Shawlong's eyes were scornful.
He'd never believed a mere lieutenant had a chance.
Facing an Adjuchas-class Hollow who wielded both Shinigami and Quincy power, how could a lieutenant resist?
Her burst of power was surprising, but that was all.
He looked at her with pity and extended his hand.
"Fine, I'll use this to kill you."
Terrifying reiryoku gathered in his palm.
Cero?!
Rukia's pupils dilated. It looked like a Hollow's Cero, yet felt different.
A Cero—but not a Cero.
A normal Cero is formed by a Hollow's own reishi, released as light.
But with Quincy power, Shawlong could combine external reishi with his own.
Yamiko had used a similar move once to destroy the Tenchūren, though on a far greater scale.
"Cero: Blitz."
He intoned.
Boom!
The powerful blast fired.
In raw power, it likely approached a Gran Rey Cero.
Seeing how terrifying it was, Rukia could only grit her teeth and take it.
She couldn't retreat—Karakura lay behind her.
She held Shirayuki crosswise and extended her free hand.
An enormous empty wall appeared.
Like compressed air forming a three-meter wall—not thick, but reassuringly solid.
As it formed, she chanted, "Child of the heavens, ironclad citadel. Dragons, lions, tigers, wolves—before collapse, sever heaven and earth. Bakudō 81: Dankū!"
Post-incantation.
A high-level technique: release the spell first, then supply the chant after.
Thus you get the power of a fully chanted spell immediately in an emergency, then supplement after.
Not something most can do—Rukia had Yoshio's tutelage and the Kuchiki library…
And her own talent for kidō.
Dankū is said to completely block any Hadō below 89. Of course, that's marketing.
If Rukia used Dankū against Yoshio's kidō, even a Shakkahō might shatter it.
But generally—against roughly equal power—it works.
Shawlong's Cero: Blitz was fierce, but it couldn't break her full-power Dankū.
The explosion lit the sky over Karakura (invisible to humans).
The shock and sound made Rukia cough, her vision filled with smoke. The backlash weighed heavier on her.
She hadn't recovered from absolute zero and had immediately cast an 81. She was panting.
"Huff… huff…"
She stared at Shawlong—still composed—and her heart sank.
Given Soul Society's response times, backup might take a while.
Seeing panic flicker on her face, Shawlong smiled arrogantly and flash-stepped behind her.
She whirled and slashed. He blocked with the back of his clawed hand.
"After leaving that state, your attack power dropped a lot," he said easily.
Yes—this was normal.
Earlier, at absolute zero, she'd nearly halved him in one stroke—abnormal.
Shawlong's defense below Espada level was top-tier—perhaps exceeding some Espada in pure defense.
He stacked Hollow hierro with Quincy Blut Vene—nearly doubling his durability.
Bored with playing, he swiped with his other claw, carving another cross-laced gash over the first.
"Ugh…"
Rukia groaned, her strength drained, and she plummeted.
"Goodbye, lieutenant."
He squinted, seeing Rukia's eyes dull as she fell, and raised his hand to fire a Cero.
Boom!
Before he could fire, a light arrow shot from afar, detonating his unstable charge.
Boom!
A massive blast engulfed him.
Rukia, about to give up, widened her eyes.
Who?
"Cough… Run."
An old voice came from behind her. She saw a stooped old man with grey hair, wearing white.
He looked frail but firm. "I'll hold him."
"You are…?" Rukia didn't understand—he wasn't a Shinigami, but…
"Bastard!"
Shawlong strode from the explosion, blasting aside the flames, more vicious than before.
He glared at the old man and Rukia. "A Quincy, huh? Old man, if you want to die, I'll oblige!"
He dove at them, claws gleaming.
The old man fired multiple arrows; Rukia half-reclined, lifting her hand to chant, "Ye lord! Mask of flesh and bone, all creation, flutter of wings, ye who bears the name of Man! Truth and temperance, upon this sinless wall of dreams unleash but slightly the wrath of your claws! Hadō 33: Sōkatsui!"
Arrows and kidō fired together, forcing Shawlong to halt. He cleaved Sōkatsui aside; the arrows did nothing.
