"What is that!?"
"Magma!?"
"Why is magma suddenly falling from the sky!?"
"Wait—look west! Did a volcano just erupt!?"
Countless shinigami stared up at the rain of molten rock, their scalps tingling. The magma glowed red-hot, like freshly liquefied lava—who knew how many thousands of degrees. Wherever it struck, the ground itself melted. If that landed on a person, it'd take a whole slab of flesh with it.
Following someone's shout, everyone turned toward the mountain glowing a blinding crimson.
It really was red—an entire mountainside scorched scarlet, as if on the verge of melting, more a blazing lighthouse than a mountain. Even to the naked eye, the heat was terrifying—almost like it was nearing the surface temperature of the sun.
At the mountaintop, something blew a hole straight through with sheer pressure. A pillar of fire speared the clouds—like a flaming column piercing heaven and earth. The heat pouring out of it was so intense that even the First Division, far off who-knows-how-many leagues away, felt it clearly. All of Seireitei seemed to turn stifling.
Cole, in the middle of hammering on the Shichikyo Ken (Seven-Mirror Sword), froze and glanced at the sky-splitting inferno. "No way… that spiritual pressure—two old geezers!?"
He could feel it unmistakably. Inside that sky-reaching blaze, two surges of Yamamoto Genryusai's reiatsu were raging upward.
"Impossible!" Byakuya's face changed. He snapped his gaze toward the heaving white mass nearby. "Muramasa is dead. How is Ryūjin Jakka (Flowing Blade-like Flame) being manifested? Is that sword really that powerful!?"
From within the chalk-white lump, Hollow masks strained and writhed outward. At that moment, a sharp crack sounded in Byakuya's ear. The space in front of him splintered like a mirror, and the once-pale Hollow mass twisted—the face that belonged to Muramasa warped into an unrecognizable visage.
"Kyōka Suigetsu…" Fury flashed in Byakuya's eyes as he searched around for Kyōka Suigetsu's figure. To manipulate his perception with that kind of power—aside from Hirako Shinji a hundred years ago, only Kyōka Suigetsu of Aizen could do this.
Meanwhile, hidden in a shadowed corner of the First Division, Kyōka Suigetsu smiled faintly, slid its blade back into the sheath, and murmured:
"Mr. Muramasa, I told you our abilities make a perfect pair."
Muramasa could bewitch zanpakuto—but his own strength was too meager to sway the truly powerful. But his bankai could manifest him as a physical entity and forcibly invade another's inner world.
That was precisely the ability Kyōka Suigetsu desired.
With it—Muramasa's death wouldn't matter. Kyōka Suigetsu could sever itself from Aizen and live independently.
The blade's lips curled. "Absorb a bit more of these Hollows. Once you fall far enough, you'll leap to Adjuchas-class…" A soft chuckle. "And then you'll be my nourishment—fuel for my climb to the throne of heaven…"
"—Tch. That hurts…" Kyōka Suigetsu's smile snapped. It clutched its chest, glaring at the cracks spidering across its body. "Cole…"
That human shinigami it'd looked down on had nearly snapped it in two earlier. The damage still hadn't healed.
Drawing a long breath, Kyōka Suigetsu eyed the pulsing white sphere in the First Division, a hungry gleam in its gaze. "No… these Hollows are too weak. Unworthy to become the Hollow within me…"
"Clang!"
Metal rang. Cole lifted the Ruyi Jingu Bang (Compliant Golden-Hooped Staff) and tapped along the Shichikyo Ken's blade. "Gonna behave now?"
The previously unresponsive Shichikyo Ken suddenly wobbled into the air, stubbornly pointing its edge at Cole—as if to declare it would never yield.
"Ah? Oh, really?"
Cole widened his eyes, caught up the Ruyi Jingu Bang, and went to town—ding-ding-dang-dang.
"Yield? Yield? Yield!?"
Beside him, Ise Nanao was on the verge of tears, watery eyes fixed on the Shichikyo Ken. That was a sacred ritual blade! During ceremonies it had to be placed upon a solemn altar, and all who approached must kneel to show respect.
And this barbarian… had hammered at it so long the sword had developed self-preservation reflexes.
Just as Nanao lunged to rescue the poor blade, Yoruichi seized her wrist.
"Lady Yoruichi…" Nanao looked up, eyes brimming.
Yoruichi shook her head, gaze turning grave upon the Shichikyo Ken. "Wait. Something's off."
A divine artifact, the Shichikyo Ken possessed unimaginable hardness and defense. It shouldn't react to anything.
Yet here it was…
Yoruichi frowned, then called out to Cole, "Cole—can your zanpakuto strike at the artifact itself?"
Cole blinked, still rapping away. "Dunno what you mean. My zanpakuto can hit the inner world, I guess. It's just… really strong."
One of the Ruyi Jingu Bang's abilities—Dinghai Shenzhen (Sea-Calming Needle)—could suppress the world's waters. He'd even pinned down Sode no Shirayuki's inner world before. The suppression hadn't held great, but still.
The two women exchanged a look of dawning realization. Nanao's eyes grew even wetter as she stared at the Shichikyo Ken.
No wonder it was overreacting—he was striking at the sword's inner world itself. Like a thug pounding on your door so hard your entire house rattled along with your skull. It would've been strange if the Shichikyo Ken didn't react.
"Lady Yoruichi…" Nanao pleaded. That sacred sword was for worship—this was too cruel.
A glint flashed through Yoruichi's eyes. She slipped an arm around Nanao's shoulders and whispered, "Nanao, did you forget your family's curse? This might be a chance—let Cole give the artifact a lesson."
