"Hmm?"
After cutting down Watanabe, the scheming old traitor, Yūshirō Shihōin turned, his eyes falling on the spirit array that had already begun its irreversible activation.
"Give it up. Once this array is triggered, even if you kill every last one of us, it won't make a difference."
One of the Quincies, sweating as he poured reishi into the glowing formation, called out nervously after seeing how effortlessly Yūshirō had dealt with Watanabe.
"Is that so?"
Yūshirō raised his arm toward the blazing wall of the formation, its surface burning like sapphire fire. Before the stunned eyes of the Quincies, the supposedly impenetrable barrier cracked open, and in the next moment Yūshirō's hand shot through, seizing Hōshō Aya by the back of her neck.
And the moment he touched her—
A blinding light engulfed the array.
When the radiance faded, only the stunned Quincies remained. Yūshirō and Aya were gone.
"Wh…what just happened?"
Aya's eyes were wide with shock. Everyone else had vanished. Only Yūshirō stood beside her.
"A reishi transfer array," Kurosaki explained as he stepped forward before Yūshirō could speak. "A technique that transmits anything composed of spirit particles to another place."
His gaze turned toward the remaining Quincies—men, women, children, and the elderly, all pouring their strength into the array.
"Do you even understand what you're doing? Why go against the plan we agreed on? Do you not trust me?"
But his plea was met with hardened eyes and unwavering voices.
"Kurosaki, you're too naïve. Do you really think there are Shinigami who can understand Quincies? Remember this: Shinigami and Quincies are enemies by nature. It's not a matter of understanding or misunderstanding. Even if we could understand each other, our paths can never unite. This conflict runs far deeper, farther back than you realize."
Their conviction was absolute.
Kurosaki's forehead dripped with sweat. He knew his kin had acted rashly, yet his heart still begged for mercy.
"Yūshirō, they're just deceived. Most are only children and elders. They mean no harm."
Yūshirō's gaze turned on him, heavy as an executioner's blade. "You want me to spare them, don't you?"
"I…I do." Kurosaki bowed his head.
"Very well."
Yūshirō's hand rested on his shoulder. Kurosaki's heart leapt—hope flared.
But Yūshirō's next words cut deeper than any blade.
"Even if I spare them… will they ever spare themselves?"
Before Kurosaki could respond, the answer came in a blaze of searing blue light.
BOOM!
Flames erupted among the Quincies. Screams filled the air.
"Help me! I don't want to die!"
One after another, bodies ignited, consumed by the same reishi they had offered up.
Kurosaki stared in horror, powerless, not even understanding why it was happening.
"Reishi Transfer Technique," Yūshirō explained calmly. "It allows Quincies to relocate reishi constructs across vast distances. But it has a fatal flaw—what is sent must be replaced. Shinigami can't use it. Our reiryoku is self-cultivated, internal. We can't draw more from the world. But Quincies… you borrow power from your surroundings. That's why you can sustain it."
He leaned close, voice low. "If your base reiryoku is 1, and the world lends you another 1, then your limit is 2. Surpass that, and the body collapses. Do you see it now, Kurosaki?"
Kurosaki's lips trembled. "You mean…the combined power of hundreds here still wasn't enough to match the five who already passed through?"
"You misunderstand," Yūshirō said coldly. "It wasn't that they were simply insufficient. They were far beneath the threshold. They must have used amplification techniques to force the transfer—at the cost of unbearable backlash. Instead of quiet collapse, they burn alive."
Kurosaki clenched his fists, rage and despair mixing. "Damn it…what can I do?!"
"If it's just the children, I can try."
Yūshirō's eyes flicked to several children, barely four or five years old, their small bodies writhing. A trace of disgust crossed his face—adults who would drag even children into a war, like some twisted cult.
"Please! Save them! I beg you!"
Kurosaki fell to his knees, striking his forehead against the ground until blood streamed down his face.
"I said I'd try."
Yūshirō stepped forward. His reiryoku surged into the children's failing bodies. Their pale faces flushed with life again.
"Thank you… thank you…" Kurosaki wept, clutching them tightly. He dared not ask for more. He knew—if Yūshirō had intended to save the others, he would have already done so.
Yūshirō's expression remained cold as he watched the rest of the Quincies dissolve into flames, their spirits scattering like sparks. Even the parents of the children had vanished in the blaze.
"Kurosaki. Take these children back to the World of the Living. And never—never return."
"…Yes." Tears streamed down Kurosaki's face as he nodded.
Aya stepped forward, sword drawn, pointing at Kurosaki's neck. "Are we just going to let him go? He deceived us."
"Let him go," Yūshirō said, pulling her hand away. "Someone must raise those children. Kurosaki, do not let them walk their parents' path. I have no wish to meet these same children on the battlefield years from now."
"…Thank you. I swear, I'll never let them step onto that path of despair."
Kurosaki bowed deeply, clutching the children.
Yūshirō didn't answer. He only raised one arm in a wordless farewell, his back straight and unyielding.
Aya glanced up. "You're too merciful, Yūshirō-sama."
"I don't kill needlessly. We're not mindless weapons. Besides…" His eyes glimmered faintly. "I've noticed something interesting."
"What do you mean?" Aya asked.
Yūshirō's gaze sharpened. "From the beginning, these Quincies weren't here to stop us investigating. No—they were here for me. Everything…the ambushes, the diversions…was just to separate you from me, to draw me away from the Soul Society."
Aya frowned. "But why? Do they mean to isolate and kill us one by one? Do they think separating us would be enough?"
"No. The real goal is simpler." Yūshirō's tone hardened. "They want me out of the Soul Society. To leave it unguarded—so they can act while I'm gone."
Aya's breath caught. "So even Aizen's attack…your very departure…was part of their plan?"
Yūshirō nodded grimly. "Yes. Whoever this is, they've been laying groundwork for decades—maybe centuries. Even my meeting with Aizen might have been within their design."
"Do you know who it is?" Aya pressed.
"No. They may not even be someone I know. But to orchestrate this, they must hold immense power and influence…"
Yet inwardly, Yūshirō knew—perhaps that was exactly what his unseen enemy wanted him to believe.
"What do we do next?" Aya asked quietly.
"First, find the others who were transported. As for the enemy's schemes—none of it matters. In the face of overwhelming strength, every plot will crumble."
He tapped Aya lightly on the forehead, a gesture both reassuring and firm.
"…Understood."
Aya bowed her head.
PS: Read Advance Chapters at patreon.com/c/Shinazuki