Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni was livid.
As the strongest Shinigami in a thousand years, no one had ever dared to act recklessly in front of him.
And now, a teenager—barely a speck in his lifetime—had reflected his flames and even mocked him like he was some schoolteacher with a toy sword.
His Reiatsu erupted violently.
The crimson pressure rolling off his body ignited the air itself. It wasn't just spiritual energy anymore—it was real fire.
Space trembled.
All of Seireitei could feel it—an oppressive, burning weight that threatened to crush everything beneath it.
Hundreds of Shinigami broke into cold sweat.
Sure, they'd always known Yamamoto was the strongest. But knowing it and feeling it were two very different things.
His Reiatsu alone felt like it could incinerate them—mind, body, and soul.
"Yikes," Nanaya muttered from a distance, his hair standing on end. "This really is scary. No wonder both Aizen and Yhwach needed all kinds of tricks just to limit this guy."
Because without limits? No one could beat him.
Nanaya's feet hit the ground—and he vanished.
Moving at high speed, cloaked in Hollow energy, Nanaya phased through solid matter as if it wasn't there. In seconds, he arrived at the 3rd Division barracks.
The moment the guards saw him, their eyes bulged and they instinctively backed away.
"You—! Don't come any closer!" one of them shouted, panicked.
Vice-Captain Kira Izuru stepped forward, sweat pouring down his face—not from fear of Nanaya, but of what might follow.
If the Captain-Commander chose to attack here... the whole 3rd Division might vanish in an inferno.
"Too late now," Nanaya muttered, annoyed. "If I turn back, that's basically admitting defeat. Can't have that."
Without slowing, he kept walking toward the barracks.
"Damn it!" Kira grit his teeth, drawing his Zanpakutō. "Raise your head... Wabisuke!"
The sword released. Its blade curved unnaturally at the tip, heavy and strange-looking.
Kira lunged forward and swung hard—aiming directly at Nanaya's fan.
CLANG!
Nanaya casually swatted the attack aside with his round fan.
Kira was launched backward like a cannonball, smashing into a wall with a heavy thud.
"Hmm?" Nanaya blinked at his fan. "That's new."
The moment it made contact with Kira's Zanpakutō, the weight of the fan had doubled. A side effect of Wabisuke's ability.
"Ugh!" Kira coughed up blood and slowly pulled himself out of the wall, eyes wide in disbelief.
Blown away… by a fan?
But he still had hope. Wabisuke's ability doubled the weight of anything it struck. If he hit the fan twice more, it would be eight times heavier. Basically useless.
But Nanaya wasn't going to let that happen.
He held his fan in his left hand, then pointed his right hand toward Kira.
"Bakudō #62: Hyapporankan!" he said without chanting.
A glowing purple rod formed in his hand. He threw it like a javelin.
Mid-air, it split. One became two. Two became four. And within moments, dozens of glowing rods shot forward, piercing Kira and pinning him to the wall like a bug.
"Guh…!"
The Bakudō didn't kill him—but it didn't need to. The impact alone left Kira coughing blood, his face pale and twisted in pain.
He stared at Nanaya in disbelief.
"A… chantless… high-level Bakudō…?"
Bakudō in the 60s were no joke. Even among the thirteen captains, only a few could cast them without incantation.
And this kid just did it casually.
The surrounding 3rd Division Shinigami were frozen. Their vice-captain hadn't even lasted a minute.
Then—creaaak.
A door in the center of the building opened.
Out stepped Ichimaru Gin, smiling that foxlike smile of his, eyes narrowed and dangerous.
He glanced at Kira, then back at Nanaya. "You're good," he said cheerfully. "Knocking out my vice-captain with a high-level Bakudō. But this is my Division, y'know. Don't you think you're being a bit… rude?"
Before Nanaya could reply, a glint of silver flashed.
A blade shot out of Gin's sleeve—Shinsō, his Zanpakutō.
In a blink, it extended to dozens of times its original length, moving faster than sound.
Most Shinigami didn't even see it.
But Nanaya did.
His Rinnegan captured it clearly. With a calm expression, he stepped forward.
SHINK!
(TLnote-the kitchen sink?/)
Shinsō passed straight through him.
It pierced the wall behind him.
Nanaya didn't flinch. He wasn't even scratched.
Gin's grin faltered slightly.
Nanaya was suddenly right in front of him.
"You really like pulling pranks, huh?" Nanaya grinned.
Gin's smile twitched.
He remembered now—Nanaya's strange Hollow powers let him shift his body into another space. An attack might look like it hit—but it passed through air.
Gin tried to back away, but Nanaya was faster.
He stepped in close and grabbed Gin by the shoulders, as if they were old friends.
"Whoa there! Why so cold? Don't leave just yet. Stay and chat awhile," Nanaya said, his voice light but his grip iron-tight.
Gin broke out in cold sweat as he felt Nanaya's presence up close.
He retracted Shinsō—but it didn't help.
