The sword-wielding warrior crushed the evil spirits—the undeniable hero arrived on the scene.
If that hero also happened to be a loved one returned from the dead, then the joy of this moment would surely surge past "happiness" and barrel straight toward "bliss."
In fact, that was exactly how Karin felt.
"Ichigo… you jerk!"
The black-haired girl, eyes reddening, charged at Ichigo and swung her metal bat at his head.
"Uwah! Karin, what are you doing—that's dangerous!"
Ichigo dodged in a panic, only for someone smaller—sweeter than honey, really—to launch herself at him with a flying headbutt that knocked him flat.
"Ichigoooo! I missed you so much!"
"Yuzu…"
Ichigo had been about to blow up, but the moment he saw his little sister bawling in his arms, his gaze softened, filling with apology. The complaints on his tongue dissolved into a heavy sigh.
"Sorry."
"You think one apology fixes everything? Don't get cocky just 'cause you're the big brother. If you're the big brother, then—"
Karin tossed aside the bat, grabbed his collar with one hand, and drew her fist back. Ichigo didn't dodge. In the end, that fist never hit his face.
It fell limply instead, dropping through the air along with her tears and soaking the lapels of his Karakura High uniform, the damp chill kissing his skin.
"…Live properly, idiot. Don't make Yuzu and me worry about you every single day…"
"At night we can't sleep. At meals Yuzu still sets out a bowl for you without thinking. And at school everyone keeps checking on me and forcing me to remember your stupid face! Do you know how much trouble you've caused us?"
"…Sorry."
Ichigo set his sword down and patted both sisters on the head with open hands, a lonely smile on his face.
"I told you, 'sorry' doesn't cut it."
"Can't be helped. I wish I could talk like that guy, but being bad with words is one habit I can't kick. Cut me a little slack for being your big brother, yeah?"
"What kind of big brother asks his little sister to cut him slack?"
Karin pouted and turned away.
"Ichigo… did you really come back to life? Did that summoning game my classmate taught me actually work?"
Yuzu lifted her face, pitiful and hopeful all at once.
"…Think that one through. And I already got your message—so no more of those summoning games, okay? You might actually attract something nasty."
Ichigo grumbled, then lowered his voice.
"As for how I'm back… it's complicated. I'll explain later. You two go hide in your room first. I'll watch Dad."
Roar.
Moonlight thinned as a colossal, misshapen monster blotted it out.
The mask's bloodthirsty gaze sent a chill down Karin and Yuzu's spines.
A figure stepped in front of them.
"Hey. Crashing a family reunion is one thing, but looking at them with those disgusting eyes… there's a limit to being blind. I'll knock every last one of you flat."
Feeling that greedy hunger rising from the very depths of the soul, Ichigo leveled his Zanpakutō toward the ring of Hollows tightening around the house. His eyes burned with anger—someone had just stepped on his bottom line.
…
Kuzacho, Kitakawase— across the river from Minamikawase, where Kurosaki Clinic stood.
Shinomiya planted himself atop the river bridge. The night wind, a hundred meters up, howled past, whipping his hair like rolling storm clouds. One hand rested on his hilt; his eyes were calm, yet radiated killing intent.
The standard student uniform looked, on him, like the crisp attire of a Shinsengumi swordsman.
Click.
His long blade slid out a breath—just a fraction of steel—and in the blink of a glittering edge, hundreds of Hollows rushing him from all directions, some enormous, were treated exactly the same—each split cleanly in two by one stroke.
What cut them wasn't the blade. It was Kidō threads too fine to see.
Seven strands in total.
A seven-kill instant.
One more strike than the six directions—up, down, left, right, front, back.
So not only were the attackers diced into scraps; the extra strike wiped out the remnants as well.
"Yah-ho-ho…!"
Laughter hotter than any summer wind rang over Shinomiya's head.
Yayahara—charging like a giant golden retriever—slammed into a Gillian wading into the river. The ten differently colored nails on her hands brimmed with power, like invisible curses; with a flowing flurry she punched the Gillian's head into a honeycomb.
A few quick-witted Hollows tried to ambush her from behind—only to find a yellow sparrow perched behind them.
Be born.
Rindō wrote a character across his blade; it released and reshaped, lengthening into something like a whip—though a closer look showed it was linked sheets of white ofuda paper.
When he wrote the character for "insect," the papers dissolved into a cloud of crawling things that surged in from behind and netted the ambushers.
Shinomiya watched quietly, then—without turning—lifted a hand and aimed into empty air beside him.
A keen Hollow with intelligence peeking through a rift went white with fear. "W-wait! I'll just—"
The word "go back" never left its mouth. A bolt of blinding white shot through its brow, and it plummeted, dissolving into black reishi on the ground.
"Ahahaha—so good! That all you've got? Lady Yayahara hasn't even warmed up yet☆"
Even the textbook-serious "Menos" had been torn apart by her. Flushed with pride, Yayahara felt maybe—just maybe—she'd inched closer to those two monsters, Shinomiya and Ichigo. She couldn't resist whipping out her communicator to take a selfie with herself and the half-ruined Menos corpse.
"Huh?"
She flipped through the shots and froze. Something terrible had photobombed the background.
Her face stiffened. Mechanical-slow, she turned to verify.
Behind the half-smashed Menos… a dozen Gillians had formed ranks—an unbroken mountain range rolling closer.
You got carried away.
Rindō flew over, cool expression shaded with exasperation.
"Uh…"
Yayahara looked sheepish.
High spirits had made her lose control of her spiritual pressure; the excess had lured a whole herd of Gillians.
"That was… part of the plan."
Shinomiya appeared beside them at some point.
"Good work, Yayahara."
"Ehehe~ Hearing that makes me happy, but isn't this a bit too many? Maybe we split up and divide them before taking them down, otherwise—"
A harsh red glare stained the sky—brighter than any sea of fire, like a string of little volcanoes about to erupt together.
Yayahara stared at the Gillians in the distance, all gathering their Cero as if sensing danger, and swallowed hard. Her face froze as she finished her thought: "…we get exactly this."
A Menos's specialty—Cero.
More potent than most Kidō. A direct hit could easily be catastrophic.
And this was a barrage.
"I said you did well, which means I planned for this," Shinomiya replied, completely unfazed by the spectacle. He flash-stepped toward the Gillian ranks.
His spiritual pressure surged, spiking in an instant.
He pressed his palm to his hilt and whispered the release.
"Eightfold Manifestation…"
"Zhentuo Yemi."
Light blazed around him, as if a Buddha had descended to manifest terrible divine power. Even his hair seemed to crystalize; awe and dread rolled off him.
Boom.
A dozen Ceros fired in unison.
The material world blurred, drowned in red—red—red—and an inescapable flood of spiritual force.
The next instant—
Shinomiya narrowed his eyes and drew.
—Sole Flash.
In a world where even sound seemed stripped away, the click of a blade returning to its sheath rang out.
The blinding red world split neatly in half—
As cleanly as cutting paper.
A dozen Gillians' upper bodies slid away and fell.
Clouds on the horizon shattered like glass.
The Hollows in that direction, untouched by the blade's light, were nonetheless crushed to dust.
Even the cracked air was forcibly smoothed.
That god-swift slash—catchable only by spiritual sense—ran all the way to the horizon and kept going, racing toward Tokyo Bay…
-------
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