For an instant, time seemed to fall into absolute stillness.
The Kidō barrier overhead gave off a hazy glow, rippling with fish-silk–like patterns that spread outward again and again.
Kuchiki Kōga stood with his sword, Reiatsu light washing over his face and casting heavy shadows so that his expression couldn't be seen clearly—but the blade-like sharpness of his features alone was enough to make people afraid.
Blood dripped from his lowered hands.
And the shards of broken Zanpakutō at his feet were an even stronger warning.
From the terrified looks of the other Shinigami, it was obvious how deeply Kōga's actions had scarred them.
When the Kidō barrier came down and their Zanpakutō stopped obeying them, they thought they'd blundered into a trap and become sacrifices in noble infighting.
They thought Kōga had activated Muramasa and was about to kill everyone present.
But unexpectedly, the loss of control didn't seem to be caused by Kōga.
On the contrary—trying to save everyone, he ignored prohibitions and released Bankai inside Seireitei itself.
It worked, but not well.
Forced into a corner, Kōga used his iron fists to smash their Zanpakutō apart, freeing them from control and saving their lives.
They'd been rescued, but the ability to manipulate other people's Zanpakutō was undeniably Muramasa's power.
Kōga had used it more than once in front of them to crush enemy forces.
Now that a similar, eerie power had turned on them, they finally understood how hopeless those rebel Shinigami must have felt.
Shinigami always trusted their Zanpakutō completely—treating them as partners and comrades that would never betray them.
But when the fight was at its hottest, and your own blade suddenly moved on its own to cut your throat… who could accept that?
The moment their Zanpakutō went out of control, it felt like a bone-deep cold swallowed them whole, making them tremble uncontrollably.
A fear they'd never experienced before flooded through their bodies.
Even though it was over, they still got chills looking at the broken Zanpakutō pieces on the ground.
Sensing those complex stares, Kōga let out a helpless sigh.
Even if he wanted to explain, these people probably wouldn't listen.
Soul Society would never produce two identical Zanpakutō—an unquestionable iron law.
If Kōga didn't trust Muramasa absolutely, even he would have suspected his own blade had betrayed him.
"Kōga…"
Muramasa's voice suddenly echoed in his inner world.
"Y-you… didn't you suspect it was me?"
Even Muramasa was shaken. The ability looked almost identical—he had even wondered whether he'd fallen into some illusion, mistook allies for enemies, and activated his power subconsciously.
But when he carefully sensed it, he found the effect might be similar, yet the strength differed by an unbridgeable gulf.
Even with Bankai, Muramasa still couldn't budge that control.
"Suspect you?"
Kōga grinned with confidence.
"Just like Sora said—Zanpakutō are the Shinigami's own power."
"In the past, I did rely on you too much. That made you—and me—develop almost blind confidence."
"But under Sora's guidance, I began trying other ways to train and fight."
"That doesn't mean I trust you less."
"On the contrary— you are still the one I trust most."
Muramasa fell silent.
As Kōga's Zanpakutō, their hearts were connected in a deep way. Muramasa could sense subtle shifts in Kōga's emotions.
And when Kōga said that, Muramasa could clearly feel the unwavering firmness behind the words.
"…Thank you, Kōga."
The faint voice echoed in the inner world. Muramasa sat on the stone pillar, propping himself up with his hands and looking up at the blue sky as the corners of his mouth lifted slightly.
A lightness he'd never felt before spread in his chest, loosening the nerves that had been tight for so long.
Maybe…
Naraku-sama truly did have wisdom beyond ordinary people.
Back in the real world, just as the street fell into a standoff, several Reiatsu signatures rushed in nearby.
A massive fireball dropped from the sky and blasted the Kidō barrier apart.
"What's going on?!"
The leader wore a white captain's haori. Tall and upright, with righteous features that made him seem dependable.
Tenth Division Captain—Unno Unpei.
"You were attacked?"
"It—it was… the Zanpakutō…"
A Shinigami in the crowd raised his hand to answer. His voice shook, as if he couldn't suppress the fear in his heart.
"For some reason our Zanpakutō suddenly went out of control—our arms were even forced to swing toward each other's throats."
Unno Unpei's gaze turned icy. It passed over the crowd and landed on the swordsman standing there.
"So it was you, Kuchiki Kōga?"
Kōga met the accusation calmly, without a hint of guilt.
"No."
"We just finished a war against rebel Shinigami and were on our way to report to the Captain-Commander. When we reached this area, a Kidō barrier suddenly covered the street."
"Then everyone else's Zanpakutō lost control. I intervened to save their lives. That's all that happened."
Unno Unpei narrowed his eyes and inspected Kōga up and down.
"Both sides have their claims. But based on the traces left at the scene, you are highly suspicious."
"Do you have any other evidence that proves the truth?"
Kōga frowned. A bad feeling spread in his chest.
Everything pointed to someone framing him—trying to pin the taboo of "killing comrades" onto him.
No one died this time, but there was no guarantee it wouldn't happen again.
Just then, another familiar Reiatsu arrived in the street.
An aged face filled with authority. A heavy pressure fell like the sky collapsing, suffocating everyone.
"Captain Ginrei."
Unno Unpei turned and nodded. He respected this senior among captains.
"Perhaps we should take Kuchiki Kōga into custody first. After questioning, we can hand him to the Central 46 for judgment."
Unno Unpei's voice cut off as Ginrei spoke calmly, eyes lowered as if he had no connection to Kōga at all.
"Captain Unno—do you have proof that Kōga did this?"
Unno Unpei frowned slightly.
"No."
"Then were there casualties?"
