Chapter 115: Our Beauty and Our Brawn
A wave of elation, potent and dizzying, washed over March 7th. A powerful surge of self-confidence swelled in her chest, so intense it was almost intoxicating.
In her mind's eye, a glorious future was already taking shape: a monstrous enemy rampaged, pushing the Astral Express crew into a desperate battle. Even the ever-reliable Mr. Yang found himself at a loss. Then, at the most critical moment, she, March 7th, would gracefully leap to the front lines. In her hands, she would hold the pure, snow-white Sode no Shirayuki. Her lips would part in a delicate smile as she uttered the command, "Dance, Sode no Shirayuki!"
In an instant, frost would bloom across the battlefield. A frigid gale would sweep through, and the once-unstoppable foe would be frozen solid, transformed into a magnificent, crystalline sculpture.
Stelle would watch from the side, completely dumbfounded, before rushing over to shower her with praise. "March! You're incredible! You're the Astral Express's new guardian, our strongest fighter!"
"Pfft…" The sheer beauty of the scene was too much. March 7th couldn't hold it in and burst out laughing. Her face was radiant, a brilliant smile mixing pride, longing, and a touch of pure silliness. All her previous frustration had vanished without a trace.
Meanwhile, Sunday, observing from a short distance away, felt his confusion reach an all-time high.
He had watched March 7th's expression shift like a high-speed rollercoaster. First, there was the grim determination as she closed her eyes to draw her prize. This was followed by the verge of frustrated tears, which then morphed into sheer shock and wild joy. Finally, she was just staring into space, lost in a goofy daydream. This entire cascade of rich, intense emotional fluctuations had occurred within the few seconds it took her to tap at the empty air.
"Senior Star," Sunday inclined his head, once again humbly seeking guidance from the 'senior'beside him. "Miss March's emotions just now… they seemed extremely volatile. That entire sequence—the tension, the sorrow, the ecstasy, and finally… falling into a state of self-indulgence. Is that also a necessary part of some… special mystic ritual? Or perhaps a unique way of channeling the power of this'chat group'?"
His golden eyes were filled with pure, unadulterated bewilderment.
Stelle glanced at March, who was still lost in her own world and giggling, then back at Sunday's genuinely curious face. She scratched her head, momentarily stumped. How was she supposed to explain the complex psychological journey that involved 'the despair of the terminally unlucky,''the ecstasy of a sudden windfall,' and'the activation of eighth-grader syndrome fantasies'?
"Well…" Stelle struggled to assemble her thoughts. "You can think of it as… um… a kind of… spiritual 'unboxing' experience? The greater the emotional fluctuation, the greater the surprise… or shock… of the reward! Yes! That's it!"
She then continued her analysis for Sunday's benefit. "Judging by March's silly grin, she must have pulled something good."
"It's probably just a blue-quality item, right?" Stelle mused aloud. "That's pretty good for the group, but there's no need to get that excited…"
As she spoke, her tone began to fray with an almost imperceptible thread of doubt.
'No, that's not right,' she thought. The last time March had drawn the blue-quality Sheep Talisman, she'd been happy, but nowhere near this… this level of jackpot-winning, giggling delirium.
Something was wrong. Very wrong.
A thought that made her stomach twist with a familiar sourness bubbled up uncontrollably. 'Could it be… March drew… a purple one?''Impossible! Absolutely impossible!' Stelle screamed internally.
She, the dignified Stelle, a veteran administrator of the chat group, was still making do with her blue-grade Fire Dance Whirlwind—strong as it was. She hadn't even sniffed the edge of a purple-grade item. How could March 7th, of all people, suddenly be blessed by the goddess of luck and surpass her?
The curiosity and indignation were too much to bear. Forgetting all about her half-baked explanation to Sunday, she darted over to March 7th, who was still basking in the glory of her "ice goddess" fantasy.
"March! Spill it! What did you get? You're smiling like you swallowed a sun!" Stelle pressed, her eyes fixed on March's face as if trying to read the answer there.
