Snow drifted over Seireitei.
Higashino Shuuichi brushed a few flakes from his sleeve as he stepped out from the 2nd Division barracks, having just taken his leave of the reluctant Shourei.
He hadn't walked far before unfamiliar reiryoku signatures stirred around him.
"Heh."
With a faint smile, he flicked a coded gesture with his left hand. The signal, long prepared, sped toward Aizen in the 5th Division.
Then he continued on as if nothing were amiss, heading out to South Rukongai's District 73.
Once a noble hunting ground, the district had been cleared of its residents. Since the disastrous hunt, its ruins had been left neglected. Two months on, reconstruction had barely begun.
Now it was little more than a hideout for criminals from higher-number districts. And a convenient place for… discreet meetings.
"You've followed me this far. Not going to make a move? Planning to wait until I reach District 80?"
Shuuichi set down the sword case he carried.
"*Higashino Shuuichi, former vice-captain of the 4th Division, now 3rd Seat. Skilled in kaidō and hakuda. His zanpakutō's shikai is under strict control—no non-captain Shinigami permitted to release it…*"
Figures stepped out, surrounding him, binding spells already woven to cut off every route of escape.
"Really? And who are you reciting that for? Think I don't know my own dossier?"
Shuuichi smirked. *Unless you add 'runs with Aizen Sōsuke,' I'm not impressed.*
"Three things," their leader said, raising three fingers with false solemnity. "First—return the zanpakutō at your feet. Second—tell us how you obtained it. Third—report every step you've taken since returning from the Human World until today."
The pose. The tone. Shuuichi almost laughed. *Am I the one pretending here, or are you?*
"Three demands, huh? Then hear one answer."
He lifted his chin, pride plain on his face.
The man frowned.
"You're not qualified to speak to me that way. Not your level."
"Hadō no. 63, Raikōhō (Thunder Roar Cannon)!"
Without hesitation, the man fired. No incantation, no loss of power. His full-strength Raikōhō had felled many before—even vice-captains.
He was certain it would finish Shuuichi. Later he'd simply claim his target had resisted to the death. As long as the Bakkōtō was recovered, the higher-ups wouldn't care.
But he had misjudged his quarry.
"Bakudō no. 39, Enkosen (Circular Shield)!"
A disc of reiryoku flared before Shuuichi. The roaring blast smashed against it and broke apart—leaving not a crack.
"Impossible! That's only No. 39! How could it block *my* Raikōhō!"
Shuuichi didn't bother to reply. His answer was a raised finger.
"Hadō no. 63, Raikōhō."
Same spell. Same no-incantation cast. His foe panicked, threw up an Enkosen too. He should have dodged. But he hadn't.
The result was night and day.
When the smoke cleared, what was left of the man collapsed to his knees.
"Not qualified."
Shuuichi's gaze slid past the corpse to the others.
Unexpectedly, they showed no fear. Instead, each drew forth a Bakkōtō and charged together.
"Where do you get that kind of courage? Liang Jingru?"
The old joke surfaced in his mind. His body moved without pause.
"Tsunzuki."
"Shatterbone."
"Step-Crush."
No kidō. No need. Just shunpo and hakuda. In under a minute, all were dead—joining their comrade.
Why so decisive? Because when the first one fell, Shuuichi's senses had caught it: another presence, hidden.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
Polite applause echoed. Bakudō 26, Kyokkō, peeled away, revealing an elder in noble robes.
"They say the former vice-captain of the 4th is gentle, kind. But I see Higashino Shuuichi is far harsher, hiding such power."
"Too generous. Soul Society is full of masks. Mine is nothing special. And perhaps this *is* my kindness. They died swiftly. Without pain."
Shuuichi didn't know him. But instinct screamed—this man stood high in the Kasumioji family.
"Is that so?" The elder smiled. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Kumoi Gyoukaku, steward of the Kasumioji. And the creator of the zanpakutō at your feet."
(End)
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