"Good boy—what a sweet kid."
Cole scrubbed Yushiro's hair with both hands, then cheerfully produced a small bag. "Here. Big Brother Cole's treat—konpeitō."
He'd originally bought the golden sugar for Yachiru; it was her favorite. Unfortunately, after wandering off with Kenpachi, she'd been "lost" for days—rumor said she was still stuck somewhere inside the freshly rebuilt Gotei 13.
Yushiro eyed the sparkling candy, hesitated, and mumbled, "I don't eat… cheap things."
As head of the Shihōin, he could have anything he wanted by tomorrow morning. Common sweets rarely even reached his table.
"Hm?"
Cole's eyes went sharp.
Bad habit. The stink of noble arrogance—on a kid. Time to fix that.
Yushiro flinched, snatched the bag, and stuffed a candy into his mouth with watery eyes. "I-I'll eat it—just don't hit me. If Sister comes back, she'll be super mad…"
Crack!
He yelped and clutched his head. "Why hit me again!?"
Cole shook out his fist, smug. "Don't try scaring me with Yoruichi. I'm the one who bullies Yoruichi."
"Liar!"
Yushiro puffed up, courage returning. "Sister would never let you! She's the strongest in the world—even Seireitei's captains can't beat her!"
"Why would I lie?"
Cole thumped his chest, proud. "Back in the World of the Living, I pinned your sister to the ground and had my way with—she couldn't even get ten words out."
Nanao blinked, impressed despite herself. She hadn't expected this human boy to have "trained" the former Goddess of Flash so thoroughly.
Rukia and Soi fong, however, both wore matching deadpan lines.
Technically not a lie. But wow, what a way to tell it.
Yoruichi had been in cat form. He'd fed her catnip and "bullied" her for hours. Words? Not so much. Constant meowing, though.
Yushiro burst into hiccuping sobs and hammered Cole's thigh with tiny fists. "Sister would never let you bully her! She's super strong—she beats me every time!"
Cole's temple twitched. Being punched by a crying "boy-girl" felt… wrong.
Still, he got it now—why Yushiro turned out delicate and soft-spoken. Grow up under a boisterous, larger-than-life sister and you couldn't help but idolize her—and copy her a little. Add a lifetime on the back foot, and you never quite grow a man's edge.
Cole thought for a few seconds, then swung the golden staff. One light tap.
Boom.
The street caved into a giant crater, the thunderclap echoing down the rows of mansions. Yushiro's crying cut off at once; he clapped both hands over his mouth, staring at the sixteen-ish "villain" in horror.
"Men don't cry over everything."
Cole let the staff sigh up a gust. "If your sister never taught you this, I will. Watch how a man does things."
He strode forward in big, easy steps. "Keep up."
Yushiro stared at his back, hesitated for several seconds, then trailed after him, small and aggrieved. The three girls traded baffled looks and followed too.
Weren't they here to secretly siphon reiryoku?
Since when did kidnapping the clan head become part of the plan?
Wasn't he afraid Yoruichi would come back and murder him?
And so, as Cole walked, buildings kept vanishing into his palm. Yushiro's eyes watered again. A villain was wrecking his house—and the "useless head" could only watch, too scared to stop him.
The commotion soon drew Shihōin nobles. One glimpse of Cole and their fury spiked—this human brat again, demolishing the estate a second time… and making their clan head cry.
"A mere human shinigami, spitting on noble pride…"
"Even if Lady Yoruichi returns, we won't spare him this time!"
"Let him learn—the Four Great Houses are untouchable in Seireitei!"
"Just kill him. He's only a lowly human…"
They closed in, shouting. Many others stormed off—fetching "weapons," by the look of it.
Soi fong's stomach knotted. She tugged Cole's sleeve and whispered, "Enough. Keep pushing and this turns ugly—don't forget the other three houses."
Cole didn't look back. "Those who fled when danger came—what right do they have to make me retreat?"
Color climbed Yushiro's cheeks. His head drooped with shame. He remembered the Zanpakuto rebellion—how, once several captains fell, the nobles ran for the Rukongai without a second thought. He'd wanted to help, but the elders pulled him away.
Before long, the nobles returned, predatory eyes fixed on the black-haired boy. Their hands held an assortment of strange gear—bandages, blades, short knives, long needles… and artifacts Cole recognized.
A wooden shield—the "Heaven-Seal Armament."
Bone-white wings—"Heaven-Tread Splendor."
At their front, a cocky young noble twirled a long white bandage and sneered, "Beat two zanpakuto and you think you're invincible?"
