“You won’t die once you go in.” Rukia continued, her voice tight, “But you’ll be punished forever.” Hearing this, Yoriichi quietly looked at the Hollow.
His calm eyes reflected the grotesque outline of the Gates of Hell, and the Hollow’s twisted, agonizing form.
Ichigo couldn’t help but glance at him.
He felt that Yoriichi was different now.
The next moment.
Yoriichi spoke.
“Someone like it doesn’t deserve to live.” His tone was calm.
But the calmer it was, the colder it felt.
Rukia was stunned.
She instinctively looked at Yoriichi, about to say something, but saw him raise his right hand.
He clenched his fist in the air.
Whoosh.
A katana instantly materialized in his palm.
The blade was dark gray, and the tsuba (guard) was shaped like a simple, crimson sun.
Rukia’s pupils contracted.
A Zanpakutō?
No, that couldn’t be right.
How could a human possibly wield a Zanpakutō?
Her mind was momentarily in turmoil.
Yoriichi had already grasped the hilt, slowly holding the sword horizontally in front of him.
“Burn away all impurities…” “Kakuyō.” The instant his words fell.
BOOM!
The blade suddenly turned a blazing crimson.
Golden-orange flames flowed along the edge of the blade, as if the sun had been forcibly compressed into steel.
A terrifyingly hot Reiatsu erupted suddenly.
The entire abandoned factory was illuminated by the flames in an instant.
The ground became scorching hot.
The air distorted.
Even the surrounding steel supports hummed slightly in the intense heat.
Ichigo stared in disbelief.
“This Reiatsu…” His throat went dry.
Rukia was completely frozen in place.
This spiritual pressure intensity far exceeded that of most Shinigami she knew; it instinctively reminded her of her captain.
This Reiatsu was even stronger than her older brother’s.
How could this be?
How could a high school student from the Human World possess such a level of spiritual pressure?
Rukia felt her mind nearly stop working.
The Hollow, which should have been dragged into Hell, seemed to sense the mortal danger and struggled even more frantically against its chains.
But it was too late.
Yoriichi raised his sword.
With a single swing.
A crimson arc flashed out instantly.
Whoosh!
The hellish chains binding the Hollow were instantly burned away by the sun-like Reiatsu.
The next moment, the blade swept across the Hollow’s body.
There was no explosion.
No blood or flesh flew everywhere.
The Hollow didn’t even have time to let out a complete scream before its massive body rapidly disintegrated in the scorching spiritual pressure, turning to ash and vanishing completely.
Rukia remained silent.
She was speechless.
But the ordeal wasn’t over.
The Gates of Hell suddenly paused.
It clearly hadn’t expected that the sinner it was taking away would simply be erased from existence.
The next moment.
The demonic face on the gate twisted violently.
Crack, crack, crack.
The chains vibrated wildly.
Then, a torrent of chains shot out from the gate like a tidal wave, sweeping towards the entire factory.
Ichigo’s expression changed drastically.
“Hey, why has this thing gone berserk?” Rukia snapped back to reality and cried out urgently, “Retreat!” Yoriichi took a step forward.
His crimson blade lowered slightly.
His breathing suddenly changed.
Steady, drawn-out, as if guided by some peculiar rhythm, it circulated within his body.
Then.
Yoriichi moved.
“First Form: Dance.” The blade flashed out like an arc of the moon.
But it wasn’t the moon.
It was the sun.
A crimson arc flashed past, and the onrushing chains snapped instantly upon contact with the Red Blade, the broken edges still bearing the reddish-brown marks of scorching heat.
A dense, cracking sound echoed in mid-air.
Fragments of chains clattered and fell to the ground.
Ichigo’s scalp tingled.
This was a battle he couldn’t afford to engage in right now.
Thinking this, he suddenly questioned his own existence.
He had just been thinking of protecting everyone.
But Yoriichi had drawn his sword, and it felt like he was about to wage war on the heavens themselves.
And the Gates of Hell seemed to be utterly enraged.
More chains emerged from the gates.
Layer upon layer, almost completely blocking the way ahead.
Yoriichi’s expression remained calm.
The Red Blade in his hand trembled slightly.
“Eleventh Form: Sun Halo Head Dance.” BOOM!
Crimson Reiatsu instantly enveloped the blade, transforming into a roaring fire dragon.
The fire dragon surged forth in the direction Yoriichi had swung his sword.
Wherever it passed, chains snapped one after another.
Not cut, but directly burned to pieces.
The chains were as fragile as withered grass before the fire dragon.
Rukia stared intently at this scene, her breath catching in her throat.
Is this truly Shikai?
Why is it so powerful?
And his spiritual pressure seems to have an extremely strong restraining effect on Hollows and such cold, sinister entities.
This is no ordinary fire-type Zanpakutō.
This is more like… The sun.
The next moment.
The flaming dragon broke through all obstacles and crashed headlong into the Gates of Hell.
BOOM!
A deafening roar echoed from within the abyss.
The entire factory shuddered.
The chains, which had been swirling wildly, suddenly froze.
Then, as if startled by something immense, they all rapidly retracted.
The grotesque Gates of Hell began to close at an incredible speed.
The demonic face twisted in silent fury.
The chains tightened.
Finally.
The gates slammed shut completely, slowly sinking into the darkness and disappearing.
The factory fell silent.
Only the lingering heat remained, slowly dissipating in the air.
The Red Blade in Yoriichi’s hand returned to its original dark gray, then transformed into crimson Reishi and vanished into his palm.
Ichigo stared at him, finally managing to utter a sentence after a long pause.
“You bastard…” “Just how much more are you hiding?” Yoriichi turned and glanced at him.
“He didn’t hide it.” “He just didn’t say it.” Ichigo: “…” That’s even more infuriating.
On the other side.
Rukia remained standing in place.
Her mind was now filled with words like Zanpakutō, Shikai, Reiatsu, and Captain-level.
Something’s wrong.
Something’s really wrong.
This human named Yoriichi Tsugikuni is a monster.
And the kind of monster that could shake the Soul Society.
Meanwhile.
In another part of Karakura Town.
In the Kurosaki Clinic, Isshin Kurosaki, who was about to turn off the lights, suddenly looked up, his gaze fixed on the direction of the abandoned factory.
His expression turned serious for the first time.
“This Reiatsu…” Not far away.
In the Ishida family hospital, Ryūken Ishida stood by the office window, his brows furrowed.
In the Urahara Store.
Kisuke Urahara adjusted his hat brim, his paper fan coming to a sudden stop.
He stared in the same direction, narrowing his eyes.
“This is outrageous.” “There’s someone like this hiding in the Human World.” Meanwhile, in Soul Society.
In the 12th Division’s monitoring room, a piercing alarm suddenly blared.
“Report!
Extremely high Reiatsu detected in the Karakura Town area of the Human World!” “Intensity is rapidly increasing!” “Target nature unknown!” But before the monitoring personnel could continue locking on, the spiritual pressure vanished like a receding tide.
The data on the screen fluctuated wildly before finally settling down.
Everyone was stunned.
“Gone?” “How could it be so fast?” “Should we report it?” The monitoring room erupted into chaos.
Meanwhile, in a secluded spot unnoticed.
A figure clad in a white haori stood silently high above.
The night breeze ruffled his hair.
The man adjusted his glasses, a slow smile playing on his lips.
“Yoriichi Tsugikuni, huh?” “Making such a fuss is going to be quite a hassle for me.” He spoke, his tone still gentle.
But beneath that gentleness lay an unspeakable danger.
“However, it’s not time to meet yet.” “I hope you can continue to surprise me.”