"Yo, it's"Yo, it's been a while, Yūshirō."Yūshirō."
Ōetsu Nimaiya was, as always, the Soul Society's number one trendsetter. If the Zero Division members weren't forbidden from leaving the Royal Palace freely, he probably would have already started his own "Soul Society Hip-Hop" movement down below.
"Yooo long time no see, Ōetsu."Ōetsu."
Yūshirō Shihōin greeted him in the same sing-song style, mimicking his way of speaking.
Ōetsu, dressed in his sleeveless haori-vest, threw up playful hip-hop hand signs and asked,"So what brings you to my spot today? today? "
Yūshirō grinned, copying Ōetsu's gestures and deliberately speaking in a strange rhythm."Of course! I came here because… I want… a Zanpakutō! Zanpakutō! "
Ōetsu's smile faltered. "You want a Zanpakutō? Zanpakutō? "
Yūshirō nodded seriously, dropping the jokes now that he had touched on business.
"What kind of Zanpakutō are you after? after? " Ōetsu asked as he pulled out several prepared blades.
Yūshirō didn't even glance at the swords. Instead, he casually pointed behind Ōetsu—at the group of sword-maidens standing in a neat row."That kind."
Ōetsu froze, then followed Yūshirō's gaze. His expression darkened.
The Zanpakutō Yūshirō wanted were none other than Ōetsu's "maid squad."
"Take any of the other swords here, but not my darlings! darlings! "
Sweat beaded on Ōetsu's forehead as he instinctively stepped back, shielding the sword-maidens behind him like a man protecting treasure from a thief.
Yūshirō smirked. "Oh? So you mean… aside from them, everything else is fair game? Then I'll just take this one."
Before Ōetsu could react, Yūshirō reached into a strange gelatinous substance and drew out a bare Zanpakutō with no scabbard.
Ōetsu's eyes widened. "That's… Sayafushi?! Sayafushi?! "
He hadn't expected Yūshirō to uncover that blade from his trunk. That sword had never been meant for anyone else.
Ōetsu forced a smile, trying to regain control. "Yo~ Yūshirō, I could give you that one, but it's a failed creation. Its very nature makes it impossible to craft a scabbard to contain it. I really recommend you try one of these other swords instead. Trust me, Sayafushi isn't something you can control."
From behind him, he pulled out the Zanpakutō he had specifically prepared for Yūshirō.
But Yūshirō tilted his head, murmuring almost to himself,"No scabbard can contain it…? Not necessarily."
The next instant, pitch-black spiritual pressure burst from Yūshirō's body, swirling and condensing around Sayafushi. Before Ōetsu's eyes, an unnatural sheath of binding kido formed to contain it.
"See? Problem solved. If you can't forge a scabbard for this blade… then I'll just become its scabbard myself."
He slid the sword into the dark sheath he had woven from his own power and secured it at his waist. As long as he kept feeding it reiatsu, the scabbard would never shatter.
Ōetsu froze in disbelief, still clutching the sword he had meant to give Yūshirō. Sayafushi—his proudest creation, a blade so sharp it could never be broken, never be sheathed, embodying the very essence of a sword's rule—was now hanging at Yūshirō's side. The "failed work" he'd boasted about was actually one of his greatest triumphs, something he had never planned to hand over to anyone. And yet, Yūshirō had tricked him and taken it.
"Wait—who was it you said couldn't control this blade again? again? "
Yūshirō narrowed his eyes mischievously.
Ōetsu's voice wavered. "I… I said…" His pride as the "God of the Sword" kept him from begging outright, but his eyes were fixed on Sayafushi with undisguised longing.
Yūshirō suddenly snatched the other Zanpakutō from his hands.
Ōetsu blinked. Not only did he steal Sayafushi, butSayafushi, but he's taking the spare one too?!
Yūshirō studied the sword and immediately sensed the difference. This wasn't just a standard Asauchi—it contained something more.
He closed his eyes,eyes, and his consciousness was pulled inside the blade.
He appeared in a vast void of darkness. Before him sat a colossal, mountain-sized being, its massive body curled up, staring at the sky in lonely silence.
