April, light rain.
South Rukongai, District 78.
Higashino Shuuichi looked at the two criminals now hemming him in front and back, a little helpless.
It wasn't that he didn't want to run anymore, but no matter how far he went, that dazzling reiatsu stayed the same distance away. Back in District 79, its owner had been behind him; now, in District 78, that person was ahead, blocking his path toward District 77.
Clearly, the other party had no intention of letting him leave so easily.
"Let's hope Unohana Retsu gets the message in time and comes to save me."
Higashino Shuuichi grimaced at the smugly grinning fat man in front of him.
He had just fired off the Kasumiooji family's prepared distress signal, but counting on them to save him was impossible. His only hope was that they would notify Unohana Retsu at once.
As for Aizen—Higashino Shuuichi could only laugh bitterly.
If Aizen would ever save him over something like this, he'd have to be Aizen's biological son. No, even then, probably not.
Aizen would just sneer, "Trash, you dare call yourself my son?"
"Run! You were running so fast before. Why not run now?"
The fat man licked greasy blood from the corner of his mouth, laughing.
"I've only killed one shinigami so far. Another was stolen by Maro. But now you're here, just in time—make it two for me!"
The square-faced man behind Higashino Shuuichi looked equally relaxed.
Higashino Shuuichi's retreat without fighting had boosted their confidence. To them, he was just a greenhorn shinigami, hardly worth taking seriously.
But Higashino Shuuichi forced himself calm.
There was no chance of escape now. He had to create the best fighting environment for himself.
First, those two in front of him had to be dealt with immediately. If the distant man joined the fight, even weak allies could make a difference at the worst moment.
The more crucial the battle, the less room there was for luck.
His short thoughts ended just as the two criminals finished their arrogant boasts.
Higashino Shuuichi drew a deep breath.
He had to end this fight before the distant figure could react.
"Advance, Heisha!"
His voice low, the Zanpakutō in his hands flared green, transforming into a deep green katana three feet long.
Then came the full release of his reiatsu.
At a moment of life and death, he couldn't care less whether Seireitei's laws forbade unauthorized shikai, or whether shikai supposedly required the Head Captain's permission.
"Zen Heisha, Chimō! Hadō #73, Fire—Sōren Sōkatsui!"
Flames ignited along Heisha, and Higashino Shuuichi stepped forward, slashing down. A torrent of fire, blue and red entwined, roared forth.
The fat criminal, a killer hardened in seas of corpses, only flinched for an instant at Higashino Shuuichi's sudden eruption of reiatsu. Then, with a bizarre rolling motion, he narrowly dodged the attack at the last second.
This only made him more arrogant. "Hahaha! So you're just some rookie shinigami captain? But you don't even wear the haori. Must be some noble's pampered brat!"
Higashino Shuuichi gave no reply.
That move hadn't been aimed at him anyway. With Higashino Shuuichi's current strength, if it had, there's no way that fat man—barely at a vice-captain's level—could have dodged.
In his senses, that dazzling reiatsu far away finally stirred.
Even someone of that overwhelming level had to respond to a shikai-boosted Sōren Sōkatsui.
But Higashino Shuuichi only needed five seconds. That was the limit he set for himself.
First second—turning, chanting: "Hadō #57, Raikōhō: Daichi Ten'yō!"
Second second—the ground split, lightning flashing, chunks of earth flying, arcs of electricity dancing.
Third second—Higashino Shuuichi rushed into his own storm, ignoring rocks tearing his flesh and leaving bloody gashes.
Fourth second—one curved slash took the fat man's head, his Zanpakutō's ability dissolving and recombining reishi.
Fifth second—the square-faced criminal, thrown airborne by the collapsing ground, hadn't even realized what was happening before Higashino Shuuichi spun and thrust, driving his blade through the man's throat.
In five seconds, two criminals with reiatsu at least vice-captain-class were annihilated, without even a chance to resist.
But it wasn't over. Higashino Shuuichi stared tensely toward the split sky where his Sōren Sōkatsui had torn through.
The slash had cut the world apart, rubble whirling everywhere.
If not for knowing Unohana Retsu was in the 4th Division right now, Higashino Shuuichi could have sworn that person was her.
Such a nearly world-cleaving strike.
Silently, he raised his Zanpakutō.
"Heisha, Taoyuan!"
One by one, Reishi Soldiers emerged, dispersing into hiding.
No cover? Cast Bakudō—Kukaku.
He held nothing back. In life and death, even if it cost every Reishi Soldier he had stockpiled over twenty years, it wasn't worth regret.
But the expected fury never came.
The distant figure showed no reaction at all to his companions' deaths.
For Higashino Shuuichi, that was no good sign.
It meant he faced a rational opponent—one with reiatsu comparable to Unohana Retsu.
"There goes my plan of baiting a mistake."
His mind raced.
Originally, he'd intended to enrage that person through killing his allies, forcing a slip, then exploiting it with his army of Reishi Soldiers.
But now he knew—he only had one choice: play the old stratagem of strategic depth.
He would trade space for time, throwing Reishi Soldiers into wave after wave of suicide interceptions, to buy himself distance.
Resolute, he wasted no more thought. Turning, he began his second escape, ordering his army forward in his mind.
But after only a few steps, the brief images fed back from instantly slaughtered Reishi Soldiers made him freeze.
"Why does it feel like I don't even need to run anymore?"
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