The air remained sharp with cold. Snowflakes drifted down, but none touched the ground inside the reiryoku barrier.
Shuuichi's feet pressed into slush still melting from his own power as he studied the aged noble before him.
In his memory, Kumoi Gyoukaku had appeared during the Bakkōtō affair, but only at the edges. Most of the attention had gone to Captain Shūsuke Amagai. Shuuichi knew little of this man.
"Well then, Steward Kumoi, calling this thing a *zanpakutō* seems… misplaced. I've never seen a zanpakutō that didn't revert to asauchi when its wielder died. Nor one that could accept more than one master."
He raised his blade toward Kumoi, a clear warning not to come closer.
Kumoi halted, playing along. "Whether you call it zanpakutō or not hardly matters. What matters is—you led us here deliberately. Why? Perhaps it's time you explained."
If he hadn't realized that Shuuichi had chosen this site on purpose, he wouldn't have lasted this long as the Kasumioji's steward.
"You're not worried I've already told Captain Shihōin Yoruichi everything?" Shuuichi asked evenly.
He knew the kind of opponent he faced. With an old fox like this, he couldn't let the man set the pace.
"And you're not worried I'll tell Captain Unohana that you spent your leave in Hueco Mundo, not the Human World?"
Of course Kumoi had done his homework. With a full day, he could peel Shuuichi's records inside out. Including that curious note: Unohana herself had recently gone to the 13th Division to ask after Shuuichi. Coincidence? Kumoi thought not.
Whether Shuuichi knew of it didn't matter. It was leverage.
And in fact, Shuuichi *did* know Unohana suspected him.
So his head began to ache. *This man has caught a scent too? Impossible… unless…*
When he looked at Kumoi again, the kanji "危" all but glowed red over the old man's head.
"Heh. Then let's sit down and talk properly."
He smothered the urge to cut Kumoi down. Killing the steward of the Kasumioji wasn't like killing nameless assassins. The fallout might outstrip killing a captain.
That didn't mean he couldn't. Just that it would be costly.
"Return the blade Raika, and I'll let you explain yourself," Kumoi ordered flatly, voice leaving no room for dissent.
Shuuichi smiled.
"Intimidation I can stomach. But press too far…" His voice sank, cold and empty. "I'm no saint either."
"Hadō 78: Zangerin (Cutting Flower Wheel)!"
He slashed down. A crescent of reiryoku tore forward, splitting the ground with gales of force.
"Trickery."
Kumoi thrust out a hand.
"Bakudō 81: Dankū (Splitting Void)!"
A massive reiryoku wall rose. The attack crashed uselessly against it, fading without even a blast.
"His reiatsu… already brushing captain-class," Shuuichi thought darkly.
That kind of power, combined with decades of experience, meant he couldn't win quickly. To beat him, he'd have to unleash everything—and then Kumoi *had* to die, or Shuuichi would leave another handle in his hands.
"Don't think killing a few hired blades gives you the right to strut," Kumoi sneered, floating above, eyes cold. "You've crossed the red line. Do you think yourself untouchable?"
He looked down at Shuuichi as one might at a rat. Even if he'd hidden some strength, without truly stepping into captain-class, he was nothing. And even if he had—against the weight of the Kasumioji, what choice did a gutter rat have but submission?
Normally, he'd be right. But Shuuichi had already tied himself to the thickest backing in a century.
"Impulse is rare… but I'll pay for mine today."
Kumoi caught the word *impulse*. Unease flickered through him.
"No… impossible. He's only a failed vice-captain. Even with secrets—"
The thought broke as crushing reiatsu pressed down, nearly solid. Kumoi's eyes went wide.
"You—you've reached captain—"
A spark cut him off.
"Hadō 4: Byakurai (White Lightning)!"
The bolt stunned him, muscles locking.
And Shuuichi's figure filled his vision.
"Advance, Heibing-sha! Command soldiers, master men!"
The emerald blade burst with white light, his zanpakutō's form gleaming in full release.
(End)
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