, a sharp tearing sound ripped through the quiet night. The "star" grew clearer and blindingly bright.
Outside.
Above the courtyard wall, under the full moon, a figure wrapped in roaring flame streaked past at high speed, sparks bursting in its wake.
It howled through the air—
Diving toward the only building still lit by candlelight, a hundred meters away!
Blazing Reiatsu burned the air, the figure swelling larger and larger in his vision, like a meteor falling from the heavens.
"W-what in the world—"
Kureji didn't even get to finish.
The sense of imminent death snapped him into motion. He fired off the fastest Shunpo of his life, hurling himself out of the study. The doors exploded as he crashed through them.
The others were still frozen where they sat, staring up at the rapidly swelling "meteor" and letting out despairing cries:
"Somebody—!"
BOOM!
In an instant, the sturdy roof disintegrated under Naraku Sora's direct impact, turned into a storm of stone and wood raining down in every direction. The study erupted in screams.
The one who caused it all had already slammed straight through the front of the room and crashed inside.
Impact.
He plowed through everything in his path—crushing desks, shelves, chairs, and, by the feel of it, at least one unlucky elder.
His Reiatsu ticked up by a tiny amount.
Barely more than he'd gain from a day of training.
Dust and smoke billowed through the ruins. Once the collapse settled, only screams and curses remained.
The Shihōin elders had never experienced anything like this. None of them could have imagined someone literally dropping in from the sky, nearly wiping them all out in a single blow.
Outside the wreckage, Kureji's face twitched violently. He still hadn't fully processed what had happened—one moment the study had been whole, the next it was a wasteland.
The elders he'd been chatting and plotting with moments earlier now lay in pools of their own blood, their faces twisted grotesquely in pain.
No trace of their former dignity remained.
Under a collapsed stone slab, Shihōin Sokuji coughed up blood, reaching a trembling hand toward him, lips moving as if begging for help.
A second later, a foot came down on his face.
A slight increase in pressure—
And a crisp crack rang out. The outstretched arm went limp and fell.
Silence.
Naraku felt nothing inside. If anything, he felt like laughing.
The moment these people started plotting his death, they'd become enemies he could never coexist with.
"Time to go, gentlemen."
Amid the swirling dust, a demonic silhouette stood half-shrouded—flames burning around him, heat rolling out in suffocating waves.
The noise had already drawn nearby Shihōin guardians.
More accurately, the personal retainers of these elders.
Furious, they drew their swords and charged the figure in the ruins, their flaring Reiatsu throwing the battlefield into further chaos.
Kureji finally snapped out of his shock. Rage twisted his face as he shrieked:
"Kill him!!"
It was outrageous.
One of the Five Great Noble Houses—one of Soul Society's highest powers—had been invaded right into its innermost rooms. An outsider had caused devastation at the very heart of their estate.
Even elders had died.
These weren't common Rukongai peasants. These were members of a great house, standing above others like gods!
Kureji's eyes bulged. He wanted nothing more than to tear the surrounded intruder to pieces himself.
But what he saw next sent him plummeting into despair. The blood in his veins turned to ice.
Punishment of Jaya rose.
The light and heat around Naraku flared, forming a second sun above the ruins, brighter than the moon. As the blade swung down—
Dazzling azure flames erupted.
Hadō #33: Sōkatsui!
For a heartbeat, the entire estate shook. Smoke and blue fire wrapped together, swallowing every Shinigami rushing in.
When the flames finally faded, only an eerie silence remained over the shattered courtyard—
And one familiar smiling face.
The moment he recognized it, Kureji's pupils shrank to pinpricks.