Chapter 60: Akira vs Squad 11
Narrator POV
Location: Zekaikyū Shi-Shinrō – Tower of Repentance
From above, surrounded by cold, imposing walls, Rukia Kuchiki watched in silence. Her violet eyes widened in surprise as she saw a light streak across the sky, piercing through the protective barrier of the Seireitei. Moments later, the luminescence began to scatter in different directions.
Her breath caught for a second, and without realizing it, she brought a hand to her chest. There, in that exact spot, she felt a sharp sensation… not pain, but something deeper. Expectation. Hope.
"Akira… Ichigo… did you really come all this way?"
Her voice was barely a whisper, filled with disbelief, but also with a quiet emotion she couldn't fully understand. There was sadness in her gaze. Guilt, even. She couldn't help but wonder why. Why would they risk so much for her?
"I don't understand… what did I do for Akira to want to save me?"
Rukia was confused, unable to comprehend why someone as distant as Akira would come to help her alongside the others. It wasn't as if they were close friends.
Only that one time—when her brother Byakuya Kuchiki and Renji Abarai had come for her—had she and Akira truly interacted.
They had shared very few interactions, barely enough to form a bond… and yet, something in Rukia's chest throbbed intensely.
Part of her wanted to stop them.
And another part… simply couldn't help but wish to see them again.
Rukia clenched the hem of her kimono tightly. She could understand Ichigo—he was impulsive, stubborn, always charging into danger without thinking about the consequences. But Akira… he was different. An enigma.
And yet, in that moment when he held her, when everything around her seemed to be falling apart, she felt a sense of security she hadn't experienced in a long time. She didn't know why, nor how, but deep down… she believed in him. She believed in the promise he had made when Byakuya and Renji came for her.
She had no proof, no logical reason. Just a quiet conviction, engraved in her heart.
She let out a trembling sigh, trying to calm the thoughts piling up in her mind. She closed her eyes for a moment and bit her lower lip, suppressing an emotion she didn't want to let surface.
—He reminds me of him… —she whispered, barely audible, as memories pulled her into another time.
Kaien. In the way he made her feel safe. In how, with just his presence, he restored a sense of normalcy to her world. Something human. Something warm. Without even knowing her, he had helped her.
She shook her head quickly, as if trying to dispel those thoughts. Those memories. Those feelings.
But she couldn't ignore it.
It had been comforting to feel that certainty again. To have someone willing to protect her without demanding reasons, without seeing her surname or her past, without expecting anything in return.
Someone who simply saw Rukia… and not just another Kuchiki.
She slowly slid down against the cold stone wall, resting her head gently as her gaze drifted toward the only point visible from her cell: the Sōkyoku.
That object which had consumed the souls of thousands of shinigami. The one that would soon be used to end her own. And yet, for the first time in days, she felt no fear.
.
.
.
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Shinigami were running at full speed through the streets of the Seireitei. The first to answer the call to battle were, as expected, Squad 11. Savage, impulsive, and bloodthirsty, they celebrated the arrival of intruders as if it were a festival. With Kenpachi Zaraki as their captain, their mindset had been forged by chaos and brutality.
But their reckless charge was abruptly halted when something fell several meters ahead, crashing into the ground with brutal force. The impact kicked up a cloud of dust that engulfed the entire street.
The shinigami stopped instantly. Their enthusiasm vanished in a heartbeat, replaced by a sharp chill running down their spines. An immense, malignant, suffocating spiritual pressure crushed them from within.
For an instant, they all saw the same thing in their minds: pupil-less blue eyes, cold and alien, staring at them as if they already knew how they would die. A tense silence seized the group, and involuntary trembling became visible in several hands.
—T-this energy… —murmured one shinigami, his throat dry as his zanpakutō vibrated uneasily in his trembling grip.
Never had he felt such dark, sharp, and threatening Reiryoku. It was as if hell itself had materialized in that place.
Finally, the figure emerged from the dust.
It was Akira.
Tall. Imposing. His silhouette seemed carved out of the night itself. His black hair fell in bangs that partially covered his eyes, which glowed with a spectral, brilliant blue. His dark clothing was immaculate, not a single speck of dirt on it, as if the impact had never touched him.