"Tch… what a monster!"
Rukia cursed.
The old man took the chance to carry her away.
Shawlong started to pursue, then stopped. He dropped to the street and walked to a trash can.
He crouched and picked up a black pearl.
So this was it?
He examined it with interest, forgetting Rukia and the old man.
This pearl had attracted him to Karakura—or rather…
Attracted an Espada.
His lord, his master—the Sexta Espada, Grimmjow.
Yoshio's rule forbade Espada from entering the Living World without orders, so Grimmjow couldn't come.
But subordinates could.
Grimmjow had a loyal and powerful Fracción: Shawlong.
So this was what drew Grimmjow.
Right—years ago, even Barragan had been drawn and got badly injured—humiliated before the Espada.
So it was this thing?
Shawlong weighed the black pearl. It didn't entice him—just radiated evil.
Whatever—he pocketed it to show Grimmjow.
He could go now, but…
As if.
His gaze darkened. "Think you can run?"
He activated his search—he couldn't sense their reiatsu, but they couldn't have gone far; they must be hiding it.
He sonido'd repeatedly to locate them.
…
Meanwhile, they hid in an abandoned hospital. Rukia leaned against a wall, gasping, tending her wounds.
The Quincy old man helped. His medical skill surpassed Rukia's Academy training.
"Who… are you? Why…" she panted.
She didn't say "old man"—Rukia's actual age might exceed his. And calling someone "old man" felt wrong.
"Just an ordinary Quincy. Call me Ishida Sōken."
Quincy…
Rukia was surprised. "You're a Quincy?!"
She'd learned of Quincies from Yoshio—two wars with Shinigami that left them nearly extinct.
Yoshio had mentioned it because he'd taken on a mission involving Quincies—assigned directly by Central 46.
Thinking of that, Rukia asked, puzzled, "Quincy… why did you save me?"
Shinigami were the reason Quincies were nearly wiped out.
Ishida Sōken shook his head; he understood. He sighed. "You don't need a reason to save people. And I agree with your Shinigami. The Quincy practice of erasing Hollows did great harm to the balance."
Rukia blinked, about to reply—when a hand stabbed through the wall beside her head.
Boom!
The wall was pierced. If it had shifted a few centimeters left, her skull may have been skewered.
Ishida yanked Rukia as the claws swept sideways, as if to slice the wall in half.
Shawlong tore the wall away.
"I told you—there's no escape."
He smirked. "A decrepit Quincy and a gravely injured Shinigami—I knew you wouldn't get far."
"Do me a favor and stop struggling. Stand side by side—I'll split you both in one stroke."
"In your dreams!"
Rukia hissed, "Second Dance: Hakuren!"
She unleashed again—freezing Shawlong into ice.
"Run!"
She didn't follow up; she knew Hakuren wouldn't hold him.
Sure enough, cracks spread immediately.
Shawlong burst free and glared coldly. "So you're committed to a cat-and-mouse game. But…"
He didn't chase. He pointed beyond the ruined wall. "If you don't come out, I'll fire a Cero at those poor civilians."
!
Rukia started. Ishida said, "Accept the battle formation of the atmosphere—Letzt Stil!"
In an instant, blue lines framed a rectangular prism around Shawlong.
He was startled, but too late—he was swallowed into the barrier.
"Now!"
Ishida panted. At his age, using Letzt Stil took a heavy toll.
Rukia had to attack.
Absolute zero.
If she wanted to live, she had to be ready to die. If she didn't gamble everything, she'd never escape.
Running was futile.
Despite the strain, she forced a second absolute zero.
Her temperature plummeted. She appeared before the barrier, gripped Shirayuki, and traced a circle.
"First Dance: Tsukishiro!"
At absolute zero, Tsukishiro's power far exceeded before.
The chill swept the entire hospital. A pillar of white light encased the prism; a colossal icicle formed, joining ceiling and floor, with Shawlong frozen at its core.
Seeing him sealed, Rukia finally exhaled—and her skin split in many places.
Blood squeezed from her body, rose, then fell—like a rain of blood.
