Lifting his gaze to the skyful of fire, Higashino Shuuichi felt a strange déjà vu.
He remembered the day he returned from Hell and the real Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni took him into Muken to display his Shikai. Compared to that suffocating pressure, this "young Yamamoto" felt like hail from the heavens.
It hurt, but it wasn't fatal.
It did not inspire despair.
Nadegiri (Cleaving Stroke)!
Shuuichi cut once; the surging flames split cleanly down the middle.
"Taimatsu (Torch)!"
The young Yamamoto stamped on empty air, crushed down the skeletal arms trying to seize his ankles with raw reiatsu, then drew his blade. A tornadoing wall of flame howled toward Shuuichi.
If he were trapped inside it, those flames would not gutter out until they burned him to ash.
Dankū (Severing Void)!
A transparent reishi wall rose between them—but its power source came from the Musashi Kojirō gigai.
"How naïve. You think Kidō alone can block Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni's Taimatsu?"
From within the church, with the water curtain dispelled and half the nave blasted away to give a perfect view, the red-robed Johanse Nosavich sneered.
As expected, even a "young Yamamoto" wouldn't be stopped by a mere Dankū conjured through one of Shuuichi's oni-bound constructs.
The reishi pane didn't last a full second against the spinning blaze.
Of course Shuuichi knew that. The point wasn't to stop Taimatsu; it was to use the shattering lattice of Dankū to make an invisible bridge to the flames.
"Bakudō #63: Sajō Sabaku (Locking Bond)!"
"Bakudō #37: Tsuriboshi (Suspending Star)!"
Two spells fired at once—one from Oni: Musashi Kojirō, the other from Oni: Muguruma Kensei.
Using Tsuriboshi's woven net as boundary, the broken reishi of Dankū as bridge, and the iron chain of Sajō Sabaku as guide—
Oni: Musashi Kojirō accomplished the feat of leading the fire onto himself.
From afar, watching flame coil up the chain and swallow the construct in midair, Johanse Nosavich's eyes flickered.
"Kidō can be used like this?"
He wasn't the first to mutter that before Shuuichi's perverse tactics, and he wouldn't be the last.
While Oni: Musashi Kojirō drew Taimatsu, Shuuichi didn't idle.
Leaning on the mobility of his Sōjū Bankai (Dual Bankai), swift as a sonido, he slipped around the burning wall and faced the young Yamamoto head-on.
Bungetsugiri (Crescent Sever)!
Their Zanpakutō crashed together, reiatsu rippling out so hard it bled into Muguruma Kensei's battlefield and his opponent's. Both of those fighters had to withdraw in the opposite direction as they traded blows.
In Shuuichi's and the youth's locked gazes, sparks spat from Heisha—Shuuichi's blade—where the two edges scraped and hammered.
In the span of a few blinks, they'd already traded a dozen cuts in midair.
"Yakuryū (Flow Choke)!"
Shuuichi caught a hitch in the youth's motion; his empty left hand flipped from palm to fist and punched through. The young Yamamoto froze; a swath beneath his left chest caved in.
At that instant, back in the church, Johanse Nosavich pressed his right hand to the Bible in his left.
"Lord, have mercy upon your faithful."
The words fell—and the ruin Shuuichi had made in the boy's body closed as if it had never been.
What a top-tier healer…
Shuuichi's brow knit. In the heat of the fight he'd nearly forgotten: his earlier intel said four Fullbringers were present at the cathedral.
He'd already eliminated Satō Takeo. Add in this "young Yamamoto," who clearly wasn't a Fullbringer, and the mystery Fullbringer locked with Kensei—
Two left.
So those two in the church? The robed man had to be Johanse Nosavich. But the green-haired, eyes-shut man beside him, frail as a breeze—could that be the rōnin Yuki Seisui?
No. Shuuichi didn't buy that a swordsman who'd crushed all thirty-three dōjō in Osaka would look that weak.
If not, who was the green-haired man?
And where was Yuki Seisui?
A cold thought struck him: he'd made a mistake.
While he worked his angles, so did they.
They wouldn't gather so brazenly just to be netted… right?
They'd laid lines in Osaka this long and came unprepared? No chance.
Don't tell me… their target is Shiba Kaien?
The guess felt absurd—even as it settled into place.
No time to check. The young Yamamoto shoved Shuuichi a half-step back and gathered hideous reiatsu.
"Jōkaku Enjō (Fortress Blaze)!"
The crimson blade swept forward; endless fire closed like a giant hand and caged Shuuichi inside.
Try to smash straight out, and six-thousand-degree heat would chase him.
The youth dropped his blade; in the gray sea below, every skeletal arm that dared to rise ignited.
"Shakunetsu Jigoku (Scorching Hell)!"
Pillars of fire—dozens—thrust up to the sky, hemming Shuuichi in where Jōkaku Enjō held him fast.
The youth reversed his grip, drew and resheathed in one fluid motion.
"Burn!"
On the word, the pillars bent inward toward the center, merged into a tidal wall of flame, converged—and, with a world-splitting detonation, exploded.
Space itself seemed torn. Sun and moon winked out.
Everything before the youth became cinders.
"Is it over?"