Cole stopped, one brow up. "And?"
The noble snapped his bandage; it whipped through the air like a pale serpent, unspooling across the sky to coil round Cole's golden staff. It slithered along the length, etching white tracery over gold.
Cole didn't resist. He tested the weight with an amused swing. "And this? Another sacred tool?"
"Indeed," the youth said coldly. "Spirit-Sealing Bandage. Once it binds a zanpakuto, release becomes impossible. Without his blade, a shinigami is no better than trash."
"Ohhh."
Cole recalled where he'd seen it—at the Senzaikyū gate during Ichigo's invasion. Yoruichi had used this very bandage to seal Senbonzakura and yank Byakuya out of "untouchable."
"Sealing, huh? Bold name—sealing a blade's spirit. But can it really seal my spirit pressure?"
A tiny crease appeared between the noble's brows.
Then his face drained.
A tide of blue reiryoku rose around Cole, drenching him like an abyssal ocean. It burned like pale flame, thick as liquid glass, pressure pressing in from all directions until lungs refused to work.
Weaker attendants toppled like felled trees, mouths gaping, eyes bulging—no breath to be found.
Rukia, Nanao, and Soi fong were stunned. Nanao went a shade too white and leaned against Rukia, staring at Cole's back. "H-he's already… this strong?"
No attack—just pressure—and people suffocated. That was Captain-Commander territory.
Rukia swallowed. "I don't know… but it feels close to the Commander's reiryoku."
"So strong… I can feel it crushing me…"
Soi fong stared, shaken. If this were truly the Commander's pressure, Nanao wouldn't even be speaking. That thousand-year monster… and Cole was sixteen.
Sixteen.
The number alone stole her breath.
Cole glanced back with a sun-bright grin. "Pretty strong now, right?"
He'd spent so long fighting captain-class foes that flaring reiryoku rarely mattered. Only now did he realize—pure pressure was the perfect mook-deleter. More oppressive than Conqueror's Haki back in the Grand Line. Whole ranks, deleted in seconds.
Rukia's awe evaporated in an instant. She ground her teeth. "Idiot! Trying to crush me, too!?"
If she hadn't awakened bankai, this wave would have knocked her cold. Soi fong added sourly, "Brat, pull it back—or you'll squish Yushiro flat."
Cole blinked and looked down. The "boy-girl" lay spread-eagled, face crimson, limbs twitching, struggling for air—somehow looking even more feminine like that.
He reeled his pressure in. Yushiro gulped a huge breath and stared up at him with wounded eyes, on the verge of tears again. Sixteen. The boy was sixteen—and had nearly stolen his breath away by standing there.
Cole coughed, soothed Yushiro twice, then turned to the bandage-wielding noble with a smile. "Spirit-Sealing, huh? Looks like it didn't seal anything."
He lifted the staff.
The white bandage had shredded under the surge, fluttering away in ragged strips—like mourning cloth.
He'd felt the trick of it now. The bandage was like Senjumaru Shutara's garments—woven to drink reiryoku. But his flow was too vast. It simply couldn't keep up.
Thinking of Senjumaru, he tilted his head. "This 'artifact' of yours—don't tell me it was woven by Senjumaru Shutara?"
If so… a little embarrassing for the artifact's brand.
But the young noble was beyond answering. Terror cracked his composure; he shrieked and bolted, not even bothering to reel in the torn bandage. Only after sprinting several thousand meters did he stop, panting, and glance back—safe, for the moment.
Cole chuckled, remembering something Aizen had once said. He called out, voice pleasant, "Distance matters only when opponents are equals."
"Between you and me—distance means nothing."
The noble's pupils blew wide. In the next heartbeat, the black-haired boy stood before him—across nearly a kilometer, as if the world had skipped a frame.
Cole set his right palm lightly to the man's chest. "See?"
"I can touch—your heart—right now."
The noble howled, face cracking with despair. He whirled to flee—too late. Power hammered his sternum.
Boom.
He shot backward and smashed through a rock garden. Stone erupted into dust; fragments pattered down like rain. The noble lay in the rubble, blood on his lips, five clear marks stamped into his chest—out cold.
The rest went paper-pale, hands trembling so hard their artifacts nearly slipped free.
"M-monster…"
They stared at the boy as if he were a calamity. They'd fled Seireitei during the rebellion, missing the scale of his power… assuming he was a "lowly human shinigami."
They were wrong.
He even dared the ultimate blasphemy—laying hands on nobles.
Cole smiled at their horrified faces. "Next…"
"Show me what your artifacts can do."
(End of Chapter)
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