One Slash to Annihilate Heaven and Earth
"...huff..."
When Shuuichi opened his eyes again, it was morning.
He found himself sitting up in bed—Rangiku on one side, Sayako on the other.
A dream?
No. Not a dream.
He could feel it: a warm current inside him that wasn't his own.
The Hōgyoku (Breakdown Sphere).
He'd already died twice here, in this world spun by the Hollow within him—and each time, the "infinite regeneration" he'd inherited from a fragment of the Soul King's fingernail hadn't triggered.
If not for Kisuke's Hōgyoku soothing things on the outside, he'd probably have been swallowed whole by his inner Hollow by now.
But that wasn't the point. The point was: both times he only knew how he died—never why.
That elevator that nothing could stop. That young man who walked through the door and could not be harmed no matter what he did.
All signs pointed the same way: the Hollow's power was a rule.
If Shuuichi couldn't identify that rule and was forced to "play" under it, there was only one path—death.
In this world, you deal with rules like that a few ways:
One—collide with a stronger rule. He didn't have that.
Two—crush the rule with overwhelming reiatsu (spiritual pressure). He couldn't do that either; his reiatsu was the same as the Hollow's.
Three—find a loophole or the method of unraveling. That was his one and only shot.
Fortunately, he wasn't fighting alone; he had a cheat that was nearly invincible.
He doubted his inner Hollow ever imagined he'd be this shameless.
Rules as strong as you like—so what?
He had infinite continues.
For the first time, he truly understood the "happiness" of the sinners in Hell—die and try again. Over and over.
On the third day, the subway derailed.
On the fourth, the bus crashed.
On the fifth, a bomb-wielding robber wandered into the complex and took out Shuuichi, the building, and everything in it.
And so it went—until the three hundred forty-ninth day, when patterns finally clicked into place.
First, every fatal incident was a premeditated crime.
Before each one, there was always a matching warning sign nearby.
On day one, the elevator: there'd been a maintenance notice on the wall—he'd missed it, still dazed and lost.
On day two, the night intruder: the young man he'd bumped in the convenience store, the one whose phone wallpaper he'd mistaken for a Rangiku pin-up—that was the very same man. He'd also failed to realize Rangiku was "his girlfriend" here, and the screen wasn't an anime pic at all, but her photo.
It went on like that. Some hints were buried; some looked like pretty little coincidences you'd never pocket in your mind.
But without exception, each one offered motive or cause for what would later kill him.
Second, once an "incident" began, no matter what he tried, the outcome was almost always the same—death.
The only two times he dodged it, he broke the rules with brute force—stacked Dual Bankai (Final Release) and steamrolled. The price? Afterward, as soon as he let go of Dual Bankai, he was a lamb for the slaughter for days.
The core problem never changed.
In other words, by current gains, he was still a long way from conquering the Hollow inside.
But after so long under the knife, his eye for detail and memory for images had become monstrous. Everything that happened around him slotted neatly into his memory palace; the moment something moved, he could pull the tiles and analyze.
Another fair day. Blue sky without a cloud.
After many detours, Shuuichi reached the edge of this world.
The street just… stopped at an invisible wall. People walked in from beyond it; people walked out from within. But he was blocked here.
He halted, a smile tugging at his lip.
"Hey—did you know?
You should thank yourself. Because of you, I learned that limits can be forced out. Before this, I never imagined my memory could go this far."
No answer. He looked like a madman talking to air.
But he knew that wasn't the case.
"Honestly, I can't blame you. If I didn't have infinite respawns, you wouldn't need to expand the world again and again just to keep feeding me into your traps.
If it were me, I'd smash it and rebuild a brand-new world each time. That'd be better than what you're doing now."
Still just his voice. Yet people had begun to stare.
"If I'm right, every premeditated crime needs prep time, yeah?
From the moment you 'let' me see the warning to the moment it happens—there has to be a process.
Otherwise I wouldn't have seen so many danger flags with none of them popping. That's not your style."
More eyes turned.
But Shuuichi's gaze never left the courier on the e-bike in the gray uniform.
"And I'll go bolder. Each time a crime occurs, there has to be a prime mover. And that mover can only be you. Right?"
Time stopped.
Pedestrians, drivers, people behind windows—every gaze swung to Shuuichi.
He laughed. He'd nailed it.
The Hollow born from him hadn't inherited his patience and restraint; not even a year in, and because it couldn't finish him, its surface had cracked.
"Day one—the building guard who herded me into the elevator, still cussing as the doors closed.
Day two—the landlord's partner who brought the young man to my door and unlocked it for him.
A new face every time—that's hard to guard against. But this time you made a fatal mistake.
You shouldn't have followed me all the way—even at a distance."
He sighed.
A SWAT van burst from the corner.
