"No need for Bankai… You really are stubborn."
Masatsuki Aozaki licked his lips.
For a moment, he thought he heard a girl's light laughter, accompanied by the chirping of birds.
"My little sister can be a bit headstrong. She really shouldn't be keeping secrets from you at a time like this."
A playful voice came from behind him as a girl wrapped her arms around him, placing her hands over his as he gripped his sword.
"But don't be too hard on her. She's been holding back, waiting for this moment, so of course she's a little temperamental."
"You are…?" Masatsuki turned his head.
The girl had striking green eyes and long brown hair, dressed in a pink kimono with matching ornaments. A sly smile curled at the corner of her lips.
There was an undeniable energy about her.
Masatsuki stared at her, reminded of the girl who had just vanished moments ago.
For a second, he wondered if he had somehow crossed into the world of Final Fantasy VII.
The older sister reminded him of Aerith Gainsborough, while the younger one was a dead ringer for Tifa Lockhart.
Shaking off the ridiculous thought, he refocused on Kenpachi Kiganjō, now appearing like distorted black-and-white lines in his vision. This was still Bleach's world.
"You're awful, you know that?" The girl pouted, pinching his cheek. "You kept calling our names, but you only recognize my little sister!"
"Well, you never showed up before."
"I don't care! You have to make it up to me and cheer me up!"
"You're even more willful than your so-called little sister… You two are Banshō Senran, aren't you?" Masatsuki raised an eyebrow. "So… is your name Banshō? Senran? Or something else entirely?"
"I'm not telling you! Serves you right for ignoring me."
"How could I possibly ignore you? You were the one hiding from me."
Masatsuki rolled his eyes, sighing.
"I know myself—I'd never overlook someone as beautiful and adorable as you."
"Hmph! Sweet-talking me won't make me happy."
Despite her words, the girl's face blossomed into a bright, mischievous smile.
The two of them chatted idly, as if they had completely forgotten the fact that Masatsuki was still on the brink of life and death.
...
A sharp cry rang out from the sky.
Masatsuki could sense frustration in the sound—like something, or someone, was upset at being ignored.
He looked up.
A massive bird, wreathed in roaring flames, spread its wings behind them, its fiery presence swallowing the sky. The surging waves of fire threatened to incinerate everything in their path.
"Master… You really have been looking out for your unworthy student all this time."
Masatsuki wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth and glanced down at his hands.
Reishi from the surrounding world was flowing into his body.
His bleeding had stopped, and his mangled hands—once stripped down to exposed white bone—were slowly regenerating. The Reiatsu he had drained was now refilling.
This only confirmed one thing for him.
I'm definitely not a Quincy.
What am I, exactly? A god?
...Hah. When did I start getting so arrogant?
If the Soul King or Yhwach ever caught wind of this, they'd probably mock me for eternity.
Masatsuki shook his head, amused by his own ridiculous train of thought.
"My Master was always a cheapskate, you know," he muttered with a smirk. "He'd give me the smallest sweet potatoes, every time. But they actually tasted pretty good, so I forgave him."
Licking his lips, he almost swore he could remember the taste of Yamamoto's roasted sweet potatoes.
"Ryūjin Jakka really is powerful… but this is my first time using its strength. Can I actually defeat Kiganjō with it?"
"I'll help you," the girl said firmly.
She hugged him from behind, pressing herself close.
"Ryūjin Jakka and I are good friends. I know what to do!"
Masatsuki Aozaki's expression twisted slightly.
For a brief moment, he was reminded of those movies from his past life—where possession by a ghost felt exactly like this.
He remained silent. Sensing his guard lowering, the girl behind him smiled knowingly.
High above, Ryūjin Jakka let out a long cry before dissolving into flames, merging into Banshō Senran.
In an instant, the world returned to its original colors.
Kenpachi Kiganjō's lips curled into a cold sneer as he continued advancing.
Suddenly, Masatsuki spoke.
"Captain Kiganjō."
"What? Trying to stall for time again?" Kiganjō scoffed.
Masatsuki continued, "I recall you never attended the Shin'ō Academy. Tell me, have you ever read Shinigami Handbook: Records of Knowledge?"
Kenpachi Kiganjō: "..."
Is he mocking me for being uneducated?
Before Kiganjō could respond, Masatsuki carried on.
"Do not pursue the aesthetics of blade-on-blade combat. Do not romanticize the virtue of dying without return. Do not value only your own survival. If you wish to protect one king and five nobles, then slaughter all enemies from the shadows."
Masatsuki shook his head, scoffing.
"One king and five nobles? Royals and aristocrats? Aside from a handful of them, most have nothing to do with me. If they die, so be it."
"But… as much as I hate to admit it, there are people I want to protect. I don't want them mourning over me."
"That's why I have to survive!"
"What nonsense are you spewing, brat? You think you can still make it out alive at this point?"
Kiganjō gritted his teeth—until his pupils suddenly shrank.
"That's…?"
Masatsuki lowered his gaze, gripping his sword with one hand as he chanted an ancient release command—
"All Things in the Universe.. Turn to Ash… Ryūjin Jakka!!"
A scorching inferno erupted!
"You've got to be kidding me… Ryūjin Jakka!?" Kiganjō gasped.
In response, flames ignited along Banshō Senran's blade.
The girl in the pink kimono gritted her teeth.
"No matter how many times I hear it, that release phrase always pisses me off!"
The flames around Banshō Senran flared even hotter and wilder, as if reveling in its own power, dancing in a chaotic frenzy.
The girl clenched her jaw, clearly displeased.
Masatsuki hurriedly tried to soothe her—
After all, his life was in this woman's hands.
Now that he finally had a chance at survival, he couldn't afford to lose it just because she was in a bad mood.
...
Ryūjin Jakka—Soul Society's strongest, oldest fire-type Zanpakutō.
For most Shinigami, mastering Bankai was the clearest line separating the strong from the weak.
But there were exceptions...
Like Ryūjin Jakka.
It was said to possess the most destructive attack power in all of Soul Society.
In Yamamoto's hands, its Shikai alone burned as hot as the sun's surface. And in Bankai? Its flames reached the very core temperature of the sun itself.
Masatsuki knew he couldn't wield it to the same extent as the old man.
But with his Reiatsu at the third-class spirit rank—undoubtedly on a captain's level—he could at least bring out part of its true power.
If he could control it well enough…
He might actually win.
...
Masatsuki staggered to his feet from the rubble, steadying himself as he gripped the strongest sword in his hands, aiming it at the slowly approaching Kenpachi Kiganjō.
"Don't try to fool me," Kiganjō muttered, his voice uncertain. "Your Zanpakutō was fire-type from the start, wasn't it? I've seen the old man's blade before—his is completely different from yours."
He let out a strained chuckle, clearly trying to convince himself.
Masatsuki grinned.
"Why don't you come test it out for yourself?"
(40 Chapters Ahead)
p@treon com / PinkSnake