Thirteenth Division — Amekandō Hall
Jūshirō Ukitake lay on the bedding, eyes half-closed, his brows tightly knit as though he were suffering through a nightmare.
A moment later—
He jolted awake.
The sudden movement triggered a violent fit of coughing, so fierce it sounded as if he might hack up his very organs.
Before the echoes faded, a tall figure rushed in from the corridor.
"Captain—Ukitake-dono, are you—"
He didn't finish.Ukitake raised a trembling hand, stopping him.
Right now, Ukitake was gasping for air, his face drained of all color. Beads of sweat the size of soybeans rolled down his forehead, soaking through his inner robes until they clung wet against his skin.
After a brief moment to steady himself, his brows twisted even tighter. His hoarse voice echoed in the otherwise silent room:
"Who…?"
"Who is abusing the power of Lord Mimihagihiko…?"
…
First Division Barracks — Captain's Office
Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto sat calmly in his chair, eyes half-closed as he listened to his subordinate's report.
"According to Acting Captain Ōmaeda Kishinji of the Second Division, the black-clad corpses found at Zentōji Temple all belonged to the rebel faction."
"From the traces left behind and the collected testimonies, it appears that—aside from the rebel troops—a completely unknown individual also appeared on the battlefield that day."
"Judging from the spiritual pressure alone, their level was likely Lieutenant-class or higher."
"Although it seemed they were supporting our side…"
"A Lieutenant-level shinigami with an unknown identity is… dangerous."
After finishing his analysis and conclusions, Otoya Genjirō stepped back, leaving the decision to the Head-Captain. As a mere Third Seat, he could only report. The final word was Yamamoto's.
"I understand."
The old voice rumbled through the office as Yamamoto slowly opened his eyes. The lines on his face eased—just slightly—yet even that tiny movement radiated authority.
"Assign the investigation of that individual to the Second Division."
"Conveniently, the Shihōin clan is eager to push their new successor forward. Let her handle this."
"I called you here for another reason as well—"
Before he could continue, a harsh coughing fit erupted from the doorway.
Both men turned.
Supported by Kotobuki Sentarō, Jūshirō Ukitake slowly stepped into the office.
"Teacher. Genjirō-senpai."Even pale as paper, he greeted them politely.
Genjirō gave a slight nod.
Yamamoto frowned. "What happened? For you to drag your sick body all the way here…"
"I had a dream."
"A dream?"
Yamamoto and Genjirō exchanged puzzled glances.
Ukitake steadied his breath and spoke solemnly:
"I don't remember the details clearly anymore."
"But one thing is certain—the dream was conveying a message."
"Someone is abusing the power of Lord Mimihagihiko."
Yamamoto's brow deepened sharply, nearly knitting into one line.
Genjirō quietly stepped aside, giving master and disciple space.
Silence settled.
Yamamoto thought deeply. He knew of Mimihagihiko's existence. Ukitake had confessed the truth when he took him as a disciple.
To ordinary people, Mimihagihiko was nothing more than the one-eyed native god feared in the 76th District of East Rukongai—Gyakkotsu.
But both teacher and student knew another legend entirely:
A being that descended from the heavens in ancient times—A vessel once used to worship the Right Arm of the Soul King.
Ukitake had survived his terminal illness only by offering up his own lungs as a sacrifice to Mimihagihiko, gaining the ability to communicate with the ancient god.
"Is the situation serious?" Yamamoto asked, voice low. He understood the weight of this subject. There was no room for carelessness.
Ukitake hesitated."I'm… not sure."
"The dream delivered only that message. To know the real impact, I must investigate Lord Mimihagihiko's shrine."
Yamamoto considered for a long moment. Then:
"I understand."
"This matter will be added to our priority investigations. For now, you must rest."
Ukitake bowed and took his leave, exiting the First Division.
Yamamoto watched his retreating back, murmuring:
"Gyakkotsu District… Mimihagihiko… the shrine…"
"Could it be connected to that shrine maiden…?"
…
Shin'ō Spiritual Arts Academy — Boys' Dormitory, Main Building
Kisaragi Akira collapsed backward onto his familiar bed the moment he returned.
Even though Captain Unohana's care was nothing short of miraculous, there was nothing quite like one's own room.
After a few days of treatment, he was officially discharged — just in time to face the upcoming finals.
Of course, since his ceremonial invocation had failed spectacularly, Akira had long abandoned any hope of passing.
Studying? Absolutely not.
Instead of memorizing useless material, it was far better to research his personal talent skill: [Masterful Craftsmanship].
He'd been interested in the skill since forever, but the last few days had left him no free time to explore it.Now was the perfect opportunity.
As for the Kidō inscription patterns—according to Aizen, Akira's spiritual body was currently "at capacity," and needed time to digest the previous engravings before he could imprint new ones.
And spiritual pressure training? Too much was as bad as too little.A fixed daily routine was enough.
"The essence of Kidō," Aizen explained calmly, "can be summarized in one sentence."
"It's the arrangement of spiritual pressure through a specific formula to unleash greater power or produce special effects."
"To create your own Kidō, you need a solid grasp of the foundational formulas."
"Hand seals, incantation, spiritual pressure alignment."
"All three together form a complete Kidō spell."
"Like this."
Aizen lifted his right hand. Brilliant sparks flared at his fingertips, sketching the shape of lightning.
"This would… barely qualify as an original Hadō spell."
"In terms of destructive output, it's about the same as Hadō #1."
Akira's eyes lit up in sudden realization.
He'd always skipped theory class, but he never missed the practical ones. And because Aizen's talent was absurdly high, he had been self-studying the curriculum for second-, third-, fourth-, fifth-, even sixth-year students since forever.
In pure theory, he outclassed the Academy instructors entirely.
With this explanation, Akira gained a completely new understanding of self-created Kidō.
"It's… not as hard as it sounds."
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, ideas forming instantly.
"The Hadō I'm most familiar with is… Byakurai."
Under Aizen's curious gaze, Akira lifted his left hand. Electric arcs crackled and danced across his palm.
"And… Shakkahō."
He raised his right hand. A sphere of blazing fire roared to life, radiating intense heat.
Aizen's eyes narrowed—he sensed it instantly.
He threw up a layered spiritual barrier and a Bakudō shield in front of himself—
Just as Akira clapped his hands together.
The two destructive Hadō spells smashed into each other with explosive force.