Rukia became a figure of gore, half-kneeling, Shirayuki stabbed into the frozen floor to support herself.
The blood on her quickly froze. Bitter cold flooded her heart. She shivered, mind fading.
Ishida hurried to treat her.
Then—a crack.
"No… way?"
Rukia's eyes widened in disbelief as fractures spread through the ice. Both faces changed.
Had she spent too much earlier? Even at absolute zero, her freeze might have lost bite.
"Run…"
Rukia whispered, "I'll handle this—go!"
"No, you go." Old Ishida said softly. "I'm dying anyway. Even without this Hollow, I don't have long."
"Don't be absurd! I'm a Shinigami—this is my job!"
"Enough."
Boom!
Shawlong shattered the ice.
"You both die here."
He was in bad shape too—frostbite everywhere, panting.
"Haah… haah…"
Close—another moment and his inner soul would've frozen. If that happened, he'd truly have fused with the ice forever.
He felt fury more than relief.
He hadn't expected to be pushed to the brink by such an old and weak pair.
Clutching his chest, he glared.
Rukia tried to stand—then the floor collapsed beneath her and she fell.
Not good, she thought—then heard Ishida's voice: "To see Shinigami like you before I die—I have no regrets."
"If only all Shinigami were like you."
"Wait—"
She reached up. A white claw, bloody, appeared at the hole's edge; Ishida Sōken's body was lifted on the talons.
Shawlong glanced at the fallen Rukia. "Idiot. You think you're safe down there?"
He flicked Ishida aside like trash and dropped down after her.
Rukia gritted her teeth and ran for the exit.
A soul's power often spikes under mortal threat—but her injuries were too severe. Even with a surge, she couldn't use it fully.
Her shunpo was good, but she was too hurt to outrun Shawlong.
She burst from the hospital; he was right behind, closing in.
Bloodlust filled his eyes. He would seize her in moments.
The more she ran, the worse her wounds. Her head swam. She could barely breathe.
Damn…
So tired.
I can't… go on.
Her mind blurred. Even pain couldn't propel her.
Shawlong appeared ahead.
Die!
He laughed.
She practically ran onto his claws.
Rukia despaired. She reflexively grasped the necklace at her chest—Yoshio's gift, the reincarnation vessel formed from Homura and Shizuku.
So I die here…
But—
Just as she gave up, a blade flicked Shawlong's claws aside.
Rukia stopped, staring blankly at Yoshio's sudden appearance—then, in an instant of total relief, her body went limp and she collapsed.
"You!"
Shawlong's pupils shrank at Yoshio. He almost blurted Yoshio's identity, but caught himself.
"Hadō 63: Raikōhō."
Before he could speak, Yoshio fired Raikōhō.
Boom!
Thunder swallowed Shawlong.
When the lightning faded, nothing remained in front of them.
"You were careless, Rukia."
Yoshio looked down at her. "In this situation, you should have awaited Soul Society reinforcements."
"Captain Yoshio… why are you here?"
"I sensed trouble in the Living World," he said. "And not just me—Hitsugaya Tōshirō is here too."
"What, a captain?" Rukia startled, then looked up—horrified.
Above, many Menos stared down at Karakura, while Hitsugaya stood in the sky alone, facing them.
The disturbance had drawn two captains.
Yoshio touched Rukia's brow. Gentle light flowed into her.
Healing wave.
With Yoshio's reiryoku, her wounds rapidly healed.
"Captain Yoshio, you saved me again," she whispered.
"Don't say saved," he said lightly. "You're my student. Of course I'll help."
Once she recovered, he stopped. He glanced up and flash-stepped to Hitsugaya.
"How is it?"
"Not great," Hitsugaya said. "Too many Hollows. If they all enter Karakura, even the two of us may struggle."
Fortunately, seeing two captains, the Hollows only stared greedily and withdrew.
The darkness stitched itself shut; blue sky returned.
Rukia arrived, bowing her head. "I'm sorry—I failed to handle it."
"Not your fault," said Yoshio. "This exceeded a lieutenant's pay grade. You did well preventing casualties."
"Casualties…"
Rukia's face dimmed. "There were casualties."
