Early morning, three days later, in the desolate wastelands on the outermost fringes of the Rukongai.
This place was far from the Seireitei, well beyond the reach of where ordinary souls gathered.
Kaito Yanagawa and Isshin Shiba slipped quietly into the heart of the barren expanse.
They had deliberately evaded all potential prying eyes and ears, choosing a forsaken territory where even Hollows rarely set foot.
In his hands, Yanagawa held a rectangular device about the size of an ordinary book box.
Contained within was the Tenshintai crafted by Mayuri Kurotsuchi.
Isshin rubbed his hands together, his expression a mix of eager excitement and wary vigilance toward the unknown as he sized up the apparatus.
“So if we use this gadget on a Zanpakuto, it’ll drag that guy’s ‘true form’ right out?
Still, Yanagawa, isn’t picking a middle-of-nowhere place like this being a bit too cautious?”
Yanagawa set the Tenshintai carefully onto a relatively flat boulder.
His eyes scanned the bleak surroundings, his voice calm.
“Forcibly materializing a Zanpakuto’s true form is inherently a violent interference with the natural order.
The process, the outcome, and even the materialized spirit itself carry immense unpredictability.
What’s more, the one we are summoning is Hyōrinmaru, renowned as the strongest of all ice-snow Zanpakuto.”
He paused, glancing over at Isshin.
“No one can predict what state Hyōrinmaru will be in once he’s forcefully dragged into reality.
Inside the Seireitei, the slightest mishap could cause incalculable destruction and spread uncontrollably.
Here, at least, we can minimize the fallout and have ample room to maneuver.”
Sensing the gravity behind the words, Isshin cast aside his playful demeanor and nodded.
“Fair point.
If that Hyōrinmaru goes berserk and freezes half of the Seireitei into a giant ice cube, we’d never hear the end of it.”
Without another word, Yanagawa unstrapped a slender cloth sheath that had been slung diagonally across his back and laid it flat on the rock beside the Tenshintai.
The cloth looked somewhat worn, flecked with faint specks of dust, evidently untouched for a long time.
Yanagawa slowly untied the faded wrap, his movements light and deliberate, as if touching a memory long sealed away.
Loosening the cords, he drew a Zanpakuto from within.
Isshin’s eyes were instantly drawn to it, widening with curiosity.
“That’s your Zanpakuto?”
Its scabbard was a plain, silvery white, devoid of any opulent embellishments save for a few extremely fine, naturally flowing ripples etched near the tsuba.
The hilt was equally understated, bound in dark non-slip wrap.
Yet the moment Yanagawa’s fingers closed around the hilt, Isshin keenly sensed the thin, chaotic reishi in the surrounding air give an imperceptible shudder.
It was not a burst of spiritual pressure, but rather an eerie resonance between the reishi and the blade.
Yanagawa lifted the sheathed Zanpakuto.
He did not draw it, merely holding it quietly in his grip.
Meeting Isshin’s inquisitive gaze, he offered an explanation.
“Its name is Tenzen.”
“Tenzen?” Isshin repeated, turning the name over in his mouth.
“Sounds wicked!
What’s its ability?
Come on, spill!”
Yanagawa’s gaze lingered on the silver-white scabbard.
“Its ability is ‘vibration.'”
“Vibration?” Isshin blinked, then snapped his fingers in realization.
“Oh!
I get it!
Like an earthquake?
Or is it a sonic attack?”
Yanagawa shook his head.
“It’s difficult to describe in detail.
You’ll see when the time comes.
The truth is, I haven’t mastered perfect control over its power yet.
The slightest deviation can trigger unpredictable chain reactions.
After it first awakened, I realized that until I achieve complete mastery, unleashing it within an environment like the Seireitei—where reishi structures are rigid, buildings are packed tight, and people are everywhere—is far too dangerous.
One careless slip, and leveling a building would be the least of our worries.”
He glanced at Tenzen in his hand.
