The streets of Seireitei lay in ruins—shattered walls, toppled eaves, cries everywhere.
Through the eyes of his reishi constructs, Shuuichi saw the captains who'd been contained in Central 46 break free.
It had been less than an hour since Shuuichi destroyed the first Hollowfied Shinigami's Bakkōtō (Parasitic Zanpakutō).
But half the nobles were already dead or wounded, and among those Shinigami in the Gotei 13 who could still resist, at least twenty percent had fallen.
None of this mattered to Aizen.
The thing he most wanted to see hadn't appeared.
"Still sitting lofty and above it all, ignoring Soul Society's suffering?"
Outside the Twelfth Division, Aizen lifted his gaze toward the seemingly empty sky over Seireitei.
Elsewhere, Shuuichi knew the Kasumiooji chaos he'd orchestrated was reaching its end.
Under his control, the constructs quietly coordinated with seated officers, cutting down the Hollowfied Shinigami and packing up their Bakkōtō to carry away.
All of it moved with a few thoughts.
"I may not be able to save your father. In fact, as far as I know, no one in Soul Society right now has the power to bring him back."
Shuuichi shook his head to Shūsuke with genuine regret.
"How… how can that be…"
The hope that had just sparked in Shūsuke was snuffed out at once.
Truthfully, by Shuuichi's reckoning, there were a few who could: Aizen, Kisuke—each held an incomplete Hōgyoku; with that power, saving a Hollowfied Shinigami who wasn't even captain class would be easy.
There were two more: the monk in the Royal Guard might manage it—let Qin'yue die, then "re-summon" him; simple for him. And Kirinji, the "Hot Spring Demon," likely could as well.
But none of the four would lift a finger for an ordinary Shinigami like Qin'yue.
So in a sense, Shuuichi wasn't lying to Shūsuke.
Watching Shūsuke's vacant, devastated stare, Shuuichi sank into a crouch as if deeply moved, set his left hand on the boy's shoulder, guilt clouding his eyes.
"I'm sorry, kid. Ten years ago I saw it with my own eyes—your father infiltrating the Kasumiooji and getting discovered. I knew what they did to him—the inhuman experiments."
"I couldn't do anything. I could only watch them walk to this point…"
"Why? Tell me why you couldn't stop it. With your strength… you should have saved my father!"
Shūsuke raised his tear-bright eyes to meet Shuuichi's.
Shuuichi's lips worked—reluctant, pained. But seeing the determination there, he sighed.
"Because they're nobles. Even if I saw it, I couldn't strike on the spot.
Because they're nobles, even the Captain-Commander could only tell me to stand down.
I hate it too. But that's the absurd, laughable reality."
"Do you know how many times I've asked myself if I should keep going like this…"
Grief roughened his voice. He glanced at Qin'yue—still pinned hard by Hyappō Rankan (Bakudō #62, Hundred Steps Fence)—and seemed to age on the spot.
"Go, kid. See your father one last time. It's the last thing I can do for you two."
"Shinigami-sama…"
Shūsuke looked up at Shuuichi. In that moment, the man's figure loomed tall.
No—this wasn't his fault. He'd done enough. Blame the nobles who treated Shinigami lives like weeds.
Blame the so-called strongest Shinigami—the Captain-Commander—who commanded all these troops, yet in the end couldn't even protect the subordinate he'd trusted so much… Shūsuke's father.
Rage burned in Shūsuke hotter than ever before.
He walked to his father, who had lost all reason and was sliding deeper into Hollowfication, howling endlessly.
Shūsuke didn't flinch. He raised his right hand and wiped the two faint tear tracks on the mask on his father's face.
For a heartbeat, the frenzy in Qin'yue eased, as if he felt something.
"I'll avenge you, Father. I swear it."
Staring into the black hollows of the eyes behind the mask, Shūsuke stood.
He drew a long breath—as if finishing a final farewell in his heart—then turned and nodded to Shuuichi in the distance.
"Please, give my father peace."
Shuuichi said nothing, only nodded, and walked toward Qin'yue. As he and Shūsuke passed shoulders, he murmured low enough for only the boy to hear:
"As you wish."
Eyes closed. Tears fell.
Shūsuke stopped in his tracks.
Behind him came Shuuichi's voice:
"Stroke-slash."
No flourish. One clean cut—an end to a pitiful father's tragic life.
Just as Shūsuke had asked: a swift release.
Afterward, Shuuichi returned to Shūsuke's side. Gin, who had been farther off, had already come close.
"I'm sorry about your father. If you need anything, come find me. I'm the current Fourth Division vice-captain, Shuuichi. I can help in a lot of ways."
Guilt still shaded his face.
This time, Shūsuke didn't hesitate. He knelt, voice solemn and unshakable.
"Shuuichi-sama, I want to grow strong. I want to become a captain."
He held more inside.
He would judge those loathsome nobles.
He would kick that ossified "strongest Shinigami" out of the Captain-Commander's seat.
Because to him, only this gentle, supremely kind Shuuichi deserved that chair.
Only Shuuichi could lead Soul Society to a better future.
But he couldn't tell Shuuichi that.
Otherwise, kind Shuuichi might try to talk him down "for the greater good."
So Shūsuke swore in silence:
From now on, the filthy things that would wound you—I'll be the one to erase them.
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