Because Aizen had left early, Kurosaki Ichigo hadn't seen what happened before.
But that didn't matter—he wasn't the type to stand by and watch his friend suffer.
Yesterday, he and Ishida Uryū had fought side by side against the Gillians.
The two shared only a brief encounter, yet a quiet bond had already formed between them.
Now, seeing Uryū kneeling and unconscious under the crushing pressure of spiritual pressure, Ichigo's blood boiled.
He completely forgot why he had come here in the first place.
"Kids these days… so rude," Shimo said softly, his expression unreadable as he felt Ichigo's spiritual pressure rising.
"You hurt my friend," Ichigo snapped, hoisting his massive Zanpakutō onto his shoulder, "and you expect me to be polite?"
He dragged Uryū's limp body to the side of the road before turning back to face Shimo.
The lieutenant didn't interfere—merely stood there, watching in silence.
Truth be told, he was curious.
This boy before him—Kurosaki Ichigo—was the one who would become a key figure among the Five Special War Potentials.
Shimo had once observed Ichigo from up close when he was younger, but at the time he'd seen nothing remarkable.
Ichigo's soul was strange, yes—a fusion of Shinigami, Hollow, and Quincy elements—but the potential was dormant, locked away.
Now, that lock had been broken.
The Shinigami power within Ichigo had acted like a key, releasing his hidden potential.
The energy swelling from him was immense—limitless, unrefined, and wild.
As Uryū once described:
"Ordinary Shinigami and Quincy are like closed water taps. Once they open the valve, power flows out."
But Ichigo's spiritual pressure was different. Even when sealed, the spiritual pressure leaking from him surpassed that of many captains in combat.
"Who the hell are you?" Ichigo demanded, his eyes narrowing.
"Why do I feel like I've seen you before?"
Shimo smiled faintly.
"Perhaps it's your imagination. My name is Kyōraku Shimo, Fourth Division Lieutenant."
Ichigo frowned even harder.
"Fourth, sixth, whatever! I don't care about your divisions. My name's Kurosaki Ichigo—and I'm here to make you pay!"
He leveled his Zanpakutō at Shimo, spiritual energy roaring around him like a storm.
Shimo chuckled. "So, you're the human who received Hinamori's powers, hm? The former Fifth Division lieutenant who defied Soul Society's law by transferring her reiryoku to a human. She's been taken back by Captain Aizen to face judgment. Most likely…"
His tone turned cold.
"…she'll be executed."
Boom!
The instant those words left Shimo's mouth, Ichigo's spiritual pressure exploded outward uncontrollably.
The shockwave howled through the street, sending gusts spiraling around them.
"Don't look at me like that," Shimo said mildly. "I'm only following orders."
He sighed, tilting his head. "Didn't your elders ever teach you anything? You should learn to control yourself."
And then—
CRACK. BOOM!
An unimaginable weight crashed down upon Ichigo.
Caught off guard, he was instantly forced to his knees, just like Uryū before him.
His pupils shrank. The raw fear that gripped his heart came from pure instinct—an animal's terror in the face of something absolute.
He roared, gripping his Zanpakutō, driving the blade into the asphalt to steady himself.
The weapon groaned under the strain.
He tried to rise, flooding himself with every drop of strength. His spiritual pressure climbed, climbing still—
—but so did Shimo's.
Every time Ichigo's power grew, Shimo's presence deepened to match, like an endless abyss swallowing his efforts whole.
Minutes passed. Sweat mixed with blood.
"Th–this… this is a lieutenant's power?" Ichigo rasped, his knuckles bleeding, teeth grinding.
Shimo raised an eyebrow.
"You're mistaken," he said quietly. "If all lieutenants were like me, the world would be a much safer place."
Ichigo bared his teeth in a defiant grin, crimson running from his lips.
"Then maybe… I still have a chance."
The words were barely spoken when a surge of power erupted from him.
For a moment, Ichigo's spiritual pressure rivaled that of a captain, bursting past Shimo's spiritual pressure in a violent wave.
A black silhouette flashed upward into the air, blade glinting under the moonlight as it sliced toward Shimo.
Shimo sighed, bringing two fingers together in a sword gesture.
"Still haven't realized the difference between us, have you?"
His fingers flicked once.
Swish!
The movement was so fast it was almost invisible. Shimo's hand lowered, calm as ever.
Ichigo froze midair, eyes wide in disbelief.
Pain coursed through his soul—his strength collapsed like glass.
Thud!
He hit the ground, his Zanpakutō landing several meters short of even touching Shimo.
Shimo stepped closer, his voice quiet and absolute.
