Baraggan Louisenbairn hefted his double-bladed axe, and his presence spiked severalfold.
Only now did the Segunda Espada's crushing spiritual pressure reveal itself in full.
Rukia's face tightened as a chilling thought struck her:
If they really go at it, Shiba City will be wiped off the map…!
The pressure nearly made her forget her duty. Yoruichi, however, remained composed.
"Relax," Yoruichi said. "Kisuke and Tessai headed here the moment that garganta opened. While Shimo tangled with those three eyesores, they began evacuating civilians. Only the outskirts should still have stragglers."
Rukia exhaled in relief. She wasn't soft-hearted, but watching an entire city die was something she could not accept.
Yoruichi's brows flicked up. In one smooth motion she slipped a reiatsu-concealment cloak over herself and Rukia, shrinking back into her cat form to share the same cover.
"Yoruichi-senpai?" Rukia blinked at the sudden black hooded mantle—and the black cat perched on her shoulder.
"A captain from Seireitei is arriving. Best not to meet them. Hide. You can use Bakudō #26: Kyokkō, right?"
Rukia nodded automatically.
"Cast it around the cloak. With that, even a captain shouldn't notice us."
Rukia lifted a finger. "Bakudō #26: Kyokkō."
Soft light rippled from her fingertip and swallowed them both. Their outlines bled away into nothing.
A heartbeat later, reiatsu rippled in the distance. A Senkaimon opened, and a Shinigami in a white haori stepped out, face painted like a mask, skin ghost-pale, eyes fever-bright.
Captain Mayuri Kurotsuchi of the Shinigami Research and Development Institute—with Nemu Kurotsuchi in his shadow.
He inhaled the air greedily. "The scent of a powerful Hollow… keke! I've never encountered a Menos of this caliber!"
Fixated on the scene, Mayuri crooned toward the fight, "Yo, Shimo-kun! Leave me something to study, won't you? Alive would be ideal! Fight freely—I've already blocked Soul Society's monitors."
Shimo's eyes narrowed. So Mayuri wasn't here only for a premium specimen—he also wanted to test certain suspicions. But if Seireitei's eyes were off him, Shimo could stop holding back.
"Two more Shinigami?" Baraggan's white brows drew together, his aura swelling. "No matter. Two extra strokes of the blade."
He clearly didn't rate Mayuri or Nemu. Truthfully, Mayuri's raw spiritual pressure was only average captain-class. His strength was never "combat"—it was science. (On that, he and Urahara Kisuke were ironically aligned, old grudges aside.)
Shimo slowly drew his zanpakutō. "Let's not waste time. End your long, tedious existence."
Baraggan snorted. "Is that confidence because you killed three Fracción? If you think I'm in their league, you're gravely mistaken."
His axe came down—so fast it fell outside ordinary sight.
To Rukia, it was a single afterimage slashing the sky; in the next instant the blade was at Shimo's face. Her heart lurched. Without noticing when it had happened, Shimo had become an irreplaceable constant in her life. Instinct coiled to throw her into the fray—
A paw pressed her shoulder.
"Steady, Rukia," rasped the cat. "Have some faith in Shimo. The man who felled Kenpachi Zaraki is long past the limits of a lieutenant. Among captains, he stands near the top."
Steel rang—clear and high above the city. The axe's brute force shook the air. Shimo frowned a fraction at the pressure.
"A Vasto Lorde-class king… not something to take lightly."
As if hearing him, Baraggan sneered. "Your strength is trifling, Shinigami. Boasting won't help you."
He swung again. Veins bulged beneath bone-white skin; the Gran Caída-like axe howled down. Lightning-loud impacts hammered Shimo's blade. Shockwaves rippled visibly across the skyline.
Skyscrapers capable of weathering a magnitude-7 quake crumpled like sandcastles, debris plunging in a choking plume of dust.
Mayuri's pen scratched briskly. "Overwhelming force—beyond typical captain benchmarks. Pure physical output reading: off the charts—'100' at maximum scale."
Space twitched. Shimo's focus sharpened—Baraggan vanished.
Sonído.
Wind boomed at Shimo's back. He reversed his blade; a dull crash sounded as the axe met his guard, hurling him hundreds of meters.
Baraggan's skull grin widened. "You reacted? Amusing."
Shimo steadied mid-air, calm as ever. "That vaunted ability of yours—you're proud of it."
Baraggan's mirth dimmed. "Your expression suggests you understand it."
Shimo angled his sword downward. "Among the Espada, each embodies a form of death. Your aspect determines your power."
Surprise flickered in the hollow king's eye. Then he laughed. "I didn't expect a mere Shinigami to know so much. Correct. I represent Aging."
He delighted in explaining his power to prey; to him, it was absolute.
"Aging is equal to time," Baraggan announced, spreading his hand, pride curling his lip. "The strongest, most absolute force in existence—the death that stands before all life."
Shimo's face didn't change—but far off, Mayuri trembled with excitement.
"Equal to time? Kekeke! Coming here was my most brilliant choice yet. Wouldn't you say so, Nemu?"
"Mayuri-sama is always correct," Nemu replied impassively.
"Two congruent forces colliding—exhilarating!" Mayuri cackled. "Shimo-kun, don't disappoint me."
Baraggan peered at Shimo. The reaction he'd expected—shock, fear, despair—was absent.
"You aren't afraid of this power?" he asked bluntly.
"There's no such thing as an 'absolute' power," Shimo said. "Only users who think they are."
Baraggan chuckled dryly. "So you lack belief. Then witness what 'aging' means."
He flashed forward, hand lunging for Shimo's head—the intent clear: rot it to dust.
A wet sound cracked the air.
Shimo's blade punched clean through Baraggan's palm.
"How big is your ego to try something so stupid?" Shimo said, voice dry. "You didn't notice it in the last exchange?"
Baraggan's pupil pin-pricked. "Impossible!"
He wrenched free with sonido, blood spraying. "If I can't affect you like this… then this should suffice!"
He rose on the air, axe angled downward.
"Rot, Arrogante."
Black spiritual pressure flooded from the blade like a tidal surge, swallowing him whole.
Resurrección—the Arrancar's true release. Where a Shinigami frees the power of a sword, an Arrancar frees the sealed core of their Hollow nature.
When the flood receded, Baraggan's true form stood revealed: his body wholly skeletal, crowned magnificently, chains hanging from the circlet to his arms, a voluminous robe draped over regal bones. A pendant with a crowned eye lay upon his chest—the king incarnate.
He pointed a long skeletal finger at Shimo. "Now, Shinigami… do you still wear that confidence?"
Royal pressure smothered all of Shiba City.
"Face death."
He drew from the void a pitch-black version of his axe and vanished again.
BOOM—
Power many times greater than before detonated against Shimo's blade. The clash no longer rang like steel; it exploded.
"So close," Baraggan rasped, jaws opened in a skull's grin. Threads of black mist leaked from his maw, seeping forward.
"You're already shrouded in death."
A sigh—cold as winter—escaped him.
"Respira—Breath of Death."
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