Sunday watched as Stelle, who had been eloquently pontificating one moment, suddenly shot off toward her companion without warning. He sighed under his breath. It seemed that to fully comprehend the Nameless, and especially Stelle's behavioral patterns, he still had a great deal of observation… and learning to do.
Startled out of her daydream, March flinched. But seeing it was Stelle, her smug little expression immediately returned.
"Hmph, hmph! Star, prepare to welcome the birth of one of the Astral Express's future strongest combatants! This time, I drew—a purple-quality treasure!"
"Pur… purple?!"
Even though Stelle had suspected it, hearing March confirm it with her own mouth shattered the last vestiges of her hope. She audibly gasped.
"That's right!" March nodded vigorously, as if afraid Stelle wouldn't believe her. With a simple thought, she materialized the freshly acquired Zanpakuto right there in the observation car.
A flash of pure white light brought with it a whisper of cold.
A longsword, entirely the color of fresh snow, materialized in the air before March 7th. Its design was simple yet elegant. The blade looked as if it were forged from the clearest, most flawless ice, its lines fluid and understated. It bore no superfluous decoration, yet it radiated an inviolable, chilling aura.
The sword didn't pulse with world-shaking power, but the extreme cold and sharpness contained within it, along with a subtle, unique pressure that seemed to target the soul itself, told both Stelle and Dan Heng—who had been observing quietly from the side—that this was no ordinary weapon.
This was the legendary ice-type Zanpakuto—Sode no Shirayuki.
"Look! Isn't it beautiful?" March carefully took the hilt. An icy touch, as intimate as if it were connected to her own bloodline, spread through her palm, making her fall in love with it even more. The description hadn't done it justice; seeing it in person, it was breathtakingly beautiful.
She proudly showed off Sode no Shirayuki's graceful curve to Stelle. "This is hailed as the 'most beautiful ice-type Zanpakuto' in its home world! Look at this aura, this elegance! It's practically tailor-made for me!"
She continued to flaunt her newfound knowledge. "And it's not just a pretty face! It has two release forms, Shikai and… uh… another one!"
"Shikai can unleash super-strong freezing energy, flash-freezing everything! It can even attack the soul directly! The power is just explosive!" March pumped a small fist, as if she could already see herself felling a mighty foe with a single, elegant strike.
Stelle stared at the pure white, chilling longsword, listening to March describe its seemingly overpowered abilities. Her own envy was so thick she could almost taste it.
But who was she? She was Stelle, a master of adapting to any situation, a connoisseur of human relations! In an instant, that intense envy was weaponized into action.
"Wow—! March!" Stelle's face split into an incredibly sincere and brilliant smile. Her voice turned syrupy sweet as she launched a fierce barrage of compliments.
"Wow! March! Your luck is just heaven-defying! I knew it! Our March 7th is naturally beautiful, intelligent, and overflowing with good fortune!"
"Look at this sword! This luster! This design! It's simply perfect for you! 'The most beautiful ice-type Zanpakuto,' it truly lives up to the name!"
"With this sword, enemies will be stunned by its beauty before the fight even starts! Paired with your heroic prowess, March, what enemy won't be a total pushover from now on? You're going to be the face of the Astral Express!"
March was quite pleased at first, nodding her head like a pecking chickadee. But the more she listened, the more something felt off.
Stelle, this girl, was usually the first to roast her about anything and everything. Today's flattery was a bit too loud, a bit too deliberate, wasn't it?
She narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing Stelle's overly bright smile. "Stop, stop, stop! Star, you're suddenly laying it on so thick it's nauseating. You must be up to something! Confess, what do you really want?"
Her little scheme exposed, Stelle wasn't the least bit embarrassed. Instead, she chuckled and rubbed her hands together, her face a mask of eager anticipation.
"Hehe, you saw right through me. March, we're besties, right? Look, a sword this amazing… can I just… play with it for a bit? Just for a moment! I promise I'll be gentle! I swear!"
'Just as I expected!' March's internal abacus clattered loudly.
She put her hands on her hips, an "I knew it" expression blooming on her face. Then, with a hint of smug regret, she shook her head. "Star, this time, your little scheme is going to come up empty!"
"Huh? Why?" Stelle's smile froze.
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