For Shiba Kūkaku, these recent days hadn’t been special, just ordinary—so mundane she considered them so of the most irrelevant monts of her long Shinigami life.
"Sis, I’m heading out!"
Another typical morning.
Kūkaku had barely woken when her little brother, Shiba Ganjūrō, called out with his usual request.
"No way! Ganjūrō, why are you always running off to Rukongai? I don’t care if you like hanging around with commoners—but at least try to be like your brother Kaien, will you?"
"You don’t have to graduate from Shin’ō Academy in one year like he did, or beco Vice-Captain in five, but could you at least pass the entrance exam?!"
Unlike most days, Kūkaku wasn’t in the mood to let her mischievous brother off easy.
Maybe it was because last night, for the first ti in years, her father, Shiba Mura, had co to speak to her about a mber of the branch family—Shiba Isshin.
She’d heard of him: low-profile, supposedly gifted, with spiritual pressure on par with her brother Kaien, though he’d never mastered Bankai. Despite that, he remained a re 7th Seat in Squad 10, never stepping into the spotlight.
He was branch family, after all. The main house had no real connection with him.
At least, that was what she thought—until last night.
Her father’s unusually serious tone, the subtle ntion of concerns about Kaien’s safety, all suggested sothing was deeply wrong.
Kūkaku had asked about her brother.
Her father hadn’t answered.
His face had.
But to Kūkaku, a Vice-Captain was practically invincible. What could possibly endanger soone like Kaien?
That lingering unease stuck with her through the morning. And now, Ganjūrō’s antics? She had no patience for them.
"No way, Kūkaku-nee! You know exactly how useless I am! You want to go to Shin’ō Academy? Even if I pass, it’s six years minimum! Then I’ll just be so cannon-fodder grunt, risking my life every day!"
He had a point.
But Kūkaku had older-sibling authority—and that ant logic wasn’t necessary.
"OW OW OW! Sis, not the ear!"
Kūkaku had grabbed Ganjūrō by the ear and dragged him back inside.
"You know exactly how dumb you are, which ans there’s no way you ca up with that excuse on your own. Spill it. Who told you all that?"
Big sister privilege: she didn’t need to argue—she won.
"Fine! It was... it was Captain Aizen of Squad 5!"
"I saw him in Rukongai when I was out playing. He was hanging out with the kids, teaching them calligraphy and stuff. He looked super nice, so I went to talk to him—and he actually talked back!"
"He gave the idea after I said I didn’t wanna go to the Academy..."
Ganjūrō rubbed his reddened ear, eyes tearful.
"Captain Aizen?" Kūkaku’s tone darkened.
She didn’t care how good he seed—he was now officially the bastard who filled her brother’s head with trash.
Trust level: -20.
"You’re not to go near him again. Ever. He’s not a good Captain. You want good Captains? Try Kuchiki Sōjun, Kyoraku Shunsui, Ukitake Jūshirō, Unohana Retsu, Sui-Feng—even Zaraki Kenpachi’s better!"
"If I hear you talked to him again—especially asking questions—I’ll break your legs!"
"Yes ma’am..."
Of course, Ganjūrō was already planning his next visit to Squad 5. He was certain he and Aizen had forged an unbreakable friendship. Aizen would help him again. Obviously.
What a genius I am, he thought.
Too bad fate had other plans.
Not only did Kūkaku keep him locked under her supervision for Kidō and shunpo drills, but—unbeknownst to them both—Seireitei was on fire.
Barely into their training, a massive Garganta opened above Western Rukongai’s First District.
From it spilled countless nos Grande—and even Kūkaku, who had never trained at Shin’ō nor served in the Gotei, could feel the crushing spiritual pressure.
She hadn’t felt this kind of oppressive presence since the Kasutajiji Uprising twenty years ago—or before that, the Noble Hunt Massacre, which had since been buried and outlawed.
Back then, Soul Society had lost dozens of nobles.
This ti, though... the pressure wasn’t within Seireitei—it was coming from outside.
"That’s good," Kūkaku muttered. "If they’re not inside yet, the Captains have ti to respond."
After the Kasutajiji incident, Central 46 had issued three key points for failure:
Underestimating the threat.
Poor reaction ti.
Most Captains were trapped inside the Central 46 compound and couldn’t fight properly.
This ti? None of that should apply.
So why, then, was the news so catastrophic?
"What?! Seven Captains already sent to the Human World last night?!"
"Kuchiki Sōjun—dead, found on his own doorstep?!"
"Squad 10’s Captain—missing, presud KIA?!"
As the acting head of the Shiba household in Kaien’s and Mura’s absence, Kūkaku felt her heart plunge.
Crisis.
Then ca the worst report—delivered by a dying noble retainer who had fought his way through enemy lines to bring it.
The nos were heading straight for them.
Straight for Shiba territory.
"Evacuate everyone! Main house, branch house—now! Ganjūrō, hide!"
She wasn’t powerful, but she was decisive.
