Katen Kyōkotsu—an unusually dangerous Zanpakutō.
Its ability is unlike most other soul-cutting blades. Instead of simply cutting or unleashing raw destructive force, Katen Kyōkotsu transforms something innocent into something deadly: it takes children's games and forces reality to follow their rules.
Anyone who steps within the reach of its master's spiritual pressure—within the range of its reiatsu—is pulled into the game whether they want to or not. The participants cannot refuse. They cannot withdraw. As long as they are caught inside the boundaries of Katen Kyōkotsu's power, they are bound to play.
And the rules? They are not chosen by the fighter, not even by the master who wields the sword. The rules are set entirely by Katen Kyōkotsu itself.
The games may sound childish on the surface, but the consequences are brutally real. If you win, you live. If you lose, you die. There are no exceptions. Even its master, Shunsui Kyōraku, is not spared from this merciless law. If he himself were to fail in a game chosen by Katen Kyōkotsu, his own life would be forfeit.
At this moment, the spirit of Katen Kyōkotsu decided to challenge Nanaya. Without warning, Nanaya was dragged into its strange world of rules and forced to become a piece of the game.
"..."
From the shadows, a figure slowly emerged.
She had long violet hair that gleamed faintly in the darkness, eyes of a pale turquoise that seemed both cold and mocking, and atop her head rested a skull-like ornament, giving her the appearance of a rebellious street girl with a dangerous edge.
Her face was expressionless, her movements smooth and sharp. With a quiet step, she planted her foot onto Nanaya's shadow, pinning it down as if it were his very body. In her hand, she held a short blade, its point gleaming ominously.
Without hesitation, she thrust the weapon downward.
"Abu!"
The short sword pierced straight through Nanaya's shadow, the tip plunging deep into the ground.
At that same instant, Nanaya felt a faint sting across his chest. His eyes flickered downward. There, just over his heart, was a shallow wound—barely more than a scratch, but enough to draw blood.
His brow arched in recognition, and a slight grin curved on his lips.
"So it really is that dangerous… a Zanpakutō that deals double damage, even against its own side." He gave a low laugh, understanding at last the cruel nature of the blade's rules.
Nanaya had already pieced together the nature of Katen Kyōkotsu's ability. Its Shikai was simple to describe but terrifying to face:
Every game begins with a winner and a loser. The one who claims victory first gains a tremendous advantage. Their strength in the next stage of the game increases exponentially—ten times stronger than before. This is what makes Katen Kyōkotsu so unfair. Its power is not measured purely by skill in battle, but by understanding the hidden logic of the game and exploiting it before your opponent does.
If you are too weak, you cannot endure. If you cannot figure out the rules, you will never stand a chance. Against Katen Kyōkotsu, ignorance is fatal.
Meanwhile, the spirit of the blade—Hanaten Kyōkotsu—watched the shallow cut on Nanaya's chest and froze in disbelief. She had clearly struck his shadow. By the logic of the game, the wound should have been devastating. Yet the injury she dealt was hardly deeper than the mark of a fingernail.
Her turquoise eyes widened. "Impossible… I stabbed your shadow directly. How can it be so shallow?"
Nanaya only chuckled, shaking his head.
"I told you already. The difference is too great."
Slowly, he raised his free left hand toward her. His voice was calm, yet edged with sharp confidence.
"With the gap in our reiatsu, the fact that you even managed to wound me at all is something you should take pride in."
But even as he spoke, his eyes narrowed. "Not good."
Hanaten's face changed instantly. She darted forward with surprising speed, closing the distance in a heartbeat. Her feet pounded against the ground as she leapt high into the air, her blade raised overhead.
"Sexy Ghost—Black!" she cried.
Her sword descended like a shadow, aimed squarely at Nanaya's clothes.
This was one of Katen Kyōkotsu's cruel games: Kage Oni—"Shadow Demon." In this variation, one player calls out a color. From that point onward, both combatants may only strike the areas of their opponent's body covered by that color. A cut delivered to any other color does nothing.
And there is another twist—the larger the surface area of that chosen color on the one who called it, the stronger the power of their attack becomes.
Hanaten had chosen "black."
Unfortunately for Nanaya, today he wore a black short-sleeved shirt. That made him an easy target.
Nanaya's expression shifted only slightly, his sharp gaze flickering across Hanaten's body as her blade descended. Her outfit—a long, low-cut dress—was a striking mix of colors. Black, dark red, and purple swirled across the fabric, accentuating her figure. The plunging neckline exposed more than enough of her chest, drawing the eye whether one wished it or not.
Black, he noted, was certainly present in her clothing, but it was not overwhelming. Dark red and violet claimed more of the fabric.
And that was enough.
Instead of focusing on defending against her blade, Nanaya redirected his own attack. Lowering his left hand toward her abdomen, he suppressed a portion of his spiritual energy and muttered in a calm, deliberate voice:
"Shinra Tensei."
In the blink of an eye, a massive repulsive force erupted from his palm. It tore outward violently, like an invisible shockwave, slamming against Hanaten Kyōkotsu with the weight of a collapsing wall.
The long-lost ability he called forth had returned at the perfect moment.
The speed of Nanaya's strike was far faster than Hanaten's descending blade. His attack landed first, hitting the black fabric covering her abdomen.
Though the technique had been used with restrained spiritual power, its force exploded with lethal strength the moment it struck.
Hanaten's face twisted in shock. Her body was flung backward as if caught by a violent storm. She crashed through wall after wall with a deafening rumble, debris collapsing around her, before finally skidding into the ruins.
