Hueco Mundo, just outside Las Noches—the place where the Expeditionary Force Captain, Sengoku Ryū, had fallen.
Starrk and Lilynette had long since returned to Las Noches. The only one left behind was Higashi Shuuichi.
At this moment, he had no knowledge of what was unfolding far away in the Soul Society—no idea that his gentle, big-sisterly Captain had nearly uncovered part of the truth hidden beneath the fog.
Trusting Aizen without question, Higashi Shuuichi was stationed here without the slightest anxiety, faithfully carrying out his assigned task:
Wait for the prey to walk into the trap.
A long-duration Bakudō #26: Kyokko veiled his form completely.
He had also suppressed almost all of his Reiatsu, leaving just enough to maintain the spell. And to further ensure no one would detect him, he had gathered a dozen mindless Gillian-class Hollows, placing them around him in a chaotic pattern to mask any spiritual pressure he might emit.
Unless someone specifically attuned to Higashi's presence showed up, no Shinigami coming to retrieve the Bakuya Blade would ever notice he was there.
Originally, Higashi had expected to be camped out here for ten days, maybe a month.
To his surprise, less than a day had passed before several Shinigami figures appeared in his field of vision.
Judging by their uniforms, they weren't members of the Expeditionary Force. They must've been part of a special retrieval unit from the Soul Society, tasked with recovering the Asauchi of fallen Shinigami.
But Higashi saw through them immediately.
These people were not members of any retrieval squad.
They came straight for Raika, the Bakuya Blade, with no hesitation or signs of searching. As if they knew exactly where it was from the beginning.
Who else could do that—other than those belonging to the clan that created the Bakuya Blades?
After decades of life in the Soul Society, Higashi had never heard of any tech that could precisely track the location of a fallen Asauchi.
"There it is."
The group landed beside Raika. One of them—a wiry, smaller man—pointed to the blade embedded in the sands.
Raika, having lost the supply of spiritual energy sustaining it, had dulled in appearance. Its threatening aura was gone. Now it looked like an oddly shaped longsword, not something remotely resembling an Asauchi.
That one Shinigami's certainty only further confirmed their true identities.
The small man slung a black rectangular case off his back, placing it beside the blade. With a pair of custom gloves, he reached to extract Raika from the sand.
That's when the betrayal began.
A broad-shouldered Shinigami with long black hair moved.
"Bakudō #30: Shitotsu Sansen!"
Three glowing fanged projectiles erupted behind the smaller Shinigami, pinning him—and another Shinigami in front of him—to a boulder with a loud crack.
"Ishiiwa Kyūsuke, what the hell are you doing?!"
A third Shinigami, beak-nosed and shocked, barked out. His first instinct wasn't to retaliate—it was to question.
Hiding in the shadows, Higashi couldn't help but shake his head. People like this wouldn't last long in the real world—only in anime do characters hesitate at moments like this.
"Hadō #31: Shakkahō!"
Ishiiwa responded coldly, a chantless fireball launched straight from his palm. The beak-nosed Shinigami's eyes widened in horror as the crimson orb struck his chest, bursting into a brilliant explosion.
The final member of the group—a short and stocky man—finally caught on.
"You're betraying us, Kyūsuke! Incantation: Scattered bones of beasts, crystal towers—"
Higashi tilted his head.
Is this guy serious?
The short Shinigami had begun chanting Hadō #63: Raikōhō—a much higher-level spell than the others—but what was the point? They were five meters apart. What idiot thought it was a good idea to stand still and recite a novel in the middle of battle?
Clearly not a veteran.
Ishiiwa didn't wait.
This time, no kidō—just steel.
He unsheathed his Zanpakutō, used a basic Shunpo, and drove it clean through the fool's chest. End of story.
The two remaining Shinigami, still pinned to the boulder, screamed:
"You've gone mad, Ishiiwa Kyūsuke! The Kasumiōji Clan will never let you live!"
But Ishiiwa only laughed like a man already crowned victor.
"The Kasumiōji Clan? Ha! Once I possess this Bakuya Blade, I'll instantly have Captain-class power! What can they possibly do to me? Beg me for cooperation? That's all they'll be able to do!"
With that, Ishiiwa strode to Raika, cast aside his Zanpakutō, and reached down—his eyes wide with madness—as his fingers wrapped around the blade's hilt.
The moment fresh spiritual pressure touched the sword, Raika awoke.
A terrifying aura radiated from its core.
"From this day forward, I am a Captain!"
He laughed, throwing his head back, then spun around and leveled Raika at the immobilized survivors.
"Die for me—Shatter, Raika! Raien-dan!"
The blade surged to life. A fireball screamed from the curved tip, trailing a searing arc through the air.
"AAAAAGH—!"
Two screams. One result.
The last two were reduced to ashes without so much as a flicker of resistance.
"This is Captain-level power! Hahaha! This is my power now! From today onward… it all belongs to me!"
Ishiiwa trembled from head to toe, drunk on his own ecstasy.
Then—
"Sigh…"
A sound. Out of place. Quiet. Tired.
"W-Who's there?!"
Panic bloomed in Ishiiwa's heart.
He hadn't sensed anyone nearby. Not even the faintest flicker of spiritual pressure. All he'd seen was the dull wanderings of a few Gillians in the distance.
Impossible.
From the moment he gripped Raika, he should've reached Captain-level power. So how could someone still sneak up on him?
He didn't have to wonder long.
A silhouette stepped into view from less than a hundred meters away.
"Gotei 13, 4th Division, 3rd Seat—Higashi Shuuichi."
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