Sapphire beast's eyes. Snow-white plumage. A crown of gold. A delicate faceplate.
Over twenty feet from nose to tail—no less than a Gillian.
The creature soared under the moon, almost painfully beautiful, wreathed in an uncanny pressure—a presence not of this world.
Naturally, it claimed the city's tallest TV tower as its perch.
Boom.
Two ebony talons bit deep into concrete. The gale off its wings blew "the last Quincy," Ishida Uryū, off like so much dust.
"Waaah—!"
Falling, weak and weightless, he tried to kick off with Hirenkyaku—but his body wouldn't answer.
A light arrow from a distant rooftop curved in, spearing Uryū's cape.
Momentum swung him like a boomerang back toward the archer's perch.
Thud.
Uryū slammed into a water tank—no, he was pinned there by the arrow, left hanging like a white teru-teru-bōzu.
Shinomiya alighted on the dragon's back and flicked a glance at him—then ignored him. Of course it wasn't his doing.
Besides—
That was a Quincy arrow.
There was only one person it could be.
Uryū recognized the rooftop at once despite this first-ever experience of being nailed to a water tank—it was the roof of Karakura General Hospital.
And he wasn't alone up there.
Another man stood at the edge, back turned, looking across at the dragon on the TV tower.
Even as a silhouette—
He was more familiar to Uryū than the terrain itself—etched into his bones.
"Ryūken…?!"
"You want to ask why a man who disdains Quincies would use Quincy power to save you?"
Ishida Ryūken didn't turn. His voice drilled into Uryū's ears like an insult.
"…"
"A useless question. Hating something and possessing it aren't mutually exclusive. If you don't understand that, it's no wonder you're this pathetic—leaving a mess so bad even Soul Reapers have to pick up after you."
"…"
The retorts died in Uryū's throat.
Kree—!
The white dragon spread its wings and cried to the moon—proclaiming its rebirth, announcing itself to the world—or perhaps locking onto every Hollow in Tsubakidai.
Ordinary people couldn't hear it—or even see it.
The reishi pulse in the cry snapped Uryū out of his daze. He stared, rattled.
"Such alien pressure… What is that? Is this the Zanpakutō release Grandpa wrote about?"
"Fool."
Ryūken didn't bother to sand the insult.
"You don't understand books and think you can strut around as 'the last Quincy'? If Quincies overseas heard, they'd mark the Ishida name with shame."
He was scolding, but his eyes were grave—and troubled.
"That's a dragon… An ancient creature, much like Hollows in how it corrupts—especially in Europe, Britain in particular. Through contact with humans, they fell and became dark dragons. The oldest progenitors are seven in number, nicknamed after fairy tales—so they're called Fairy-Tale Dragons."
"'Snow White,' 'Scarlet Dress,' 'Golden Axe,' 'Bubbles,' 'Candy House,' 'Animal Band'… and 'Cinderella.'"
"Given it takes the moon to molt, this one's 'Cinderella.'"
"But for a Soul Reaper to be mixed up with dragons—creatures of uncertain origin, sworn enemies of humankind, permanently marked for purging by the exorcist orders where they're found—"
"Unexpected."
"Heh."
Uryū hissed through pain, sneering. "I thought you knew everything. Turns out you're just good at pretending."
Thump!
Ryūken shot, the arrow hissing over Uryū's head to shatter the one pinning his cape. Uryū dropped like a stone.
"Damn—! Put me down! What are you doing, Ryūken!"
"Calling your father by name is foolish too. I'll correct that later. For now… you're going inside."
He pocketed one hand, gripped Uryū's collar with the other, and dragged him toward the rooftop door despite his struggling.
"Wait! The Hollows—!"
"They don't need you."
"…What?"
Uryū's struggles faltered.
"'Cinderella' earned her name not only because she forms at night. When excited, she sheds a dust called star ash. Touch it, and you'll be cloaked in light."
Ryūken kept walking.
"Dust…?"
"You're Japanese. If you don't want hay fever, you avoid airborne particles—whatever they are."
He paused at the door and glanced back at the white dragon.
Just in time to witness something curious.
As the dragon cried, it beat its wings—casting a snowfall of glittering motes. Against her massive frame, they were unmistakably… dust.
Uryū saw it too.
The dreamlike night sky pinned his gaze in place.
The next heartbeat—the skyline erupted. Buildings and the air between them bloomed with chain explosions, like hundreds—thousands—of fireworks crackling at once, turning night to day—the flames eating every Hollow in sight.
"—?!"
Uryū gaped, blank.
Ryūken pushed his glasses like a scientist who'd solved a riddle.
"I see. That's what 'cloaked in light' means. Star ash—tiny meteors. Our British colleagues do have an artistic streak. If you study in England, try engaging them. It might unfreeze your talentless brain."
"…"
He dragged his stunned son through the door, shutting the heat out.
On the TV tower, Shinomiya—blissfully unaware of that father-son spat—took stock of his state.
Ichigo was growing. He hadn't stood still either.
Even with his spiritual pressure temporarily behind, he had carved out another path—digging deeper into the power his Engine Soul granted him: the blood of the Fairy-Tale Dragon, Cinderella.
If there existed a strong "hybrid" solution, then he would develop more "correct" styles.
Just as Ichigo's Soul Reaper power mixed with a Hollow's—
Shinomiya's mixed with a dragon's.
Thus, beyond the obvious dragon magic Invisible Scale, he could push further—through his Zanpakutō.
If "Eightfold Manifestation—Zhentuo Yemi" belonged to the blade, then "God Must Possess Me—Zhentuo Yemi" belonged to the sheath.
Blade and sheath—two kinds of Shikai.
Similar to the dual-sword theory in the original timeline's Ichigo—yet not truly a dual Shikai, more a two-stage Shikai.
You had to draw the blade first to release the sheath.
When the blade's inner power was spent—like a little death—
The sheath's outer power could molt into new life.
In its way, it mirrored Cinderella's rebirth.
The result—
Was not Shinomiya's own body dragonizing with fairy-tale blood.
Through Shikai, by using a portion of his Zanpakutō—the "sheath"—Cinderella could be given form.
"—Let's clean this district in one go!"
Shinomiya swung his arm, every inch the dragon-rider.
The white dragon glanced back at him, eyes full of human joy and ferocity—watch me.
…Right.
Blade or sheath—
Both were Zanpakutō.
And if so, this Cinderella's true name was also Zhentuo Yemi—the outward face of that prickly mushroom-girl in his inner world.
Kree—!
More star ash dusted the sky.
Motes turned into meteors, streaking toward every flicker of Hollow reishi.
Just as she'd once told Shinomiya—wipe everything nasty outside clean, not a single piece left behind.
-------
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