Unno Unpei scanned the area. The only injured person was Kōga himself—blood on his fists adding to his menace.
After a pause, Unno Unpei shook his head.
"No."
"No proof, no casualties—yet you want to arrest Head-Captain Yamamoto's direct subordinate based purely on speculation."
Ginrei's voice rose slightly. Heavy pressure spread instantly, covering the entire street.
"Captain Unno, that does not seem to follow proper procedure."
The street erupted in shocked murmurs.
Everyone stared at Ginrei, stunned. No one expected the Kuchiki clan head—famous for fairness—to say something like that in public.
On the surface, it looked like favoritism.
But if you thought about it, it also made sense.
Even if all signs suggested Kōga could be responsible, there was no evidence and no deaths. Arresting him outright really would be excessive.
Even Kōga looked stunned—he couldn't believe those words came from his cold, unapproachable father-in-law.
It made no sense.
Ginrei wasn't supposed to act like this. Normally, he would tell Kōga to stop resisting and cooperate with the Onmitsukidō investigation.
The sheer mismatch made Kōga suspect Ginrei had been replaced.
Seeing the suspicion in his son-in-law's eyes, Ginrei's blood pressure spiked.
First this brat ignored his repeated advice and acted recklessly on the battlefield, twisting the course of war with brute force.
Then he got fooled by some idiot, abandoned his Zanpakutō—the foundation of a Shinigami's power—to train "Hakuda swordsmanship" nonsense.
Loud, unruly, not steady at all.
Now he was being framed, and Ginrei stepped in to clear him—only for the brat to suspect him.
Truly, he'd trained his brain into muscle.
Infuriating.
"Then in Captain Ginrei's view," Unno Unpei began, eyes flickering, "we should first take Kuchiki Kōga—"
Ginrei cut him off. "I will personally take him to Head-Captain Yamamoto and explain everything."
"As for the investigation, we'll wait for the Onmitsukidō's findings."
With that, Ginrei stepped up to Kōga. His gaze—sharp as a blade—rested on him.
"Come with me."
"…Yes."
Under dozens of stares, father-in-law and son-in-law headed toward First Division.
...
"Did we fail?"
In the Tsunayashiro estate, in a silent study lit by a candle's warm flame, the elderly man spoke with calm detachment—as if describing something unrelated to him.
Before the desk, Gosuke bowed his head, silent, guilt written on his face.
"Gosuke-dono, you needn't take it to heart," the old man's low voice echoed. "Plans always have gains and losses. You did well."
"We planted a seed of doubt in the Gotei 13's hearts."
"Now we only need to water and nourish that seed—"
"And it will take root, sprout, grow… until it becomes a towering tree."
Gosuke looked up, startled.
By results alone, the scheme had failed completely.
But from the lord's words, was there still a chance?
"No need to be surprised," the old man said quietly. "Calmness is required to achieve great things."
"Gosuke-dono—do not forget what we seek."
"This is only the beginning."
...
Fifth Division barracks, dōjō.
Shing—
Naraku bent into a step, muscles taut. A low sound like a bowstring tightening seemed to rise from his body.
A forceful roar burst at the moment his blade came down.
Secret Technique: Dragon Flash!
The blade split the air. Scorching sword-pressure erupted like magma, instantly raising the dōjō's temperature.
In the next instant, metallic booms rang out and sparks burst everywhere.
As the sword-pressure fell, the dōjō shuddered. The Kidō barrier inside it wavered, as if on the verge of collapse.
The air was thick with heat.
Aizen's eyes flashed with surprise. The Bakudō #81 barrier before him strengthened again.
These days, after suffering inhuman "training" in First Division and Fourth Division, Naraku's fundamental combat methods had visibly improved.
Not only Hakuda and swordsmanship—even his Shunpo was faster than before.
Most importantly, Naraku seemed to have found inspiration somewhere and grasped a terrifying new move—
Black Flash.
The principle was simple:
Compress the timing gap between Reiatsu impact and physical impact down to a value too small to observe normally, distort space, and explode beyond one's limits.
Easy to understand.
But learning it… was far harder than Aizen expected.
Even with his talent, he couldn't easily get started.
By Aizen's estimate, he would need to spend more time before he could even achieve an initial grasp.
Beyond that, Naraku had tried to fuse Dragon Flash with his Kidō-sword style at "Phase One."
Perhaps the details conflicted; the resulting damage wasn't ideal.
Like now.
Even with what looked like a near full-power strike, Aizen's Bakudō held—without even cracking.
"Sora… I think you're going down the wrong path," Aizen said, withdrawing the barrier and offering advice. "Dragon Flash has already reached its limit. Forcing Kidō fusion on top will just create conflict and reduce what should be ten parts of power into three—or even one."
Naraku sheathed his sword, abandoning the impractical idea for the moment.
Because Black Flash and Ikkotsu had paid off so well, he'd wondered if he could stack Dragon Flash into something even stronger.
Strictly speaking, Dragon Flash was pure swordsmanship.
He thought he could apply the same logic as his Kidō-sword technique and fuse it with the Kidō he'd already mastered.
Reality proved he'd been overthinking.
Naraku sat cross-legged on the floor and began testing other approaches.
Beside him, Aizen suddenly frowned—an unfamiliar Reiatsu signature brushed against the Kidō barrier he'd laid.
"This is…?"
Naraku looked up as well, sensing something off.
They exchanged a glance and rose together, heading toward the source.
But just then, a strange fragrance drifted into the dōjō.
Aizen's face changed. He was about to warn Naraku—
When he realized the world in front of them had transformed completely.
~~~
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