"I held Shawlong off only thanks to a Quincy's help. He… was killed."
"A Quincy…" Yoshio and Hitsugaya were surprised. Yoshio said, "Tōshirō, Rukia—handle things here. I'll take care of the Quincy."
"Right." Hitsugaya nodded. Rukia wanted to go but he stopped her.
"Kuchiki, let Yoshio handle it. He's in charge of Quincy-related operations."
Rukia watched Yoshio's back and stayed.
"…Okay."
…
Yoshio reached the abandoned hospital. He found Ishida Sōken's corpse and his spirit, already bearing the Chain of Fate.
"You came…"
Ishida wasn't dejected by death. He'd already reached his time.
"I did," Yoshio said softly.
"Since we parted, it's been years. You haven't changed. I've only grown older."
"And more useless," he sighed.
Yoshio was silent a moment. "How about it? I can still make you a Shinigami."
Ishida shook his head. "No. I've lived long enough as a human."
"If I wanted more time, I'd have gone to Minagi City to find you long ago."
"What about your grandson?" Yoshio asked. "Don't you want to see his future?"
"You said it—'future.'" Ishida smiled. "Peering into the future is Yhwach's domain. We mortals need only see the present."
Seeing his resolve, Yoshio said no more.
"Rest easy. Once you reach Soul Society, I'll arrange your reincarnation quickly."
Yoshio raised his blade for a Konsō.
Shinigami oversee the cycle of souls—like the Rukongai residents awaiting reincarnation.
"Thank you."
A black portal opened, tugging at Ishida.
Before he entered, Yoshio asked, "If I see your grandson, anything you want me to tell him?"
Ishida hesitated, then smiled. "Tell him I'll always be proud of his choices."
He stepped into the passage.
The gate vanished.
Yoshio shook his head, then flicked his hand. A black cube appeared and spat out Shawlong Koufang.
Shawlong hit the ground, saw Yoshio, and stood quickly, bowing. "Yoshio-sama."
"Shawlong, you're an old hand in Las Noches," Yoshio said coolly.
"You know the punishment for insubordination, right?"
"Insubordination?" Shawlong blinked. "I didn't strike at you, Yoshio-sama!"
"I didn't say me," Yoshio smiled faintly.
Not him?
Shawlong didn't understand. When had he defied a superior?
Seeing his confusion, Yoshio snorted. "Since you didn't know… next time, apologize when you see her."
Her?
Shawlong's pupils shrank—he knew who Yoshio meant.
That 13th Division lieutenant?
She was his superior?
Impossible—she's a Shinigami!
Wait…
He remembered a rumor in Las Noches.
Among the three-digit ranks, there was one Arrancar almost indistinguishable from a Shinigami.
She'd broken her mask too completely; other Hollows mistook her for a Shinigami.
She rarely appeared; almost no one had seen her.
Could it be…
Was she that three-digit Shinigami Arrancar?
Shawlong was stunned. He looked at Yoshio. Yoshio added, "Don't get cocky. She wasn't serious yet."
Shawlong recalled—at the very end, as he was about to kill the lieutenant, an unusual pressure had flared from her.
"…Thank you for the reminder," he said respectfully.
"Go back and tell Grimmjow I won't interfere. As long as no Espada enters personally, Fracción can come and go."
"Yes."
Shawlong bowed and opened a Garganta to return.
After he left, Yoshio turned to the broken wall and chuckled.
"Tsunayashiro… so you're the one kicking off the plot."
He vanished.
…
"All done?" Yoshio asked as he reappeared by Hitsugaya and Rukia.
"Mm." He nodded. "We need to report to Central 46 and the Head Captain. If Hollows keep appearing, we may need lieutenants permanently stationed here."
Hitsugaya agreed. That earlier scene was beyond lieutenants.
"Most important is why Hollows reappeared in Karakura. After ten years of calm, they're back," Hitsugaya said. "If mishandled, it could become a Shinigami–Hollow war."
"Tōshirō, take Rukia back," Yoshio said. "Report up the chain. Until orders come down, I'll remain stationed in Karakura."
Hitsugaya nodded—Yoshio's strength could handle it.