Feeling the scope of the young Yamamoto's chain, the green-haired man doubted any Shinigami could survive it.
True enough: if it had been almost anyone else, there would only be one word—death.
Unfortunately for them, their opponent was Higashino Shuuichi.
Bankai: Akki Tenshin (Demon Entwines the Body) and the Soul King's nail fragment granted him a brief "invincibility," paid for with future time—an unlimited regeneration on loan.
Pure offense?
Heh.
In Sōjū Bankai, that was what he feared least.
Heihō Sogen (Art of War: Return to Source), Bankai—Shōri Zangatō (Smile-Hidden Blade)!
Young Yamamoto, I took your technique. Now—can you take your own?
The flames peeled back. Shuuichi hung in the air, unruffled, looking down like an emperor upon the youth below.
On the scorched earth, fire reared again.
Pillars punched for the sky.
Even the thoughtless "young Yamamoto" blinked.
This looked like… his technique?
But he'd already spent it…
The pillars converged; the youth watched himself swallowed by his own attack.
The same sequence—gather, explode—played out. The already charred ground suffered a second scouring.
This time the shockwave licked the church—and even farther off, Kensei's battlefield—though the latter fared better.
Not because they were farther, but because Kensei now hung nailed in a coffin, unable to resist.
He had lasted long enough to meet Shuuichi's expectations—by losing.
The sky cleared blue again.
Shuuichi had canceled Jigoku: Shokeikyoku (Hell: Execution Aria); keeping it up drained the "Kuniku (Pain Gambit)" phase of his Bankai far too quickly.
Below lay the young Yamamoto, body charred to charcoal.
He couldn't endure his own technique.
But he wasn't fighting alone.
"Lord, your faithful seeks your blessing!"
Holy light fell upon the youth. The carbonized body began knitting back together before the eye.
"You're a nuisance."
Fine—Shuuichi remembered the pain of an opponent with obscene sustain.
He flashed to Nosavich.
Bungetsugiri (Crescent Sever)!
The slash hit a water curtain that wrapped his blade.
"Lord, your faithful asks your protection!"
Nosavich intoned without hurry.
The brief stall was enough; the young Yamamoto charged again.
Given Shuuichi's position, he chose his signature cut.
Nadegiri (Cleaving Stroke)!
Shuuichi didn't evade. He took the strike head-on—and in the same beat his counter-slash landed, Heisha's tip kissing stone.
"The arrogant dragon, the foul land, the rage that can't be stayed; the fount from which dreams wake—wind, flame, ice, thunder, and earth—break forth through karma, return without hindrance; destroy all; all things to the origin.
Hadō #99: Goryūtenmetsu (Five Dragons of Destruction)!"
Dragons roared, wheeled, tore the heavens.
Because the youth's earlier chain had slaughtered most of Shuuichi's available oni, he had to chant fully himself.
More power—but worse effect.
Even at his current reiatsu, Goryūtenmetsu couldn't pierce Nosavich's warped defense.
And if Nosavich couldn't be solved—
The grating prayer resumed. Shuuichi glanced over; the young Yamamoto was on his feet again.
Farther off, the Fullbringer who had beaten Kensei was closing in.
"Not great."
He smiled, helpless.
He hadn't expected them to bring out a nuke like "young Yamamoto."
It looked easy on the surface—but to tank the chain he'd spent nearly all of his "Kuniku" loan.
He looked like he was at his peak; in truth, he was a bow drawn to breaking.
Once the Pain Gambit's debt ran dry, he would be a fish on the slab.
He didn't want to admit it, but he had one option left:
Retreat.
Nosavich seemed to read that in his smile. A fatherly warmth lit his face.
"You've grasped your position at last, Shinigami.
Convert to my church now, and perhaps I'll spare you."
"Convert… to you?"
"That's right. Soul Society has cast you out. Join us. We'll remake its order together."
Hearing the almost pliant tone, Nosavich waved for the other Fullbringer and the young Yamamoto to halt—offering Shuuichi a path, or the illusion of one.
What Shuuichi said next soured Nosavich's face at once.
"So that's it… Your power comes from the 'faithful' you offer your Lord, doesn't it?
The stronger and more numerous the flock, the longer your blessing lasts. Am I right?"
Watching Nosavich's expression change, Shuuichi knew he'd hit it.
He'd always preferred talky enemies; they leaked their weaknesses without knowing.
To try recruiting him under such an advantage—and with such irreconcilable aims? There had to be a catch.
Even so, that was as far as he could go. Knowing the weakness didn't mean he had the strength to exploit it now.
It hadn't been like with Satō Takeo; then, he'd been at full power.
"Kill him."
Abandoning the pitch, Nosavich didn't hesitate.
Shuuichi was already set to run.
A snap-cast Dankū cut him off from Kensei's victor; Nadegiri lashed out to stun the young Yamamoto before he could move.
The youth reacted, drew to cast Jōkaku Enjō again—
And nothing happened.
No flame spilled. No reiatsu surged. He could only watch as Shuuichi's slash carved half his body away.
"What—?"
Nosavich and the green-haired man spoke in the same breath.
Only Shuuichi lifted his eyes to the new silhouette far off, joy flaring in his chest.
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