Shuuichi knew why: the "courier" had overheard a passerby sigh that someone had just robbed a bank. Now the robber appeared, which meant Shuuichi's life here had reached its next end.
And he was pleased. Today he'd pinned down more of the Hollow's rules.
"Heisha—Bankai (Final Release)! Kuniku (Bitter Flesh)! Jujō Kaika (Flowers Bloom on the Tree)!
Jigoku no himei, tsumi no funshin, mujin no kutsū, mushi no unmei—Sōjū Bankai, Akki Tenshin (Dual Bankai, Demon Wraith Enshroud)!"
In an instant he chained every layer he could wield. Petty? Maybe. He wanted the Hollow that had tortured him nearly a year to learn.
"Bakudō no 99: Kin (Seal)."
Softly spoken.
The "courier"—panicking now that its mask had slipped—tried to bolt. Shuuichi bound it where it stood. Even without full chant, with his current output, the exposed Hollow wasn't breaking that seal.
Then endless reiatsu gathered along his blade.
"Nadegiri (Clean Slice)!"
One stroke to unmake heaven and earth.
The world shattered.
Darkness fell, silent and complete.
Feeling new power pooling inside him, Shuuichi understood—and, smiling, let sleep take him.
Shuusuke Hounded by Girls
Shuuichi woke to a plush down mattress—soft, indulgent.
He wasn't in that postmodern shoebox of an apartment anymore. He was back.
But when he settled his mind and probed his power, the Hollow energy wasn't as bountiful as he'd hoped. It felt… just enough to shift freely between Shinigami and Hollow forms, still a long way from the late-stage mastery where someone like Kaname could jump straight to Resurrección (Return to Blade).
Fair, when he thought about it. In his inner world he'd only wrestled down one specific trick from the Hollow inside him. The rest of its kit—the parts that should mirror his own—he hadn't even sampled yet.
In other words, he hadn't conquered the Hollow—he'd only won partial usage rights.
Good enough for now.
Without a "system" to hand him instant proficiency, even the baseline Hollow techniques—Sonído (Sound Step), Cero (Hollow Flash), and so on—would take time to drill until they flowed like his Zanjutsu, Hakuda, Hohō, and Kidō.
Sometimes a smaller bite is better.
More importantly, the bout ended in his win. He'd found the counter to that Hollow's rule. Next time there'd be no mystery—only cleanup.
Total subjugation would be a matter of time.
In a very good mood, he touched his face. The mask that used to cling there was gone—subsumed now that he'd seized control.
"Shuuichi-kun, you're awake?!"
A nightingale's voice—so familiar it tugged a smile. While he was trapped inside himself, she'd murmured at his bedside every night.
"Sayako?"
He said her name easily, warmly—habit forged over hundreds of days.
"Mm~"
She stepped in with a warm towel, eyes folding into crescent moons.
"How are you here?"
"Because you promised, Shuuichi-kun—help me channel Hell's power.
Before, my body was too weak to move. But now that you've drawn that power to yourself, I'm much better.
So I thought… maybe I could come and help a little…"
She ducked her head, fingers fretting the hem of her shirt, stealing a glance up through her lashes.
"You won't be mad… will you?"
"How could I?"
He laughed, shook his head. He didn't bother asking whether her coming would stir Soul Society's hornet's nest.
It didn't matter.
A house like the Kabuma clan—five great families in name but long absent from politics, fading by the year—only kept its title by courtesy. Behind the screen, plenty would welcome Sayako leaving, even "defecting" like Yoruichi. Then they could carve up what little authority Kabuma still held.
As for how she found this place—he didn't need to ask.
Seyabasa was the perfect lodestar.
He dressed and was about to step out when Sayako brought over a doll that looked exactly like him.
More precisely—one of Kisuke's portable gigai (reishi shell).
"If you're going out, Shuuichi-kun… better put this on."
Her cheeks blushed pink; he'd unconsciously teased her just now with habits honed in those long inner-world days.
"This is…?"
Caution was second nature. This wasn't his turf; who knew what ears were in the walls.
"Kisuke-kun made it just for you—a portable gigai. Wear it and people in the Living World can see you, and your reiatsu won't ping Soul Society's monitors.
That way it's safer for you to move around."
"I can suppress my reiatsu and keep it from leaking at all."
He took the gigai, still a bit reluctant.
"Best to wear it anyway, Shuuichi-kun. You used to visit the Living World a lot, right? Then you know—some humans can see us when we're just reishi."
A black cat hopped through the window. No need to ask—Yoruichi.
"Oh, and congrats. You're the second Shinigami to fully control Hollowfication~"
Seeing his mask already gone the moment he woke surprised her—but pleased her more.
"The second?"
He didn't think taking nearly a year to learn to toggle forms was brag-worthy, but the word second scratched something male and stubborn inside him.
