Controversy
Tenteikūra was a high-level Kidō spell that linked spiritual threads to multiple individuals, transmitting messages directly into their minds.
Those whose reiatsu wasn't captured heard nothing. But anyone caught in its net would feel it—a thread of energy dropping from the heavens and fastening itself at the back of the neck.
Aramaki Makizō instinctively looked up as a deep, commanding voice resonated inside his skull:
> "To the Captains of the Second and Eleventh Divisions, and to all stationed soldiers in the West Tenth District—"
Pah.
Something wet struck his cheek.
Makizō wiped his face with his palm. When he looked down, it was crimson. Blood.
"...?"
He turned his head left—only to find one of his squadmates already collapsed, headless, the neck mangled as though caved in by a blunt strike.
"Ugh—!"
He tried to shout, but when he spun toward his right, another comrade's severed head rolled to his feet.
"Ahh!"
Makizō screamed, stumbling backwards. The words of Tenteikūra meant nothing to him now. He turned to flee—
—but a blade pierced his chest. His torso was carved diagonally, nearly cleaved in two.
Behind him, his three remaining companions fell almost simultaneously, cut down without resistance.
A gust of death swept through the air.
Makizō gasped noisily, hands clutching his body in panic, checking himself frantically, as though expecting more wounds to appear. He trembled like a cornered animal, no trace of the Eleventh Division's vaunted "battle lust" in him.
For him, combat had never been joy. He had only been loud, brash, pretending at ferocity. Joining Division 11 had been his gravest mistake.
He had thought himself obsessed with fighting, that he could earn a name for himself among warriors.
But life under Zaraki's banner had quickly corrected him.
Not only the Captain, who treated battle as the very essence of existence, but even his subordinates fought like ravenous beasts gnawing raw flesh. Against such monsters, Makizō was no more than a timid rabbit.
He had often dreamed of transferring divisions, but without another Captain's notice or his own Captain's recommendation, it was impossible. He was trapped.
"I-I'm fine," he muttered to himself, patting his body again. Miraculously, the fatal blow had missed him. His heart thundered, but relief began to creep in.
Then, the Tenteikūra voice shifted:
> "...Assemble at Yone Village."
The spell dissipated.
Makizō hadn't heard the full message, only that final command. His pulse surged. He had no desire to remain here alone any longer.
He staggered to his feet, took two steps—and fell again, eyes fixed in horror on the severed head at his feet.
"Ahhh!"
He scrambled upright, sobbing, legs pumping desperately as he fled. His run was clumsy, graceless, but terror gave it speed.
He didn't stop until the poplars of Yone Village came into view, sunlight fractured by the branches. A crowd of Shinigami filled the clearing, and relief finally washed through him.
He darted toward the familiar uniforms of his squad.
"Makizō? What the hell happened to you?"
Ayasegawa Yumichika, Fifth Seat of the Eleventh, raised an eyebrow. Bloodied and disheveled, Makizō looked a sorry sight.
"I don't understand either!" Makizō babbled, clinging to him. "When the Tenteikūra message came, Arlong and the others—they were suddenly killed! Instantly! I never even saw the attacker!"
Yumichika frowned, instantly guessing the truth. "Hmph. You're lucky, brat. To cross paths with Shiraishi and still be standing… In just a short while, he's already killed over a hundred of our soldiers."
"A h-hundred?!" Makizō's jaw dropped.
Madarame Ikkaku snorted. "What's so shocking? If he had the strength to take down the Captain of the Twelfth Division, what's a hundred foot soldiers?"
"You're all insane," Makizō muttered, staring at them like they were monsters too. His fear only grew when he realized how wide the gulf was between himself and true Division 11 fighters.
"Where's Captain Zaraki?" he asked at last.
"Inside," Yumichika replied, pointing at a thatched hut on the village edge. "Discussing countermeasures with Captain Kyōraku and Captain Suì-Fēng."
Inside the small, dim hut, the atmosphere was taut.
"The Eleventh Division's lack of discipline is the root of this mess," Suì-Fēng said sharply, arms folded, her small frame radiating authority.
Zaraki Kenpachi tilted his head lazily, irritation in his one visible eye. "Discipline? Can it win you battles? Pointless. I don't waste time on crap like that."
"Both of you—enough."
Kyōraku Shunsui raised a hand, wearing his usual smile, though it held no warmth. "The losses speak for themselves. One hundred and three Eleventh Division soldiers dead. If we keep scattering our forces, we'll just keep feeding men to the slaughter."
Suì-Fēng narrowed her eyes. "Then what's your plan?"
"Wait," Shunsui said simply. "Yonemura seems to have ties to Shiraishi. Otherwise, he wouldn't have reacted so violently to the Eleventh Division's behavior. If we stay put, perhaps he'll approach."
It wasn't much of a plan. But it was all he had. When he cast Tenteikūra, he had deliberately let his reiatsu flare, knowing a man of Shiraishi's caliber would sense it.
And indeed, the killings had abruptly stopped. A sign that the message had reached him.
"He won't come." Suì-Fēng shook her head firmly. "You don't understand his nature. If you harm the villagers again, it will only guarantee his vengeance. And next time, it won't just be the Eleventh that pays the price."
"We have to try." Shunsui tilted his hat low, concealing his eyes. "A truce is worth the gamble."
It was the only way forward. Shiraishi's reiatsu was too well hidden, too impossible to track. Their best chance had already been squandered—thanks to Kurotsuchi Mayuri's reckless solo move two days ago.
"If you all retreat and leave me behind," Zaraki interrupted with a grin, "that guy'll come running soon enough."
"No." Suì-Fēng cut him off at once. "Leaving you unsupervised is more dangerous than Shiraishi himself."
"You—" Zaraki began, but a messenger's voice interrupted from outside:
"Captain Kyōraku! Akon, Third Seat of the Twelfth Division, reports an underground passage discovered—the criminal may be hiding there!"
Visit patreon.com/Akeyno to get 30+ chapters