Shiba Kaien—Lieutenant of the 13th Division—looked grim.
His eyes swept over the two bodies on the ground, then shifted to the faint, dirty traces left behind in the air—reishi disturbed and stained by lingering Hollow reiatsu, the kind that clung to a place after a Hollow tore through and vanished.
He waited a beat.
No Plus appeared. No Chain of Fate.
That meant there was nothing to guide.
These two men hadn't "died normally." They had been devoured completely. Their souls were gone—no chance to return to the Cycle of Souls.
Kaien did not openly scold Mirai for arriving late, even though the delay had cost human lives. He simply let his gaze leave the bodies and turned to him.
"Fifth Seat Mirai," Kaien said, voice firm. "When we Shinigami come to the Human World, our duty isn't only to perform Soul Burial (Konsō) on the dead."
"When Hollows appear and threaten the living, it's also our responsibility to protect those lives."
He paused, eyes narrowing slightly, as if measuring Mirai's reaction.
"That principle is emphasized at the Shin'ō Academy, isn't it?"
Mirai's expression did not change. He answered evenly.
"My grades in the academic courses were average," he said. "I may not remember the details clearly."
His tone was flat—neither apologetic nor arrogant. It was hard to tell whether he was being modest or simply stating a fact.
Kaien stared at him for a moment, searching his face. In the end, he only nodded.
"Then pay closer attention to the field during the next phase."
"We have no right to interfere in human wars and slaughter. But the moment a Hollow targets living humans… that becomes Shinigami business."
With that, Kaien didn't linger. He turned and moved at once, rushing back toward the densest part of the battlefield, where souls and Hollows were tangled together and the 13th Division's Konsō work never stopped.
Mirai stayed where he was, watching Kaien's back.
Kaien Shiba… a man with Shiba blood. A clan that was once counted among the great noble houses of Soul Society. Even after its fall, a name like that still carried weight—and access.
A thought surfaced in Mirai's mind.
Could the Shiba be connected to human spiritual groups in the living world? Could someone be using human rites to produce something artificial—something like a weaponized spirit soldier?
The idea came and went.
Mirai shook his head once.
Not now. Not in the middle of chaos.
He moved.
He didn't charge Hollows head-on like the 11th Division. Instead, he slipped along the edges of the fighting, staying in the gaps along the 13th Division's spread. When he found drifting souls, he used the hilt of his Zanpakutō to guide them with quick, efficient Konsō.
And when something tried to pounce—
Mirai raised one finger without even turning his head.
"Hadō #4: Byakurai."
A thin, silver-white bolt snapped out and pierced the air. A Hollow that had been diving toward a cluster of souls exploded into dissipating reishi.
No flourish. No wasted motion.
Time passed.
Then Mirai noticed a shift.
The sounds of human soldiers fighting were fading. The number of people dropping was decreasing too.
That meant fewer new dead. Fewer new souls.
Logically, it should have made the Shinigami's work easier.
But it didn't.
The 13th Division looked more strained, not less. The 11th Division still roared as they fought, blades flashing in wide arcs—
And the number of Hollows… didn't drop at all.
They kept coming.
High above, black tears split the sky again and again—Garganta opening like ragged wounds.
They didn't stop.
"Byakurai."
Mirai's brow twitched. He flicked his finger three times in rapid succession.
Three silver-white bolts fired almost together, striking three Hollows that were only halfway through different Garganta. The lightning destroyed them in midair before they could descend onto the groups below.
Mirai looked up fully now.
Something was wrong.
There were around a dozen tears at once—different sizes, edges twisting like black crescents. Garganta were pathways Hollows used to cross between worlds.
But this wasn't normal movement.
Ordinary Hollows could open Garganta, yes—but most of those tears were brief, unstable, and used sparingly. The boundary between worlds resisted them. A Garganta that wasn't maintained would usually close.
These didn't.
From the start of the battle, Mirai had found the black openings irritating. Now he watched carefully, and the truth became obvious:
They had been open for a long time.
Once or twice, one looked like it might close—its edges tightening—
But then a new Hollow forced its way through, and the tear widened again, snapping back into that same half-open, stubborn state.
They were being kept in a strange equilibrium—not fully stable, but stable enough to function like persistent gates.
And they were pouring out monsters continuously.
This wasn't a simple "gathering of souls" drawing Hollows in.
This was… a supply line.
Mirai stopped his Konsō work and moved fast, arriving beside Ashido.
"Ashido," he said, voice sharper than usual. "I've found an irregularity."
Ashido had just cut through a Hollow's mask. He paused, turning his head.
Mirai pointed upward. "Those Garganta haven't closed since we arrived."
"The Hollow count is far higher than what the current number of souls should attract."
"Human deaths have slowed. New souls are fewer. But the Hollow flow doesn't slow at all."
"That doesn't add up."
Ashido followed his finger and stared into the sky.
His face tightened.
He was a veteran of the 11th Division—someone who knew Hollow behavior by instinct. He had been too deep in the fighting to look up and think about patterns.
Now that he did, the problem was obvious.
"You're right," Ashido said, voice low. "A Garganta usually doesn't linger like that unless something strong is involved—or something is holding it open."
"I've never seen this many open at once for this long."
He scanned the battlefield and found his Captain.
Not far away, Captain Kuruyashiki—the Kenpachi of that era—was cutting through Hollows with wild momentum, surrounded by a ring of corpses and dispersing reishi.
Ashido's eyes cooled.
Telling the Captain right now would be like trying to pull a predator off prey. It would break his flow—and there might not be time for that argument.
So Ashido made a different choice.
He reached inside his uniform and pulled out a compact, technical metal case—a denreishinki, the kind issued for emergency long-range contact when normal relays weren't reliable.
He crouched, set it on a flat patch of ground, and flipped the latch.
Click.
Hum.
Internal parts unfolded in a practiced, mechanical bloom. A faint vibration ran through it as it synced with spiritual pressure.
Ashido knelt on one knee and pressed his finger to the center, feeding it reiatsu and intent.
His report came out clear, urgent, and controlled.
"This is Ashido of the 11th Division. Calling from the eastern district battlefield in the Human World. Reporting an anomaly."
"We are observing multiple persistent Garganta remaining open far beyond normal duration."
"Hollow frequency and quantity are abnormally high and exceed what the local soul density should attract."
"This suggests an unknown external factor—either a powerful Hollow presence or an artificial trigger maintaining these gates."
"I am requesting immediate technical analysis support from the 12th Division and rapid readiness of reserve combat forces for intervention."
"Repeat: requesting technical and combat support. Treat this as an emergency."