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High above the dome—
The moment Kenpachi Zaraki swung Nozarashi, time itself seemed to freeze. It was like the entire world held its breath, every gaze locked onto him.
Right on cue, the background music kicked in.
Explosive drums thundered in sync with Zaraki's movements, each beat shaking the air.
Nozarashi's massive blade blotted out the sun, cutting off all light behind it. The camera focus snapped into place at that exact moment.
And so—
Under a sky stripped of sunlight, the only thing anyone could see was the gleam of Nozarashi's monstrous edge… and the meteor split cleanly in half.
The visual impact hit like a bomb.
…
"Too cool!!!"
"Captain Zaraki actually cut a star in half with one strike! He saved everyone! He saved the whole Soul Society! He's a hero of the Thirteen Court Guard Squads!!!"
Inside Squad Two's barracks—
Ōmaeda's face was bright red as he yelled, his three-hundred-pound body bouncing up and down in excitement. The floorboards nearly gave out beneath him.
Beside him, Soi Fon, who normally would've been scolding him already, stared with wide, stunned eyes.
"That's terrifying… Zaraki Kenpachi… he really is a monster beyond reason."
"Don't tell me… power really is the one true path, not speed?"
Looking at the meteor remains—cleanly bisected by that golden slash—Soi Fon's expression grew unfocused.
She fell into yet another spiral of self-doubt.
If she were the one up there… even with her unmatched shunpo, she'd probably pass out from the burning atmosphere before she even got close.
And even—
Even if she used her Bankai, Jakuhō Raikōben… a literal "nuclear bomb" of a trump card…
It still probably wouldn't break the meteor.
Meanwhile.
In Squad Thirteen—
"This is insane. Captain Zaraki is full of surprises."
Shunsui Kyōraku, in his pink floral kimono, stared blankly at the screen. His mouth hung open before he finally managed to squeeze out a sentence.
Across from him, Ukitake was exactly the same.
Normally he looked like he belonged in a hospital bed, but now his face wasn't pale at all. A faint flush of excitement colored his cheeks, and even the teacup in his hands looked like it might crack from how tightly he held it.
It wasn't hard to imagine how the two century-old captains were feeling.
The Human World.
Abandoned warehouse outside Karakura Town—
"Holy shit!!!"
"This Zaraki guy is completely out of his damn mind! How the hell—no, seriously—how the hell is a Shinigami supposed to do something like that?!"
Unlike the graceful, composed captains, the Visoreds—who'd spent years living in the Human World—completely lost their cool.
A meteor that big, cut in half just like that?
Ridiculous! Where did he get the confidence for that?!
The truth was…
"Losing their cool" wasn't quite accurate.
What the Visoreds felt most was envy.
Deep, bone-deep envy.
Everyone has a hero fantasy tucked somewhere inside. Everyone wants to save the world at least once.
But of all people… it had to be him—a battle-crazed lunatic—who got to do it.
That was what truly hurt.
Squad One.
"Captain-Commander, you can relax a little now, right?"
Only after confirming the meteor was completely destroyed—no longer any threat to the Soul Society—did Sasakibe Shunsui let out a heavy sigh of relief.
He turned and smiled respectfully at Yamamoto Genryūsai.
Just minutes ago, before Zaraki struck, the Commander had been weighed down by the fear that the Thousand-Year Blood War might repeat itself.
But thankfully—
Zaraki stepped up at the perfect moment.
That single strike with Nozarashi didn't just cut a meteor. It sliced through the Commander's heavy worries.
"Haa…"
Yamamoto didn't answer directly, but the deep breath he exhaled said enough.
His nerves had been tight as steel wires the whole time, consumed by the Soul Society's potential doom.
Only when he personally witnessed Zaraki split a star did his heart finally settle.
The shaken look in his eyes burned away, replaced with torch-bright determination.
"Thanks to Zaraki," he admitted, "the old man has found hope again."
Yes.
That eternal image of a star-shattering strike poured pure strength into his spirit.
The Commander now firmly believed that with proper preparation, the Gotei 13 would stop the pure-blood Quincies if they ever tried to rise again.
Squad Eleven.
"Whoa, that was insane! Kenny, your coolness stat is off the charts!"
As Zaraki's number one fan, Yachiru cheered wildly, her little white hands clapping nonstop.
"Yeah! My blood's boiling! I wish I could've been the one to cut that star!"
Ikkaku—despite being bald—had every hair on his body standing on end. His fingers clenched his zanpakutō tight as he trembled with excitement.
"With this video out there… I bet tons of people will try to join the Combat Division."
Ayasegawa Yumichika smiled proudly.
Squad Eleven had always been one of the most popular squads—partly because of its battle-centric philosophy, but mostly because Zaraki's chaotic charisma pulled people in like gravity.
And now?
They could slap a new slogan on their recruitment posters:
Want to be a hero? Don't hesitate—join the Combat Division!One day you might shine like Captain Zaraki and become a global superstar!
Hueco Mundo.
Silent. Dead still.
The palace was lifeless—like sound itself had been erased.
After shock upon shock, the Arrancar were numb. Utterly, completely numb.
No more questioning.
No more gasps.
Just empty despair from an overwhelming gap in strength.
"…Sigh."
Starrk let out a long, weary breath.
He looked like he'd aged a hundred years in a single night. His usually lazy middle-aged expression was cast in shadow.
With a dead-inside tone, he muttered, "So… what do you guys think about just giving up? Honestly, every Shinigami we've seen is crazier than the last. If we invade the Soul Society at this point, we're just lining up to die."
As the Primera Espada, he really shouldn't be the one saying this.
And normally, with Starrk's personality, he never would've.
But Zaraki's stunt was too much. Too overwhelming. Too ridiculous.
Even Starrk's soul tapped out.
Silence.
No one responded.
Even Baraggan, always the most arrogant one in the room, sat like he'd fallen into a deep, existential depression.
Because the truth was…
Starrk wasn't wrong.
Giving up wasn't shameful. It was sensible.
Staying in Hueco Mundo, sunbathing under their fake sky, minding their own business—life wasn't that bad.
Why bother provoking Shinigami?
If Lord Aizen wanted to die, sure, go ahead.
But the Arrancar?
They'd very much like to stay alive a few more years.
"..."
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