“That’s why I rarely use it, keeping it sealed away for the most part.
Naturally, I never carry it on me while inside the Seireitei.”
Isshin clicked his tongue in awe.
No wonder Yanagawa was reluctant to draw it.
The thing was practically a walking, unstable bomb—one with an indeterminate blast yield, no less.
“Then bringing it out now means…”
Yanagawa slid Tenzen gently into his sash at his waist, his gaze returning to the Tenshintai on the boulder.
“The opponent we face today is Hyōrinmaru.
Regardless of his condition, the power of the strongest ice-snow Zanpakuto cannot be taken lightly.
Bringing Tenzen along is a precaution.
Out here, even if Tenzen slips slightly out of control, the damage will be relatively contained.
There is little need for restraint.”
“Understood.” Isshin’s expression hardened as his hand dropped to the hilt at his own hip.
“Then I’m ready too.
Mine might not be as freaky as yours, but it’s more than enough for a standard brawl!”
“Let us begin, then.”
Yanagawa first produced the two “Hyōrinmaru” blades.
Their scabbards differed slightly in design, but the length, curve, and above all, that bone-chilling spiritual pressure leaking from within were virtually identical.
They were none other than Tōshirō Hitsugaya’s and Sōjirō Kusakabe’s respective Zanpakuto.
“What are you…?” Isshin asked, puzzled.
Without answering, Yanagawa took Sōjirō Kusakabe’s Hyōrinmaru, aimed the tip down toward the specialized central slot designed to receive a Zanpakuto’s spiritual imprint, and slowly drove it into the Tenshintai.
The reishi circuits across the Tenshintai’s surface continued to pulse with a dim blue glow.
The device let out a low hum, its reishi vortex gently spinning.
Yet beyond that, nothing happened.
“Huh?
No response?” Isshin leaned in for a closer look before turning back to Yanagawa.
“What gives?
Is the Tenshintai broken, or did that Mayuri bastard hand us a defective dud?”
Yanagawa showed no surprise whatsoever.
If anything, a flash of vindication flickered in his eyes, as if his suspicions had been confirmed.
He smoothly drew Kusakabe’s Hyōrinmaru from the device with a steady hand.
“There is nothing wrong with the Tenshintai,” Yanagawa explained calmly, looking down at the blade he had just withdrawn.
“I was merely testing a hypothesis.
As it turns out, I was right.”
“What hypothesis?” Isshin pressed.
“The Tenshintai operates by using high-density reishi resonance and rule interference to forcefully amplify and materialize the blade spirit slumbering within.
Its target is the Zanpakuto’s core essence.” As he spoke, Yanagawa picked up Tōshirō Hitsugaya’s Hyōrinmaru.
“If a Zanpakuto does not contain that core within its steel, or if that essence is in a state unreachable by the Tenshintai…
the device cannot materialize it.”
He met Isshin’s eyes.
“It is very likely that Kusakabe’s Hyōrinmaru does not harbor the true core of Hyōrinmaru at all.
It is more like an empty shell—a replica imbued with a fragment of Hyōrinmaru’s power.”
Isshin sucked in a sharp breath.
“H-How is that even possible?!”
“Which means the answer lies with this one.”
Wasting no more words, Yanagawa solemnly drove Tōshirō Hitsugaya’s Hyōrinmaru into the Tenshintai’s central slot.
In that very instant—
*BOOM!*
In stark contrast to the earlier silence, the Tenshintai violently shuddered, every faint blue reishi circuit across its surface erupting into blinding radiance!
At the same moment, a colossal spiritual pressure—like an ancient iceberg shattering after eons of slumber—detonated outward from the Tenshintai, engulfing the wilderness!
*Crack!
Crackle!*
Radiating outward from where Yanagawa and Isshin stood, the ground, the crags, and even the very air across hundreds of meters were instantly sheeted in crystalline ice!