"I've severed your Saketsu and Hakusui—the soul nodes that grant Shinigami power. The abilities you stole have been completely taken back. Even if you recover, you'll never wield a Zanpakutō again."
His spiritual pressure pulsed one final time.
Ichigo's vision went black.
...
"Are you done watching?" Shimo asked, not even turning his head. "Enjoying the show?"
A teasing voice answered from above.
"Your timing's impeccable as always, Shimo-kun."
From atop the streetlight, Urahara Kisuke leapt down, landing lightly in front of him.
"That was quite the performance. If I didn't already know the truth, you might've fooled even me."
Shimo exhaled. "These two are your problem now?" He pointed at the unconscious Ichigo and Uryū.
"Their parents must have nerves of steel, letting them wander around like this. What if I'd accidentally sent them to Soul Society?"
Urahara tilted his hat down, smirking.
"If you kill someone, they don't go to Soul Society. And besides—one's a Shinigami, the other's a Quincy. They're hardly ordinary."
He pointed at Ichigo.
"Besides, that one should be calling you cousin, technically."
Shimo blinked. "Oh, for damn sake. Don't start with that."
He waved a hand. "If we're counting bloodlines, that makes me your senior, Kisuke."
Urahara chuckled. "Fair point."
Among the Kyōraku family, Shimo's lineage wasn't a minor one—but he'd never cared for pedigree.
In Soul Society, what mattered wasn't blood. It was strength.
"Enough chatter," Shimo said briskly. "Get them treated fast. I really did sever Ichigo's Saketsu and Hakusui—if you don't act soon, Isshin will have to visit the Rukongai to find his son."
Urahara picked up both boys effortlessly—one in each hand.
He glanced back with a grin. "See you around, Shimo-kun."
But when he turned again, the man was already gone—vanished through an open Senkaimon.
Under the streetlight, Urahara sighed.
"What an incorrigible man."
---
Soul Society – First Division Barracks
Shimo emerged from the portal into the First Division headquarters.
As the command center for the Gotei 13, it possessed its own Senkaimon, guarded by Genshirō Okikiba, the division's Third Seat.
The elderly silver-haired Shōya stood watch near the gate, his spiritual pressure steady and refined—a veteran presence.
"Third Seat Okikiba," Shimo greeted politely. "Where are Captain Aizen and the prisoner, Hinamori?"
Okikiba bowed slightly. "They've already gone to the Head-Captain's office. Captain Aizen said he wished to plead for leniency."
Shimo nodded. "Understood. Thank you."
He vanished in a flash step.
---
Outside Yamamoto's chamber, he arrived just in time to see Aizen stepping out, wearing a strained smile.
"Captain Aizen," Shimo called. "How did it go?"
Aizen exhaled slowly. "There was nothing the Head-Captain could do. Granting spiritual power to a human is virtually unheard of in Soul Society's history—especially from a lieutenant."
Shimo's tone grew sharp. "So what's her sentence?"
Aizen shook his head. "The matter will be passed to the Central 46 for judgment. The Head-Captain advised me to wait for their verdict."
Shimo smiled faintly. The Central 46's verdict?
He almost laughed aloud. That means your verdict, Aizen.
Still, he didn't expose him. He simply said, "Let's hope they show mercy."
Aizen sighed. "Let's hope so. By the way—what of the boy who attacked you in the Human World?"
Shimo raised a brow. "Didn't expect you to care about humans, Captain."
Aizen's gentle smile returned. "Respect for life has always been one of my principles."
Shimo pretended not to catch the hidden irony.
"I only rendered him unconscious. But the one who stole Hinamori's power showed up as well. I destroyed his Saketsu and Hakusui—he won't be a problem again."
Aizen nodded approvingly. "That was the right choice."
The two parted ways along the quiet corridors of the Seireitei—Aizen returning to his division, Shimo heading back toward the Fourth.
...
As he walked, Shimo murmured to himself:
"Those who achieve greatness never fret over details… perhaps that's what separates me from Aizen."
Then he stopped.
A sharp, icy spiritual pressure cut across his path.
From the mist ahead stepped a short figure—silver hair gleaming like frost, turquoise eyes calm and cold.
Tenth Division Captain – Hitsugaya Tōshirō.
Shimo tilted his head, smiling faintly.
"Ah, Shiro-chan?"
The boy's expression cracked for a split second.
"Don't call me that!" he snapped, his composure slipping before he forced himself to calm down.
Taking a deep breath, Hitsugaya straightened and addressed him formally.
"Shimo-san… there's something I need to ask you."
----------------------------///
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