Nanao froze. The tears stopped. She stared, dazed, at the Shichikyo Ken.
The Ise were shrine maidens—a matriarchal family. Women ruled; men married in. They venerated the Shichikyo Ken… and endured its curse: any man who married into the Ise would die young. Her father—Kyoraku's elder brother—had perished to that curse. Her mother had entrusted the blade to Kyoraku to shield Nanao from it… until this incident forced its return.
Thinking of this, Nanao balled her tiny fists and firmed her voice. "Mr. Cole—please… teach that sword a lesson!"
"Eh!?"
Cole—and the Shichikyo Ken—both froze. The elegant artifact gave a little wobble, as if throwing Nanao a look of pure betrayal. The shrine maiden's heir… had sold it out?
Face flushing, Nanao couldn't meet the blade's eye. She was still a girl. If that curse remained, any man she loved would die young. How could she accept that? She wanted a sweet, happy life with her husband someday.
With Nanao's plea, Cole's spirits soared. He eyed the artifact with undisguised menace. "Artifact, you'd better be ready."
He grabbed the Ruyi Jingu Bang and pounded away like a monk's mallet on a wooden fish. A strangely melodious "percussive hymn" rang out.
The Shichikyo Ken crackled and popped, flopping on the floor like a fish.
Finally—after several more minutes—the haughty artifact lowered its head at last, meekly allowing Cole to take it in hand.
"Finally behaving." Cole gave it a satisfied flourish. "Worth the two hours I've spent on you. Count yourself lucky. I was two seconds from using you as my wooden fish for daily practice."
The Shichikyo Ken thrummed, the whole blade trembling—as if promising to be very, very good. Please don't hit me again.
Yoruichi stared wordlessly. This sacred ritual blade was usually so lofty it required multiple rites just to be wielded. Today, evil met a greater evil—and drew the short straw called Cole.
Clutching the artifact, Cole swept the area with bright eyes—and locked onto the pulsing white mass from which a Hollow wriggled free now and then. "You'll do."
"Show me your divine power, Shichikyo Ken!"
Laughing, he poured reiatsu into the sword and hewed down at the white lump.
It was like chopping jelly. The mass didn't burst—instead, it bounced the Shichikyo Ken right back. Cole's face twitched. He gave up on the sword, swung his left hand; golden light flashed along the Ruyi Jingu Bang as he unleashed its suppressive force and smashed it into the white sphere.
BOOM!
The mass exploded, carving a pit seven or eight meters deep into the ground. The Hollows inside evaporated into reishi on the spot.
Around them, shinigami couldn't keep their footing, staggering and collapsing. "Cole, what are you doing!?" Nanao ran over, startled, as he raised the golden staff again.
Cole scowled at the Shichikyo Ken. "It won't behave. Beats it and forgets. Gotta help it remember."
Artifact, heh—couldn't even slice a few Hollows.
Yoruichi hurried between them. "Stop, stop—you've got the wrong idea. The Shichikyo Ken isn't used like that, and it's not a weapon for ordinary combat."
"Hah?" Cole glanced over.
"The Shichikyo Ken is a sacred ritual sword," Yoruichi explained, exhaling in relief at the blade's soft hum of agreement. "It can slay divinity—unleash holy power—to destroy any sacred thing. But because of that sanctity, it cannot cut the weak. Unless it's been reverently enshrined for years to awaken its holy power, its usable faculty is specifically its god-slaying property."
"So complicated…" Cole eyed the artifact with clear dislike. "Feels worse than your… uh, whatever that technique was—too many rules."
Yoruichi could only smile wryly. Only Cole would call the Shichikyo Ken "weak." In Soul Society it was recognized as the strongest artifact. When it erupts with holy power, it can even shatter other families' divine tools. It's precisely because it's so fearsome that the Ise family, though diminished, remains among the Four Great Noble Houses.
"Divinity, huh…"
Cole licked his lips and glanced toward the melting mountain. "That old man should count as 'divinity,' right?"
Yoruichi jumped. Before she could protest, Cole shot off, excitement blazing. "Time for me to give that geezer a couple of good cuts."
"Cole, don't you dare! You can't swing an artifact around like that—if something goes wrong and you kill the Head Captain, what then!?" Yoruichi chased after him, shouting.
At the same time, near the blistering mountainside, captains had already arrived—Kyoraku, Ukitake, Soi Fong, Kenpachi, Hitsugaya, and more. Manifested zanpakuto spirits gathered as well. Everyone wore the same tight expression, staring at the liquefying slope belching world-ending heat.
The ground reddened as the heat spread. The air itself seemed to blaze. Kyoraku scrubbed his brow and groaned, "We're done for—this time it's really bad."
Ukitake gave a helpless smile. "We've been idle too long… to be maneuvered this thoroughly by a single zanpakuto."
At this point, what was there not to understand? Muramasa had said he "sealed" the Head Captain, but he never had the strength to do that. Yamamoto had sealed himself to keep Ryūjin Jakka from manifesting and rebelling.
Then Senjumaru shattered that seal… leaving the Head Captain unable to suppress Ryūjin Jakka any longer. This hellish temperature was surely Ryūjin Jakka's own manifestation.
Everyone's eyes slid—uneasily—toward Senjumaru. Kyoraku swallowed. "Senjumaru… you've got a way to fix this, right?"
"…" Cold sweat beaded on Senjumaru's brow.
How was she supposed to fix this? No one told her she was coming in for a high-tier raid today!
(End of Chapter)
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