That, too, was strength.
But the ssenger hesitated.
"Is there a problem?" she demanded.
"My lady, the main house should be fine—but most of the branch family’s combatants have already gone with Shiba Isshin to et the invaders head-on. He said it’s the duty of the Five Great Houses to lead by example..."
Even wounded, the retainer’s voice was full of admiration.
"Idiot uncle..." Kūkaku muttered, a complex expression crossing her face.
He didn’t even have Bankai.
In a war where Captains were dying, what could Isshin do?
But she didn’t order him back.
That was his decision.
And maybe, maybe, he’d surprise them all.
She made the final arrangents, then rushed to her father’s quarters.
They would flee together.
The rest, she would leave to Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni, the man called the greatest Shinigami of the last millennium.
But the mont she entered the courtyard—
Blood.
The scent hit her instantly.
She threw open the door.
Servants lay scattered across the floor.
"No..."
Panic rose in her throat.
It didn’t make sense.
Hadn’t the invasion just begun?
Hadn’t Central 46 said noble districts would be safe for hours?
She knew she should flee.
She was alone. Unard. Her father hadn’t answered. It was too quiet.
He was probably already dead.
And yet—
She stepped into the courtyard.
Emotion won.
Again.
Sumr wind brushed against her skin.
But she shivered.
Not from cold—from fear.
She checked the bedroom—empty.
The study—empty.
Then, behind the courtyard’s broken garden hill—
She found him.
Shiba Mura, her father.
Floating in a pond, face up, blood spilling like paint into the water.
She now understood how Byakuya Kuchiki had felt when sending word that his own father had died—murdered at ho.
But unlike Byakuya, she saw the killer.
He was still there.
Still waiting.
The Arrancar turned slowly to face her.
Like he’d been expecting her.
"Ye lord! Mask of blood and flesh, all creation, flutter of wings, ye who bears the na of Man! Inferno and pandemonium, the sea barrier surges, march on the south! Hadō #31: Shakkahō!"
A red fireball burst from her palm.
The Arrancar tapped it lightly.
Gone.
Like a candle in wind.
"Ye lord! Mask of blood and flesh... Hadō #33: Sōkatsui!"
A blast of blue fla surged forward—only to be flicked away.
"Bones of beasts, scattered stars—Hadō #63: Raikōhō!"
Nothing.
She chanted.
And chanted.
Bakudō #30: Shitotsu Sansen!
Bakudō #9: Geki!
Bakudō #61: Rikujōkōrō!
Hadō #57: Daichi Tenyō!
She fired everything.
Like a turn-based ga.
She cast. He stood.
No effect.
No cracks.
No struggle.
Kūkaku began to despair.
This... was the difference.
Captain-class vs. the rest.
She finally understood why her father had begged the family to raise another Captain, even if it ant turning to the branch house.
That was the only way to survive in this world.
She stared at the Arrancar.
He was toying with her.
She couldn’t escape.
She had known that since the mont she walked into the courtyard.
But still—she was a Shiba.
"If I’m going to die... I’ll die standing!"
She drew her Zanpakutō—a small blade she’d always worn like jewelry.
Untrained. Unused.
But it didn’t matter.
She charged.
The blade flew from her hand.
A casual flick of the Arrancar’s fingers disard her.
She crashed into the pond.
Swallowed blood-tainted water.
It was over.
Lying on her back, watching the enemy raise his blade above her—
She closed her eyes.
She hoped Ganjūrō would find the Shiba clan’s secret techniques and keep their legacy alive.
But... nothing happened.
She opened her eyes.
Right.
Side of her vision: a white Captain’s haori.
Left: her Zanpakutō—caught in the hand of soone standing in front of her.
"Daitōkarichō... Tōno Shuuichi..."
There was only one haori in the Gotei without a squad number.
The Captain of the Blade-Hunting Division.
"Miss Shiba," said Higashi Shuuichi, "you really shouldn’t misplace your Zanpakutō."
He flashed her a casual smirk.
Handed her the blade.
And when his fingers brushed her own—
Warm.
Electric.
Her heart skipped.
His silhouette burned into her mory.
Then, Shuuichi drew his Zanpakutō.
"Advance, Soldier. Rejected Warrior—Tōgen."
A transparent barrier of spirit particles erupted, shielding them all—including the corpse of Shiba Mura.
A world cut off.
So long as Shuuichi’s Shikai remained active—or until he died—nothing inside the barrier could be touched by Soul Society.
He turned his blade.
Pointed it at the Arrancar.
"Picking on girls? Not very manly. Let be your opponent instead."
But in his heart, Higashi Shuuichi didn’t call him "Arrancar."
He called him—
Tōsen Kana.
Still wearing his haori.
Still loyal to nothing but vengeance.
He hadn’t toyed with Kūkaku out of cruelty.
He was waiting.
Waiting for Shuuichi to arrive.
"Let’s fight."
Tōsen spoke, voice flat, stepping forward.
Reviews
All reviews (0)