Frigid currents danced wildly as the leaden clouds overhead churned as if seized by an invisible titan’s hand.
Swirling together in haste, fine ice crystals began to flutter down, transforming in the blink of an eye into a howling blizzard!
Weather manipulation—Hyōrinmaru’s innate power over the heavens!
“Damn, that’s cold!” Caught off guard, Isshin shuddered violently from the chill, hurriedly flaring his spiritual pressure to ward it off, though white frost still crept across his eyebrows and hair.
His eyes darted in shock toward the Tenshintai.
Amidst the glaring white light, the colossal phantom of an ice dragon roared silently toward the heavens as it surged into the sky!
Lifelike and magnificent, with soaring scales and talons radiating an ancient, majestic aura of frost, it was the very embodiment of Hyōrinmaru!
It coiled and unfurled within the blizzard, every sweeping motion whipping up ever more ferocious gales and hail.
Yet this awe-inspiring spectacle did not last long.
After circling several times, the titanic dragon phantom seemed drawn by an unseen tether, rapidly contracting and condensing.
The dancing ice crystals and swirling snow converged toward the focal point as well, as if finding their true vessel.
The brilliance receded, and the dragon vanished.
Just ahead of the Tenshintai, at the very eye of the blizzard, a tall silhouette slowly materialized.
It was a tall man clad in an archaic, pale-lavender kimono.
He stood with an imposing posture, his features stern and aloof, marked most prominently by two intersecting, scar-like slashes across his face.
His hands and feet were not human, but encased in draconian claws of diamond-carved ice, exuding a deadly, bone-numbing chill.
He stood motionless, an absolute-zero domain that froze all creation radiating naturally around him.
His icy eyes slowly opened, reflecting endless glaciers and snowstorms within their depths.
Hyōrinmaru—the materialized spirit of the Zanpakuto!
“I-It worked?!” Both shocked and thrilled, Isshin managed a strained grin despite his chattering teeth, raising a hand in greeting.
“Hey!
Hyōrinmaru!
We’re—”
The words had barely left his lips—
Hyōrinmaru snapped his head toward Isshin.
There was no trace of rational intellect in his eyes—only a cold, chaotic fury!
Dead center on his forehead, a piercing speck of brilliant gold light—wholly alien to his frigid nature—flickered violently like a living organism!
*Whoosh!*
Without the slightest warning, Hyōrinmaru swung his ice-clad right claw.
The earth before him shattered, and a colossal spear of ice erupted forward, shooting straight toward Isshin!
“Watch out!” Yanagawa’s shout rang out almost simultaneously with the screech of piercing air.
He had been watching Hyōrinmaru with absolute focus, noticing something was amiss the very second the gold light flashed and the spirit’s expression turned feral!
Isshin was a captain-class combatant after all; executing Shunpo, he slipped clear of the incoming strike.
“What the hell?!
Why is Hyōrinmaru attacking right off the bat?!”
Yanagawa kept his eyes locked tightly on the icy figure exuding chaos and fury, particularly on the erratic golden light pulsing on its brow.
Releasing his senses to their fullest, he analyzed the nature of that golden brilliance.
“Hyōrinmaru’s mind is being corrupted,” Yanagawa said in a low, rapid cadence, heavier with gravity than ever before.
“Look at his forehead!”
Isshin noticed the sinister gold light as well.
“What in the world is that thing?!”
“I don’t know, but it definitely doesn’t belong to Hyōrinmaru!” Yanagawa’s words flew like rapid-fire.
“Its properties are bizarre—it’s actively disrupting Hyōrinmaru’s will.
We have to exhaust it, or suppress that foreign golden power temporarily!
Otherwise, Hyōrinmaru will remain trapped in this blind rampage, completely beyond reason!”
As if to corroborate Yanagawa’s deduction, the golden speck on Hyōrinmaru’s brow pulsed with renewed frenzy, and the ice spirit released a guttural roar laden with torment and wrath.