He advanced calmly, his eyes sweeping over the group as if they were nothing more than insects awaiting their fate. The air seemed to grow heavier with every step he took. No one dared to speak. Even the fearless members of Squad 11 swallowed hard.
They knew exactly what they were feeling.
This man was stronger than any of them. And they knew it just by looking at him.
—Well… this isn't what I was expecting. —he said calmly, stopping short when he saw the massive group of shinigami before him. His face showed no emotion, only a faint hint of boredom.—Very well… let's dance.
Silence dominated the area.
The wind blew softly through the nearby trees, lifting the dust from the white ground of the Seireitei. In front of Akira, dozens of shinigami formed an improvised barrier—some with furrowed brows, trying to appear resolute, others sweating as they tightly gripped their zanpakutōs.
But none of them could hide their fear.
This wasn't just an intruder before them… they were facing the Ryoka who had injured a captain. A human who wasn't a shinigami, yet completely outclassed them.
Akira took half a step forward.
That single movement was enough for several of them to instinctively step back, as if their bodies understood something their minds refused to accept.
Then, he began to walk.
Slowly at first… calmly.
Then each step became firmer, faster, more threatening.
The shinigami's hearts pounded violently, their pupils constricting as Akira's aura weighed down on them like a crushing slab. Their breathing grew ragged, their grip on their weapons trembling, betraying their growing desperation.
And suddenly… Akira started running toward them.
One figure rushed ahead of the group, screaming with all his might—more out of fear than bravery:
???: If we're going to die… let it be fighting!!
He was the first to charge. One by one, the others screamed as well, forcing themselves to move, to run toward Akira in a desperate attempt to stop him.
An imminent collision. Shouts. Steel flashing through the air.
But Akira… Akira was different.
His aura. His crushing presence. And in his eyes, there was no hatred, no urgency… only a calm abyss and a faint glimmer of amusement.
Akira remained unfazed as the shinigami lunged at him from all directions, their zanpakutōs flashing as they cut through the air. With a fluid, precise movement, Akira caught the first shinigami bold enough to attack him, lifting him into the air before slamming him into the wall of a Seireitei labyrinth. The structure collapsed from the force of the impact, burying the unfortunate shinigami beneath the rubble.
With a growl of determination, Akira pushed deeper into his enemies, his fists and kicks moving with superhuman speed and precision.
Shinigami were sent flying by the dozens, crashing brutally onto rooftops in nearby streets or being slammed into the ground by the sheer force of Akira's blows. Yet despite the chaos around him, Akira remained focused and in control.
One brave shinigami attempted to attack Akira from behind, raising his zanpakutō for a fatal strike. But Akira, as if seeing through distance itself, suddenly turned and delivered a full-powered punch to the center of his opponent's chest.
The sound of ribs shattering echoed throughout the area as the shinigami was sent flying forward, smashing violently into the wall ahead.
The blow was so powerful that it not only knocked several teeth from the shinigami's mouth, but also launched him through the air before he crashed lifelessly onto the ground.
Akira landed gracefully in the center of a group of four shinigami before they could react. With a swift, precise movement, he grabbed one of them by the arm and hurled him into his companions, his body colliding with those in his path.
Akira was completely dominating the battlefield, his eyes scanning his opponents with superhuman speed and cunning. In a blur, he crouched and grabbed a zanpakutō lying on the ground, easily blocking the blade of another shinigami.
With a fluid and deadly motion, Akira sidestepped and carved a deep slash across his attacker's chest, sending him crashing to the ground, bleeding.
Akira stepped back slightly, allowing the incoming zanpakutō to harmlessly fly past him. Without losing focus, he hurled the blade he had taken, the weapon flying with lethal precision before embedding itself deep into the chest of an unfortunate shinigami, sending him crashing to the ground.
Despite everything, Akira was determined not to kill his opponents, showing surprising restraint and control in battle.
His eyes narrowed in concentration, analyzing every movement and countering each attack with superhuman anticipation and skill. It was clear that Akira was operating on a completely different level of ability compared to his opponents.
One by one, the shinigami began to fall, unable to match Akira's speed and strength in combat. Though he did not kill them, his total dominance over the battlefield was undeniable.
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End of the chapter