"Gosuke, I really underestimated you."
Kenpachi Azashiro held his Zanpakutō firmly, looking across the cracked battlefield at Shigure, who stood poised and unyielding beneath the swirling reishi storm. His voice carried rare emotion.
He had thought killing Shigure would be easy—an efficient execution, nothing more.
But reality had proved far more complicated.
The next moment, Azashiro raised his empty left hand. A low murmur left his lips, the tone steeped in a deep, resonant rhythm.
"Ye lord! Mask of blood and flesh, all creation, flutter of wings, ye who bears the name of Man! Inferno and pandemonium, the sea barrier surges, march on to the south!"
It was the chant of Hadō #31 — Shakkahō.
But just as his words rang out, a second chant echoed through the wasteland, overlapping in a strange, discordant harmony.
"Sprinkled on the bones of the beast! Sharp tower, red crystal, steel ring. Move and become the wind, stop and become the calm. The sound of warring spears fills the empty castle!"
When Kenpachi Azashiro chanted Shakkahō, he simultaneously recited the incantation for Hadō #63 — Raikōhō in another tone, layering two completely different Kidō in parallel.
That alone was astonishing enough—yet it didn't stop there.
Soon, a third chant resounded.
"Mask of blood and flesh, all creation, flutter of wings, ye who bears the name of Man! On the wall of blue flame, inscribe a twin lotus. In the abyss of conflagration, wait at the far heavens!"
Then once again—
"Sprinkled on the bones of the beast! Sharp tower, red crystal, steel ring. Move and become the wind, stop and become the calm. The sound of warring spears fills the empty castle!"
And another—
"Ye lord! Mask of blood and flesh, all creation, flutter of wings, ye who bears the name of Man! Inferno and pandemonium, the sea barrier surges, march on to the south!"
Countless overlapping voices echoed across the barren wasteland, their rhythms clashing in chaotic unity. The desolate expanse seemed to hum, alive with the chant of Kidō.
The overlapping incantations were all Azashiro's voice—distorted, layered, and multiplied.
Shigure's eyes narrowed in shock.
He had expected Kidō from Azashiro, yes—but this? This was far beyond normal spellwork.
Dozens of chants recited simultaneously, their energies converging into a storm of destructive power.
Then he noticed it: in the surrounding sand and stones, small mouths had opened, mimicking speech—each one reciting the chant in Azashiro's voice.
Shigure's pupils tightened.
"The ability of your Zanpakutō…?"
He had no doubt now—this was Zanpakutō ability, amplifying and dispersing Azashiro's own Kidō through inorganic matter.
But Shigure didn't give him time to finish the chant.
The moment Azashiro's final verse was forming, Shigure's body vanished in a blur of Shunpo, appearing at his opponent's flank. His blade drew a bright white arc as it sliced upward, the air splitting with a piercing boom as sword pressure tore through.
However, Azashiro didn't flinch.
Shigure's strike, though brilliant in timing and strength, underestimated one thing—Azashiro's Zanpakutō.
After Urozakuro's release, its ability allowed him to merge his spirit seeds with the spirit particles and spiritual essence of both living and non-living things—granting him total manipulation of fused matter as if it were part of his body.
Once his spirit fused with surrounding materials, he could see, sense, and control everything within the range of his fusion. He could create avatars of himself, or manipulate the very land. The larger the fusion range, the longer the time required to complete it.
When he merged with living beings, the process was trickier. If the target's reiatsu was too strong, it caused rejection, shortening the control window.
But for Azashiro Soya, a moment was all he needed.
That day when he killed Kenpachi Kuruyashiki, he had used Urozakuro to steal only a few seconds—enough to deliver the fatal strike.
Now, he would do the same.
The moment Shigure's blade cut upward, his body froze.
Half of his body—the right side—suddenly felt alien, like it no longer belonged to him. His right arm twitched against his will. His spiritual flow faltered, disrupted by an invasive presence.
Within him surged a foreign will—a separate reiatsu, cold and deep.
It belonged to Kenpachi Azashiro.
"Gosuke," Kenpachi's voice rumbled, "meet death."
His own body moved fluidly, pulling back several steps. At his command, innumerable Hadō formations ignited in the air—each one perfectly completed, each one layered over the other.
This time, they were fully chanted Kidō—no power diminished.
Even a captain struck by a single one would suffer grave injury.
But this was not one—this was many.
*Boom! Boom! Boom!*
Shakkahō!
Raikōhō!
Sōren Sōkatsui!
A storm of crimson and azure flames collided, a bombardment of Kidō swallowing Shigure whole. The ground split apart, the atmosphere blazed, and the impact swallowed everything in thunderous brilliance.
Azashiro knew full well the risk he was taking. He had merged his spirit with half of Shigure's body—any damage dealt to Shigure would reflect partially upon himself.
But the price was acceptable.
To him, killing Shigure was worth any pain.
Then—amidst the roaring sea of light and thunder—a different voice resounded.
Deep, calm, commanding.
"Tear apart the heavens — Raitenshou!" (Heavenly Thunder Tribulation)
Electric light flashed across the battlefield, merging seamlessly with the arcs produced by Raikōhō. For a fleeting moment, Azashiro didn't recognize the anomaly, thinking it part of his own Kidō storm.
But then he felt it.
The spiritual seeds he had planted within Shigure's body—his sensory link—were suddenly burned away. Every trace of his reiatsu inside Shigure vanished in an instant, erased by a violent electric backlash.
Pain slammed into him.
Azashiro staggered, a stream of crimson spilling from his mouth. The backlash tore through his chest, his fused spirit forcibly severed. Yet his instincts kept him moving, his Zanpakutō swinging reflexively as a streak of lightning tore through the smoke toward him.
*Clang!*
Two blades met in a spray of sparks and arcs.
Before him stood Shigure—alive.
The storm of Kidō had not killed him.
Instead, arcs of blue lightning coiled around his arms, his shoulders, and the blade in his grip. Each pulse of electricity illuminated his eyes, sharp and unwavering.
Even his Zanpakutō vibrated with light.
Thunder danced along its length, and across his body currents flowed like veins of living storm.
This was Shigure's Zanpakutō—his true weapon of life.
A blade of thunder.
Zanpakutō of the Lightning System — "Raitenshou".
Judging by its composition, it belonged to the Kidō-type class of Zanpakutō, yet its post-Shikai form blurred the line—it became a direct-combat enhancer, one that amplified its wielder's physical status to their utmost limit.
In the hands of a weak or hesitant shinigami, it would be a wasted treasure. Speed and strength meant nothing without skill to match.
But in the hands of Gosuke Shigure—who had once stood at the pinnacle of shinigami's path, who had endured countless battles and reincarnations—it was perfection itself.
*****
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