"Get lost!"
The single word detonated with compressed spiritual pressure.
Sombravida did not release a wide, uncontrolled burst of reiatsu. Instead, he condensed it inward and projected it forward in a narrow wave — sharp, focused, crushing.
For a split second, the Shinigami's breathing stalled.
Jin'an's pupils constricted.
The pressure vanished as quickly as it came.
Sombravida's total spiritual reserves had not yet reached seated officer level — but the density of his reiryoku far exceeded Jin'an's loosely controlled output. That brief collision had forced Jin'an's spiritual flow into disruption.
But only for a moment.
Jin'an quickly re-evaluated.
When he sensed Sombravida again, the surface-level reading appeared lower than his own.
"You brat! You dare raise your voice at me?" Jin'an snarled. "Do you even know who you're speaking to?"
"A Shinigami," Sombravida replied flatly.
"And yet you defy me? Are you insulting the authority of the Gotei Thirteen?"
Sombravida's voice turned cold.
"The Gotei Thirteen enforces order. It does not abduct civilians without cause. What crime did my sister commit?"
Jin'an sneered.
"She carried a weapon openly in the market."
"There is no Rukongai law forbidding the carrying of blades," Sombravida replied immediately. "And that sword is an unsealed standard training blade — not a Zanpakutō. It remained wrapped. It was not drawn. In Rukongai, such items are valid trade goods. As a Shinigami, are you unfamiliar with basic civilian regulations?"
Jin'an stiffened.
Behind him, the merchant shouted desperately.
"Standard blades belong to nobles! He stole it! Arrest him!"
Jin'an seized the excuse.
"Yes! How did you obtain it?"
"Trade," Sombravida answered calmly.
"Impossible! Standard training blades do not circulate outside Seireitei!"
Sombravida tilted his head slightly.
"…Which division are you from?"
Jin'an straightened arrogantly.
"Eleventh Division! Jin'an! Under Captain Kenpachi!"
Sombravida's expression did not change.
"The Eleventh Division specializes in combat against Hollows. Patrol duties in Rukongai fall primarily to the Fifth and Tenth Divisions. On what authority are you conducting arrests here?"
Several onlookers murmured.
Jin'an's jaw tightened.
He knew Sombravida was correct.
But pride overrode restraint.
"Enough talk."
He drew his Zanpakutō.
The blade gleamed under moonlight.
"Show them, Nai Shika."
He spoke the release.
"Trample — Nai Shika!"
Spiritual pressure flared.
The blade dissolved into reishi and reformed around his forearms — transforming into massive armored gauntlets. Antler-like protrusions extended forward from each fist.
A physical-type Shikai.
Typical of the Eleventh Division.
Heat shimmered faintly around the gauntlets — not flame-based, but frictional pressure compression.
"Die!"
He lunged.
The ground cracked beneath his charge.
Momo cried out.
Shiro froze, spiritual pressure trembling erratically under stress.
The punch came straight for Sombravida's skull.
Sombravida moved.
Not backward.
Sideways.
Minimal displacement.
His torso rotated just enough for the antlered fist to pass inches from his face.
His right hand snapped upward in a circular deflection — redirecting Jin'an's arm trajectory.
The Shikai-enhanced fist smashed into the ground instead.
Boom.
Dust exploded outward.
Heat scattered.
Sombravida had already retreated three steps, preserving distance.
Jin'an recovered quickly and swung again.
This time faster.
Sombravida did not reach for his sword.
Instead, he picked up a fragment of gravel between his fingers.
Compressed reiryoku surged through his legs.
For a heartbeat, his body vanished from Jin'an's direct line of sight.
It was not Shunpo.
It was raw acceleration driven by compressed output.
They crossed paths.
Jin'an's strike sliced air.
Sombravida's gravel-embedded strike drove directly into the rib gap beneath Jin'an's left guard.
Crack.
The sound was unmistakable.
Reiryoku-infused impact had turned the small stone into a piercing tool.
Jin'an staggered.
Air fled his lungs.
Pain radiated through his torso.
His spiritual control wavered — and the Shikai collapsed back into sealed form.
He fell to one knee, gasping.
Sombravida stood still.
"Eleventh Division," he said quietly. "And this is your standard."
He walked past the fallen Shinigami.
The merchant's composure shattered instantly.
He released Momo.
The katana clattered to the ground.
He scrambled backward.
"You… you can't touch me! My uncle—"
Sombravida picked up the blade.
Drew it slowly.
The steel sang.
He stepped forward.
The tip stopped precisely before the merchant's nose.
"You extort civilians," Sombravida said calmly. "You abuse borrowed authority."
The blade rose.
Reiryoku condensed along its edge.
The merchant screamed.
The slash fell.
Clang—!
The blade halted a hair's breadth above his scalp.
A crescent furrow carved into the ground behind him.
A strip of hair fell.
The merchant collapsed unconscious, reeking of fear.
Sombravida exhaled softly.
He had not intended to kill.
Killing a seated officer and a noble-affiliated civilian would trigger investigation from Seireitei.
He needed intimidation.
Not escalation.
He turned to the crowd.
"Is no one going to reclaim what was taken from you?"
Silence.
Then movement.
Residents flooded the merchant's shop.
Fabric, clothing, goods — seized instantly.
Sombravida did not intervene.
If goods vanished collectively, blame would scatter.
Jin'an would answer first.
Not Sombravida.
He sheathed the blade.
"Let's go."
On the way home, Momo's voice trembled.
"Will they retaliate?"
Sombravida answered calmly.
"I showed strength. I did not draw blood. That balance matters."
He glanced toward Shiro.
"You did well not engaging."
Shiro's jaw tightened.
"So we endure this forever?"
"No."
Sombravida's tone sharpened.
"We rise above them."
Momo's eyes ignited.
"Become Shinigami."
Shiro looked upward, conflicted.
Desire.
Resentment.
Attachment.
All tangled together.
Dinner that night was quieter.
Grandma understood immediately.
She approved of Sombravida's restraint.
Strength demonstrated.
But not fatal.
"Focus on the Academy," she said gently.
Sombravida nodded.
"Yes. Two or three months. I'll aim for Shin'ō."
Grandma smiled.
"When you go further, remember this home."
After dinner, Sombravida returned to the forest alone.
Hunting resumed.
It could not stop.
Spiritual growth required intake.
With a proper blade now in hand, his efficiency rose dramatically.
Lower-class Hollows could no longer withstand him.
Even mid-tier Hollows would fall with preparation.
That night—
One Hollow.
Three rabbits.
Two pheasants.
A smaller wild boar.
Two salmon.
He built a fire.
Roasted efficiently.
Consumed what he needed.
Absorbed the Hollow mask fragment carefully, stabilizing it before compression.
Reiryoku surged.
His reserves deepened.
Satisfied, Sombravida lifted the wild boar onto his shoulder and began walking back toward Rukongai.
The forest behind him fell silent once more.
Visit patreon.com/ShiroTL to gain access to 40+ chapters