"Brother, leave quickly!"
Rukia's voice trembled with urgency, her eyes wet with tears. Shiraha had shattered the impossible and come to her rescue—her heart overflowed with gratitude, yet dread shadowed it. Destroying the King of Destruction carried a grave price, especially before Yamamoto Genryūsai and the assembled captains. Even if she lived, how could Shiraha stand against so many?
"Rukia," Shiraha said softly, a faint smile on his lips, "just watch me free you. Say no more."
The fiery phoenix was gone, reduced to nothingness. Only the Sōkyoku stand remained. Destroy it, and the execution would be broken.
Drawing the blade from his waist, Shiraha's weapon shimmered faintly, spiritual pressure coiling around it like unseen steel.
Steel slid from sheath. A single cut.
"Boom!"
The ground quaked. The Sōkyoku stand, once the seat of execution, split apart with an echoing crack. Shards of timber burst outward in a rain of fragments, scattering into dust.
System notification rang within Shiraha's mind.
"Sign-in complete. Task reward: Gojo Satoru template progress increased by three percent. First template: Fujitora Issho, complete. Second template: Gojo Satoru, ninety-eight percent. Abilities: Six Eyes—perfect; Cursed Technique—Limitless, complete; Reversal Technique—Red, complete; Technique Amplification—Blue, complete; Reversal Technique—Heal, complete; Technique Fusion—Purple, complete. Domain Expansion: Infinite Void—perfect."
As the words pulsed through his consciousness, his power surged, Reiatsu climbing higher, sharper. The blade at his hip trembled faintly, a voice stirring within, though still muffled beyond his reach.
All around, silence fell. None on Sōkyoku Hill spoke. Shiraha had not only destroyed the King of Destruction but the execution scaffold itself. To all eyes, he had defied the laws of Soul Society.
"Just a little more," Shiraha murmured, gaze distant. "One more task… and the template will reach completion. Then, my Zanpakutō will reveal its name."
He lowered from the sky with Rukia in his arms, fragments of the shattered stand hovering as if repelled, unable to touch within a meter of him.
"Rukia," Shiraha said gently as he set her down, "stay and watch. From here on, leave everything to me."
Before Rukia could reply, a figure blurred before Shiraha, blade gleaming.
"Sting all enemies to death! Suzumebachi!"
Suì-Fēng's voice rang as her Zanpakutō released. Her assault struck swift and precise—but the instant she crossed into Shiraha's field, her speed faltered. Movements slowed, suspended as if the world itself resisted her.
"Captain Suì-Fēng," Shiraha said with quiet amusement, "have you forgotten my Zanpakutō's ability? Struggling is pointless."
Her eyes burned as she leapt back, fury in her voice. "Captain Shiraha, do you even understand what you've done?"
"I understand perfectly." His answer was calm, unwavering.
Before she could speak further, a sudden surge of Reiatsu slammed against her from the side. A figure seized her mid-strike, moving faster than her eyes could follow. In an instant, they burst away from the hilltop, descending with explosive speed.
"Release me! Who are you?" Suì-Fēng demanded, gripping at the figure's arm. The masked rescuer's movements, the flow of power—something felt achingly familiar.
"Still so noisy after all these years," the voice teased, warm and playful. "You never learned patience." The mask tore away, revealing a face from her past.
"You… Yoruichi-sama…"
Suì-Fēng froze. Her pupils shrank, body trembling as recognition shattered her composure.
Yoruichi smiled. "Yes. Now hush." Kidō flared in her hand, striking Suì-Fēng's body, hurling them both down from the execution grounds.
Back on the hill, silence reigned, thick with tension. None of the captains moved. All eyes turned to Yamamoto Genryūsai.
The old man's staff slammed against the earth. "Boom!" A surge of crushing Reiatsu burst outward, blanketing the hill. Only the captains and Sasakibe stood unaffected; lieutenants buckled under the weight, Rukia collapsing as sweat beaded down her face.
"Kuchiki Shiraha," Yamamoto's voice thundered, sharp and cold, "you will explain to me why you destroyed the Sōkyoku!" His eyes blazed with anger, voice laden with command.
Since Shiraha's early graduation from the Shinō Academy, Yamamoto had held high expectations for him. The prodigy was one he believed might one day surpass him, inheriting the mantle of strongest Shinigami. Even as Rukia's sentence drew near, Yamamoto thought Shiraha had accepted the law, ready to sacrifice even family for justice.
But today, before every captain, Shiraha had shattered execution and slain the King of Destruction. An act Yamamoto could not ignore.
"Old man Yamamoto, Shiraha—"
"Head Captain, if you'll allow us—"
Shunsui and Ukitake both stepped forward, their voices breaking the tension. But Yamamoto's glare silenced them instantly.
"Enough! Not a word from either of you! Your turn will come later. For now, I am speaking to Kuchiki Shiraha, and only him."
The weight of his fury froze even Shunsui and Ukitake. They had never seen Yamamoto's wrath burn this hot.
The silence stretched until Yamamoto's voice cut through once more. "Kuchiki Shiraha," he declared, each syllable deliberate, "give me your reason. Otherwise… the old man will strike you down himself."
Gasps rippled among the captains. None had expected this. Shunsui and Ukitake had thought Yamamoto would order Shiraha's immediate arrest. Yet here he was—granting him a chance to speak.
It meant one thing only. Even through his rage, Yamamoto still hesitated to raise his hand against Shiraha.
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