She tried to rise, her lips parting to speak—but instead she coughed violently and spat a mouthful of blood across the shattered ground.
"..."
Her eyes, once cold and dismissive, now burned with seriousness as she fixed them on Nanaya.
Kyoraku Shunsui had warned her. He had spoken of Nanaya's terrifying strength. But warnings were one thing—experiencing it directly was another. Only now, after facing him head-on, could she truly grasp the despair that clung to his presence.
The young man stood calmly in the midst of destruction. His expression was steady, his breathing unbroken, as if none of this chaos carried any weight at all. With his left hand, he had easily blocked the devastating strike of the Black Rope Heavenly Punishment King. Yet at the same time, he still had the composure to counterattack with his right hand, overwhelming even the manifested form of Katen Kyōkotsu in its Shikai state.
Hanaten's voice trembled with disbelief. "Sōgyo no Kotowari… can't you do anything!?"
Her desperate words were directed at the pair of blue-haired twins standing nearby—the manifested spirits of Sōgyo no Kotowari.
The two small figures, looking identical with their pale blue hair and innocent expressions, shook their heads sadly. Their voices rang out in unison, sweet yet helpless:
"All his abilities are attacks that exist physically. We can't absorb them."
Hanaten and Kuanggu both ground their teeth, their frustration spilling out at once.
"Damn it!"
But despair was not enough to stop them. Their eyes met, determination sparking as they shouted together:
"Bankai!"
"Katen Kyōkotsu: Black Pine Spirit!"
Behind them, massive pine trees of pure darkness unfurled like spreading shadows. The twisted forest rose high, blanketing the battlefield in gloom as an ominous aura of reiatsu flooded the air. Its pressure was suffocating, unnatural, and terrifying.
With their Bankai unleashed, Hanaten and Kuanggu rushed forward, voices overlapping in a chilling cry:
"First Act—Shared Wound of Hesitation!"
In that instant, Nanaya felt a sharp pang in his abdomen, as though he had just struck himself with his own Shinra Tensei. He glanced down, frowning slightly.
"…What a bizarre ability," he muttered.
His mind pieced it together quickly. The Shikai of Katen Kyōkotsu was infamous for turning children's games into lethal duels. But its Bankai… its Bankai was far darker, far crueler. If Shikai was the game of children, then Bankai was the tragic play of adults.
Its power could be summarized simply: a past tragedy re-enacted upon the enemy.
Once trapped inside the domain of "Black Pine Spirit," you had no choice but to take part in this performance. Whether you wished it or not, the stage had already been set.
Nanaya clenched his fist, his thoughts cold. "So with that move just now… she's transferred the wounds she suffered onto me?"
Even as pain tingled through his abdomen, he did not falter. His right hand pushed forward, prying apart the colossal blade of the Black Rope Heavenly Punishment King. The weapon groaned under the pressure, cracks spiderwebbing across its surface. At any moment, it looked ready to shatter completely.
Still, Nanaya lifted his head, his voice cutting through the chaos.
"Kyoraku Shunsui, you damn drunkard! If you don't come out here and help soon, I'll tear your Zanpakutō spirit apart myself!"
It wasn't an empty threat. Nanaya's intent was clear—he had no interest in tolerating the endless games of these manifested blades. His goal was to remove the strange influence that had bewitched the Zanpakutō spirits, turning them against their masters.
But there was a problem. The manifested spirits all seemed to share some strange connection, as though they were aware of what had already happened to Sode no Shirayuki. Their eyes were wary. Their loyalty wavered. Even in the midst of battle, they would not meet their masters' gaze directly.
From afar, Kyoraku Shunsui's lazy yet nervous voice rang out:
"Nanaya-kun, wait! Don't lose your temper yet. Give me three minutes—no, make it ten minutes! Don't break my sword to pieces before then!"
Nanaya's expression darkened. Veins pulsed on his forehead, a thousand black lines of irritation practically visible.
"What the hell is that old man doing!?"
With a sharp breath, he lifted one hand into a seal, his focus cutting through the storm of attacks battering him from both Hanaten and Kuanggu.
"Rain Tiger Freeing Technique!"
At once, the skies over Soul Society darkened. Raindrops began to fall, gentle but unceasing, spreading across every corner. The water connected all things, reflecting them back to Nanaya's perception.
Every figure touched by the rain appeared vividly in his mind's eye.
The materialized Zanpakutō spirits. The Shinigami of each division. Quincy warriors. Even the hulking forms of Arrancar and Menos Grande—all of them were revealed.
And among them, Nanaya quickly located the familiar reiatsu signatures he sought.
There was Kyoraku Shunsui, alongside Jūshirō Ukitake. Nearby stood Hirako Shinji, Muguruma Kensei, Ōtoribashi Rōjūrō, Sarugaki Hiyori, and many other Shinigami.
But opposite them floated a strange, unsettling sight—a yellow figure hanging upside down in the air, its form shimmering like a reflection in a warped mirror.
Sweat rolled down Hirako Shinji's face as he gazed at the figure. Lifting both hands, he called out desperately, his voice strained with sincerity:
"Nifu… calm down! You're my Zanpakutō. You wouldn't betray me, not you. You wouldn't let Aizen or Muramasa twist your will, right?"
But the upside-down figure only stared back with chilling detachment. Its voice rang out coldly, a perfect mirror mocking its master.
"Bankai."
"Niyang-shie Babao Saiji!"
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