"Though truthfully… to die together? I haven't lived enough!"
Despite being relentlessly bombarded by the continuous barrage of Gran Rey Cero, and even taking a direct hit from Mazuru himself, Kyouraku Shunsui—captain of the Eighth Division—remained standing, albeit barely. His expression was pale, almost ghostlike, his body riddled with injuries and caked in blood. Yet, even in this state, his eyes held unwavering clarity.
He looked at Mazuru, who now staggered under the burden of shared trauma, and exhaled slowly.
"Although this ability allows me to reflect my injuries onto you." Shunsui muttered, "The tragedy is—it's hard to actually die from it."
A weak chuckle escaped his throat. "The first stage… it's only to let you feel the pain I've endured."
As his words faded, he raised both of his bloodied blades again.
"Nidanme — Zanki no Shitone (Second Act — The Pillow of Shame)!"
His voice echoed like a verdict handed down by the gods.
The space around them distorted slightly, the darkened hue of the Bankai realm deepening to a pitch-black gloom. A pressure unlike before descended—one that carried not just weight, but guilt.
"Because of you." Shunsui intoned, his voice almost grim, "I was grievously wounded. Seeing me like this… you felt remorse. That remorse manifested as a terminal illness… and so, you became bedridden."
It was a bizarre, almost ridiculous narrative—yet within this enchanted Bankai realm, the story became law.
Mazuru's body suddenly seized up. His knees buckled as if crushed beneath invisible force. With a violent thud, he collapsed onto the bloodstained ground. Dark, necrotic-looking blotches erupted across his body like a spreading curse. Blood spurted from the diseased marks, forming rivulets that stained the pale sands of Hueco Mundo.
Shunsui didn't move. He simply watched. His Zanpakutō remained still in his hands. He had no illusions that this would be enough to defeat Mazuru.
'This man… no, this creature… won't fall so easily.'
Even as Mazuru lay bleeding, his reiatsu still pulsed with monstrous ferocity.
So Shunsui did not hesitate.
"Sandanme — Dangyo no Fuchi (Third Act — The Severing Abyss)!"
Suddenly, the world around them shifted again.
*Splash—!*
Shunsui and Mazuru both fell into a vast, bottomless body of water. There was no shore, no sky—only endless liquid darkness. The waters offered no resistance, yet carried a suffocating cold that drained their strength with every second.
As he drifted downward, Mazuru's brows furrowed. "You really surprised me… I didn't expect your reiatsu to be this potent."
The weight of water made his limbs feel heavy. His own spiritual energy, vast and violent, now felt like it was being peeled away from his body in pieces.
"If my reiatsu were below yours… this might have been my end."
He raised his eyes, locking onto Shunsui's steadily sinking form.
"But unfortunately for you… my reiatsu surpasses yours."
Even with the wounds from shared trauma, even as his blood still leaked from the cursed boils created by the second act, Mazuru retained that calm confidence. He was not bluffing. The sheer density of his spiritual pressure was breaking the boundaries of conventional shinigami measure.
Before he reclaimed the sealed portion of Beelzebub's power, he had already stood at the pinnacle among the Gotei 13's captains. Now, with that power reintegrated, his reiatsu had mutated into something even more devastating—transcendent, almost unquantifiable.
He had unleashed over a dozen Gran Rey Cero in succession earlier—something only Espada-class beings could do sparingly, and even then, never with such casual frequency.
Shunsui knew this. Perhaps he had always known. But now, trapped in the narrative rules of his own Bankai, there was no room for retreat.
The two men continued to sink together. Every heartbeat drained their strength further. Mazuru's spiritual power was formidable, but even he was beginning to feel the pressure. Shunsui, however, was visibly nearing his limit. His breaths became shallow, his vision began to blur. The icy water stole the last dregs of his stamina.
With a heavy, weary sigh, he spoke again—quietly, solemnly.
"…Then I have no choice."
He raised his hand for what felt like the final time.
"Shime no Dan — Itokiribasami Chizome no Nodobue (Final Act — Thread-Cutting Scissors upon a Blood-Streaked Throat)!"
*Guuuoooh—!!*
The abyss shattered like glass, and the two were ejected violently onto the battlefield above. The dark curtain of the Bankai realm faded. The eerie cold receded. Hueco Mundo's pale light once again spilled across the broken sands.
Shunsui stood weakly, sword sheathed, shoulders sagging.
He raised two fingers, index and middle, and reiatsu began to swirl between them—shimmering like fine thread.
Invisible strands of spiritual silk wound outward like ghostly vines, wrapping around Mazuru's throat.
Shunsui whispered softly, almost like an apology.
*Snap—!*
He yanked the threads.
A burst of overwhelming reiatsu surged through them—crack!—and in the blink of an eye, Mazuru's head was severed.
*BOOM—BOOM—BOOM—!!*
From the neck stump, explosive orbs of spirit particles erupted like chain detonation. Each blast consumed flesh, bone, even the air itself. The devastation was absolute.
Every last molecule of Mazuru's body was pulverized.
Shunsui didn't move.
He knew that High-Speed Regeneration, while potent, had two limitations: destruction of the heart, and destruction of the head. With both gone—and no body tissue left to repair—there should be nothing left to revive.
Should be.
"…It's over." Shunsui whispered, almost in disbelief.
He collapsed to the ground, exhaling slowly. His body still ached. Blood clung to his robes, and the faint scent of char and ozone from the final explosion lingered in the air.
Then—
A voice spoke behind him.
"You're really heartless, Uncle."
*Gasp—!*
Shunsui turned in alarm, heart lurching in his chest.
Mazuru stood there—alive.
Unscathed.
Smirking.
"You do remember that I'm Nanao's man, don't you?" Mazuru said, dusting off his shoulders. "That makes me your nephew-in-law. And you tried to execute me like some common hollow. How righteous of you, killing family like that."
Shunsui's voice trembled. "How… how are you still alive? I saw your body destroyed. You didn't even activate your Bankai…"
Mazuru's eyes narrowed slightly. "Didn't I tell you the truth… over a year ago?"
"Zanpakutō… is merely a vessel for my power."
He didn't need to say more. The implication was clear.
He had transcended the boundaries of traditional Zanpakutō mechanics.
Shunsui's mind reeled.
When Mazuru had demonstrated the powers of the arrancars—Resurrección, Cero, High-Speed Regeneration—while simultaneously using shinigami techniques… it had already bent the rules of spiritual biology. Now, it was clear:
Even without Bankai—no, without Sword Release—he could wield power beyond comprehension.
"Who decided that my resurrection must follow Bankai?"
Shunsui said nothing.
Because he already knew the answer.
No one did.
No rule ever said Mazuru had to follow the same laws.
Because Kyo Mazuru… had long since broken them all.
*****
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