Nanaya looked up at the sky, his expression tightening just slightly.
Above, the heavens were ablaze.
A seething, flame-wreathed Reiatsu covered the sky like an angry god's shroud, burning with wrath so intense it made the air itself scream.
It was Yamamoto Genryūsai's Reiatsu—flaming, furious, and oppressive.
Ichimaru Gin felt sweat trickle down his forehead in thick drops.
This bad… real bad.
The Captain-Commander was beyond angry now. One misstep, and Gin might just get disintegrated.
"Let go of me, human…" Gin's smile was frozen in place, his voice flat with tension.
He surged his own spiritual pressure outward in a desperate attempt to break free.
But—
BOOM!!!
A torrent of blood-red Reiatsu exploded from Nanaya, surging into the sky like a crimson column that connected heaven and earth.
Nanaya stood at the center of it all like a god of chaos—or a demon made flesh.
The ground beneath his feet cracked and shattered. Even the air trembled violently under the weight of his power.
His Reiatsu was a terrifying blend:
The chilling corruption of Hollow energy.
The cutting sharpness of a Shinigami.
Something... more.
Gin's own pressure was immediately crushed. He couldn't move a muscle.
"Wh-What is this…?" he whispered, paralyzed.
Nanaya's grin widened even more as he gripped Gin's shoulders tightly.
"You're smiling so cheerfully," he said in a mock-wholesome tone. "At a glance, I knew you were a good person. Let's be friends!"
Gin nearly coughed up blood.
Good person!? he screamed inwardly. What part of me looks like a good person!? My smile alone has traumatized recruits!
But no amount of spiritual resistance could help. Nanaya refused to let go, instead wrapping an arm around Gin like an old buddy.
He turned toward the stunned members of the 3rd Division and beamed:
"Don't be shy, everyone! Your captain and I are good friends! Let's go to a party!"
The squad's collective scalp went numb.
They instinctively retreated.
Too late.
"Universal Pull."
A sudden gravitational force burst from Nanaya's hand.
Dozens of Shinigami were yanked toward him like marbles on a magnet. In seconds, he was leading a parade of unwilling participants—Gin included—marching happily down the streets of Seireitei.
Nanaya continued walking with a cheerful bounce, dragging hundreds of shell-shocked Shinigami in tow like it was a school field trip.
And every time another squad appeared?
They got swept up into the chaos, rolling into his wake like a growing snowball of confusion and horror.
Hundreds of Shinigami followed behind Nanaya, unwilling, confused, terrified.
As they passed, buildings were devoured by Nanaya's spiritual vortex—vanishing into nothingness.
Witnessing this madness, the Gotei 13 could only stare in stunned disbelief.
Kyoraku Shunsui sighed heavily, tipping his hat and muttering:
"So that's his plan, huh? Using captains and vice-captains as hostages. Unbelievable. A captain, a vice-captain, and hundreds of Shinigami… all being dragged off on a 'picnic.'"
Up above, the sky still burned with furious flame-colored Reiatsu.
At its center floated Yamamoto Genryūsai, veins bulging, face dark, Ryūjin Jakka clutched tightly in his hand.
His gaze locked onto Nanaya.
Murderous.
If this had happened a few centuries ago, he would've cut Nanaya down without hesitation—hostages be damned.
But now...
Before he could erupt in another wave of fury, Nanaya looked up with a bright, exaggerated wave.
"Old man! Wanna come to the party too!?"
Yamamoto's eyelids twitched violently.
Then—with a grim grunt—he vanished, dissolving the flames above as he withdrew from the sky.
He had to leave. If he stayed even one second longer, he might incinerate the boy and everyone else in the blast radius.
A stunned silence fell over Seireitei.
The Captain-Commander had backed down.
Not even he could act recklessly now.
Hostage or not—Nanaya had demonstrated power and precision no one could ignore.
That was strength.
True strength.
The kind that made the rules bend around it.
Watching Yamamoto retreat, Nanaya pouted slightly.
"Aww... I wanted to ask if I could borrow Ryūjin Jakka to grill some meat," he muttered.
(TLnote-that would be funny if they did it tho)
Ichimaru Gin, still clutched awkwardly by the shoulder, had turned ghost-white with fear and frustration.
"Don't push it, kid," he hissed. "Let me go. Now. Before we both get roasted."
He knew Yamamoto's temper.
The only reason they were still alive was because of a rare moment of restraint.
Centuries ago? Even if Nanaya had taken thousands of Shinigami hostage, Yamamoto wouldn't have blinked before reducing the entire division to ash.
Nanaya just chuckled and hugged him tighter.
"Come on, Gin. We're brothers now. At least stick around for the walk."
He took a deep breath.
There was something else too.
He could feel it.
Swallowing all those buildings and absorbing spiritual essence—his Rinnegan was changing again.
Shifting.
Evolving.
And Nanaya wasn't ready to leave until he figured out just what it was becoming.
For Advanced chapters Visit :: patreon.com/Kaguyahime20