"Who dares intrude here?! here?! " the being's voice thundered. Then its tone wavered. "…Soul King? Is that you? Have you come for me? No… no, you're not the king.king. What are you? you? "
Yūshirō smirked. "You're right, I'm not the Soul King. I'm your father." He wagged a finger. "Now, be a good son and tell Daddy your name."
The giant's jaw dropped, then twisted into rage."Insolence! Don't mock me, intruder! One day I will escape this prison, and when I do—I'll devour you until nothing remains! remains! "
Before Yūshirō could probe further, his consciousness was forcibly expelled from the blade.
He opened his eyes and chuckled. "Stubborn one, aren't you? you? "
Ōetsu leaned forward, worried. "What did you see? see? "
"Just some giant monster," Yūshirō replied casually. "For a second, it even mistook me for the Soul King. I toyed with it a bit, then it threw me out in a huff."
Ōetsu's thoughts grew heavy. So even if Yūshirō's body isn't fit to be the Soul King, his reiatsu alone is strong enough to qualify. But his personality… there's no way we can use him.
Yūshirō asked, "So what's this sword's name? I didn't get the chance to hear it."
Ōetsu frowned. "That blade… wasn't really meant for you. And since you already have Sayafushi, there's no need for you to keep another. Honestly, having two Zanpakutō is excessive, even for a Soul Reaper."
He reached to reclaim the sword. But before he could touch it, a new voice rang out:
"Its name… is Ikomikidomoe."
Ōetsu stiffened. Standing beside him now was Ichibē Hyōsube, the "Monk Who Calls the Real Name."
Yūshirō's brows shot up. "Ikomikidomoe? What a weird name! Who came up with that? that? "
Ōetsu glared sideways at Ichibē, who only looked up at the ceiling with feigned innocence.
Yūshirō smirked knowingly. "I see."
The next moment, he dove back into the sword's inner world—
There, the enormous white beast with glowing orange eyes looked up at him again in shock.
"You—how are you here again? You don't have the qualifications! qualifications! "
"Don't worry about that," Yūshirō said lazily. "My reiatsu is just stronger than yours."
The monster roared in fury and lunged.
Yūshirō's voice cut through. "What's wrong? Don't tell me you don't like being called Ikomikidomoe? "
The giant froze. "Where… did you hear that name? "
"So that is your name," Yūshirō nodded.
The being bellowed. "That is not my name! I had a true name—long ago, in Hueco Mundo, I was its ruler. I was the mightiest Hollow, the one who defeated Yamamoto Genryūsai centuries ago—not in his prime, but still! I stood before the Soul King's palace alone… and then those two came. The Blade God Ōetsu Nimaiya and the Monk Ichibē. One stole my name. The other… turned me into a sword."
Yūshirō's smile faded slightly. "Then… what is your real name? "
The giant shuddered. For a long time, it said nothing. Then, with a voice heavy with grief, it whispered:"…I've forgotten."
That was Ichibē's curse: once he takes a name, it is gone forever.
Yūshirō's expression softened. He reached up and patted the giant's head."That's fine. From today, I'll call you… Little Kiba."
The giant's eyes widened at the unexpected kindness. And then, embarrassed, it shoved him back out of its world again.
Yūshirō raised the blade high. "I've decided. I'm keeping this one too."
Ōetsu's voice trembled. "And… what about my Sayafushi? "
Yūshirō blinked innocently. "Sayafushi? What's that? "
Ōetsu clenched his fists. "The sword at your waist! "
"Oh, this one? Didn't you lose a bet to me? That makes it mine, doesn't it? " Yūshirō said with mock confusion.
Ōetsu's composure cracked. "You can't seriously intend to wield two Zanpakutō…"
Yūshirō grinned. "Of course not. I plan to wield ten. I'll fill my entire waist with blades, so no one can say I don't have one. Let's see Yamamoto try to use the 'no Zanpakutō' excuse to stop me from graduating again."
Ōetsu followed Yūshirō's gaze—straight toward his squad of sword-maidens—and nearly fainted.
"Leave. Now. Immediately. I don't ever want to see you again! "