They opened a Senkaimon and departed.
Once they were gone, Yoshio flash-stepped away.
…
"Grandpa…"
Elsewhere, Ishida Uryū clenched his fists until his knuckles ached.
Just now, he'd been training with Ishida Sōken as usual.
Though Sōken had little left to teach, Uryū loved practicing with him.
During training, they sensed Shinigami and Hollow reiatsu.
From the feel of it, the Shinigami were being pushed back.
Uryū wanted to help, but Sōken stopped him with medication and went alone.
When Uryū came to, he felt his grandfather's reiatsu vanish…
"Damn it…"
He punched a tree. Pain sharpened him.
If only he were stronger, he could have gone in his grandfather's place.
"No, it's not that you're weak."
A voice echoed in his heart.
Uryū jolted, looking around—nothing.
"Who's there?!"
"It's that the Shinigami are useless."
The voice seemed to speak from within, whispering in his ear.
"Don't forget—it was Shinigami who waged wars of extermination against Quincies. They keep the Three Worlds' order in their hands, yet can't handle Hollows."
The voice was like a devil's murmur, beating with his heart.
"If the Quincies were at full strength, how could a Hollow be a problem?"
"If Shinigami hadn't restricted Quincies, would Quincy training be this hard?"
"If the Shinigami weren't so useless, your grandfather wouldn't have died saving that worthless Shinigami."
"Don't you think this is the Shinigami's fault?"
"Who are you?!"
Uryū searched—even looked up—but found no one.
"Who am I?"
The voice chuckled. "Look in a mirror."
!
Uryū's pupils shrank. He took a pocket mirror and saw himself—then recoiled, bumping into the tree.
"I am you."
His mouth seemed to form the words on its own.
"I am your deepest thoughts. You resent the Shinigami, don't you? Don't suppress your true feelings. Dig into your anger. Kill those useless Shinigami. Prove the Quincies' way is right."
"!"
Uryū's breathing quickened. Rage surged—at the Shinigami, at himself, at the Hollow that killed Sōken.
The human heart is like that: a little dissatisfaction feeds resentment; resentment breeds ugly killing intent.
Only the measure differs.
If someone can amplify that intent, they can nearly control a person.
Uryū clenched his fists so tight his palms bled.
"You're right…"
He whispered, "It's the Shinigami's fault. Such useless beings don't deserve to exist."
Within him, a pure Light Seed seemed stained by a touch of darkness. A comfortable power awakened in his soul.
…
"Big brother! I'm home!"
After school, Inoue Orihime bounced in and opened the door.
As usual, she called out to her brother, Sora.
But she froze at the scene.
Besides Sora, there were two others.
A man and a woman, both middle-aged. The man had a vicious face and thick beard; the woman wore heavy makeup and smoked.
Sora sat across from them.
"Brother, they're…?"
Orihime thought they were visitors and asked.
Sora took a breath. "It's nothing, Orihime. Go to your room and do homework. I'll handle this."
"What's with that tone?" the man sneered. "What do you mean 'nothing to do with Orihime'? She's my daughter!"
Daughter?!
Orihime's pupils shrank. "You're…"
"That's right. We're your parents," the woman said coldly. "We were wondering where you two ran off to. Turns out you're in Karakura. If we hadn't seen that news, we wouldn't know you're living so well."
Greed gleamed in her eyes. "You got jobs at Brainleaf Co., and as charity subjects they gave you millions in living expenses! Outrageous! I gave birth to you, and you live in luxury without telling your mother—how is that fair?!"
"Orihime…!" She looked Orihime up and down. "As expected of my daughter—great figure and face. Come with Mommy, I'll find you a good husband!"
"Shut up."
Sora's face twisted in disgust. "You want to sell Orihime to someone for a big payout, don't you! Orihime, go hang out with a friend. I'll call you when I'm done."
"Done?" The man snorted. "What will you do? Listen, brat—we're moving in today."
"What?!"
"This apartment was assigned to us by the company!"
"What do you mean 'you'?" the man scoffed. "When your father is here, do children get a say? You work at Brainleaf Co.—you must have savings. Go buy another place."