"First was the former Ninth's fukutaichō—Mashiro. She woke half a year ago and only needed three months to get the Hollow under heel. She can switch freely between Shinigami and Hollow now," Sayako explained.
So she'd been here a while.
"Mashiro, huh."
No surprise. In the original tale, she adapted fastest of the entire Visored crew—fifteen hours straight in Hollow state when the rest were still training timers.
That's talent. No sense being salty about it.
He slid into the gigai—startled by how good it felt. Born from the same core tech that helped Kirio ascend to Zero Division—no wonder. Silky, seamless; aside from not letting him absorb reishi from the environment, it felt invisible.
Outside lay a broad stone street—much like when they'd first arrived a year ago. Behind the house, a three-meter creek flickered with leaping fish. Below, Tessai—down to a sleeveless undershirt—was offloading bulky goods from a cart.
"What's Tessai doing?"
"Working," Yoruichi purred from his shoulder. "We're living in the Living World. If we 'own' a house but never show our faces, people get suspicious."
"And the furniture in your room?" Sayako added sweetly. "Shūsuke-kun and Rangiku-san earned that money."
"Mostly Shūsuke," Yoruichi shot back without mercy. "Rangiku? She 'worked' a few days and spent her pay on sake."
Speak of the devil—Shūsuke turned the corner, and a young woman walked beside him.
Not Rangiku—that was obvious at a glance. (Wrong silhouette. …Wrong face.)
Petite frame, short ash-gray hair, a chest as flat as Soi Fon's—she did look a bit like Soi Fon.
"Satomi-san, I already told you—I just happened to pass by. Those rōnin were hassling you, so I stepped in. I never expected you to, um… repay me with your body. You don't have to keep following me."
Shūsuke looked honestly pained.
"Mm-hmm, I know, Shūsuke-kun. But I want to repay you. Please let me help you—cooking, laundry, even warming your bed… anything~"
She ducked her face, cheeks rosy.
Shūsuke didn't catch a hint. He was only fretting about the tasks his trading house had set him—Satomi Nagasawa[1]'s clinginess had tanked his productivity, and tomorrow's paycheck would pay the price.
Then he glanced up toward home—and lit up.
Because on the second-floor balcony stood the person he'd prayed would wake—Shuuichi-sama.
He abandoned the girl and sprinted for the house. Up the stairs in a blur—
"Shuuichi-sama! You're awake!"
He couldn't bottle his joy.
"Mm. You've worked hard, Shūsuke~"
Sayako had just told Shuuichi what Shūsuke had done these months—he deserved the praise.
"It wasn't hard at all, Shuuichi-sama! I'm just so glad you're back!"
He beamed like a kid. To Shuuichi, he was a kid.
"So—who's the girl by your side?"
No point marinating in reunion warmth; Shuuichi asked what mattered.
Years of training in that inner world had honed his eye; one glance at the girl when Shūsuke left her, the tiny flash of displeasure in her eyes—there was a thread here.
"Do you mean Nagasawa Satomi?"
Shūsuke followed his gaze and quickly explained what had happened.
"So, short version: you went to collect on your trading firm's accounts, found Satomi cornered by some rōnin with bad intentions, drove them off, and even lent her your coat when her clothes were torn—right?"
"Yes, Shuuichi-sama. Is… there a problem?"
For all his straightness, he wasn't clueless. If Shuuichi repeated the story, there might be a catch.
"Not exactly a problem. On the face of it, everything checks out. Hero saves beauty; beauty offers herself in thanks. Classic…"
He said it, and Sayako couldn't help a tiny "pfft."
Yoruichi cocked her head. "What's funny, Sayako-san?"
Flushed again, Sayako pressed her fingers to her lips. "Ah—Shuuichi-kun once told me stories. Most go just like this: heroine in peril, hero descends, bad guys routed, heroine falls in love, and then—happily ever after."
"Ehh~ Shuuichi-kun, that's your kink?" Yoruichi's grin turned wicked.
Yes, a cat can make that face. Use your imagination.
"Ahem… why don't we go down? Satomi-san doesn't look like she's leaving anytime soon. Even if she does want to pledge herself, we—responsible adults—should vet her for Shūsuke, right?"
Perfect bait. Bored out of her skull in the Living World, Yoruichi perked right up and sprang from Shuuichi's shoulder to Shūsuke's floofy, slightly wavy hair.
"Absolutely—no time like the present. Shūsuke-kun, let's go meet your not-yet-fiancée!"
"Shuuichi-sama, Yoruichi-sama—truly, I don't have any thoughts about Satomi-san…"
He still didn't see the web.
"Relax, Shūsuke. We mean well. But letting a girl dog your steps like this isn't sustainable, is it?
And this place isn't exactly suitable for outsiders."
Before he could protest again, Shuuichi was already heading downstairs.
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[1] Be careful if you google her name, NSFW