Not only Urahara—Yoruichi also wore a puzzled look.
Yesterday this girl-and-blade pair could barely stand each other; today they were holding hands like inseparable sisters. What did Cole do this time?
Hearing that, Sode no Shirayuki flushed and moved to shake off Rukia's hand. Rukia only tightened her grip, pressed close to her ear, and hissed through clenched teeth, "Don't push it, Sode no Shirayuki."
All morning and through lunch, that one human and one zanpakuto had been doing utterly shameless things down in the basement. The two of them had their fun—while she suffered upstairs. A girl who'd never known a man's touch, slammed by wave after wave of ecstasy… she could barely walk.
Sode no Shirayuki huffed, a little smug. "Then beg me."
Rukia nearly exploded. Her own zanpakuto, personified, daring to turn the tables and make her beg? But remembering how weak her legs had been, she blushed and muttered, "Sode no Shirayuki… please."
Sode no Shirayuki's smile bloomed—like a zanpakuto finally sitting on the throne.
Just then, Cole dropped from the villa's second floor. He saw Urahara, Yoruichi, and Tessai and grinned. "Kisuke, ready?"
Urahara nodded, passing over a wooden tag. "Fresh off the bench. No idea if it will really block Muramasa's bewitchment, but it's something."
"Better than nothing." Cole stuffed it into a pocket and looked the group over.
Kisuke, Ichigo, Yoruichi, Tessai, Chad, Uryu, Orihime, Rukia, and Sode no Shirayuki.
All together, they made quite the sight.
"Uryu, this is a shinigami civil war. What's a Quincy doing tagging along—soft spot for shinigami now?" Cole teased.
Uryu's face tightened. He snorted, playing it cool. "Don't misunderstand. I'm only concerned that if your people are wiped out by their zanpakuto, the balance of the three worlds will collapse. I'm not worried about them."
Cole knew the tsundere routine and just laughed. "All right then—minions, move out!"
"Who are your minions!?" everyone shouted in unison.
…
Inside the passage through the Dangai (Precipice World), darkness spread ahead—the same old black corridor.
Cole sprinted and groused, "Twice to Soul Society, twice through this nasty tunnel. I hate this route. Honestly, I prefer the Hollows' Garganta (Black Cavity)—way smoother."
Urahara sighed. "Ordinarily we'd use the Senkaimon (World Gate). But Seireitei's under zanpakuto control, remember? Opening a gate means talking to the Shinigami Research and Development Institute. Which is… occupied. So today we crawl through a doghole."
He'd barely finished when his eyes flew wide at the rumble behind them.
"You have got to be kidding."
He looked back.
A massive brown-black sphere filled the passage, rolling toward them at terrifying speed.
"Kototsu (Cleaner)!" Tessai gasped.
The Dangai's janitor—appears every seven days to sweep the corridor clean of all obstructions. The timekeeper and custodian of the Precipice World.
Yoruichi's pace instantly surged. "Don't let it catch you! It erases anything in its path, including reishi constructs. If it reaches you, you die!"
Cole risked a glance and kicked into a higher gear. "So if it's that strong, why not capture it and hire it as a janitor?"
Kisuke flapped his hands. "Cole, don't you dare. The Kototsu is the Dangai's law made manifest. Conventional reiatsu attacks are useless, and it erases spiritual power on contact."
They picked up speed as they talked.
Cole soon noticed Rukia lagging, dropped to the rear by her side, and slowed his steps. "Rukia? I thought you were healed—why so slow?"
Rukia, burning red, shot him a lethal glare. "Because of you!"
If he and Sode no Shirayuki hadn't messed around for half a day, her legs wouldn't be jelly now.
Cole was utterly lost. He scooped her up. "Forget it. I don't get it, but I'll carry you."
Rukia went even redder—like a ripe apple ready to burst. She hid in his chest and whispered, "C-Cole… d-don't bounce so much…"
After a morning and noon of overwhelming sensation, her body was way too sensitive.
…
"Exit ahead!" Ichigo whooped, eyes bright as the light swelled at the corridor's end.
They dove for it—one after another vanishing through the seam.
Two seconds later, the Kototsu roared past, and all traces of reiatsu where they'd stood winked out.
They dropped from the sky and landed on Seireitei soil.
Gone were the solemn halls. In their place—rubble, everywhere.
Splintered buildings. The ground carpeted with debris. Smoke rising from heaps of stone. Embers still burning. A nation after war—desolate and bare.
Kisuke stood stunned. "This is Seireitei? Not District 80 of Rukongai?"
He'd lived for centuries, survived all kinds of storms, but he'd never seen Seireitei this wretched.
"What kind of hell is District 80, exactly?" Cole muttered, rubbing his chin as he surveyed the mess. "Judging by all the flowerbeds, this is either Fifth Division or Thirteenth."
Yoruichi's eyes narrowed. "This is First Division. Looks like they rebuilt the whole of Soul Society after you left."
"…Wow." Cole stared around. "Old Man Yama's First Division… reduced to this?"
Urahara pressed down his fisherman's hat. "Everyone, it's worse than we thought. I checked several streets—didn't see a single shinigami."
Seireitei with no shinigami.
What could be worse?
As they scouted, Rukia wriggled in Cole's arms and whispered, "Put me down?"
He blinked, then, as he lowered her, glanced oddly at the dampness on his palm. "Rukia, you—"
"Don't say it!" She shot him a murderous look, then, in a mosquito-small voice, "Find me something to wear. Now."
Cole's face got even stranger; he threw his own top over her shoulders.
"Hmph. Pathetic small fry," Sode no Shirayuki sniffed.
Rukia blushed to the roots and kept her head down.
Yoruichi finished her sweep, expression grave. "It's a mess. I've seen the signatures of multiple captains' bankai."
Urahara pointed. "Captain Hitsugaya's Daiguren Hyōrinmaru (Great Crimson Lotus Ice Ring) left a Sennen Hyōrō (Thousand-Year Ice Prison) over there."
Tessai said, "That patch is diced to one-centimeter squares. Senbonzakura (Thousand Cherry Blossoms), bankai-state."
Ichigo frowned. "I've fought Kenpachi. These gashes—his."
Uryu's voice was cool. "And that stench is Mayuri's bankai toxins. He used them when we fought."
Unohana knelt, fingers gliding over scorched tile. "And the Head Captain fought here as well—but not in bankai."
If Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni had released bankai, all of First Division would be ash.
Suddenly Cole's brows twitched. He swept Rukia into his arms and flashed behind a shattered wall. "Hide. Company."
No one asked questions. They blurred into the rubble's shadows.
Half a minute later, four bizarre figures came into view.
One looked like a crocodile, brandishing a serrated machete. Another, a beautiful, androgynous "man," carrying a makeup mirror. A third, a half-meter-tall runt with a shovel. The last wasn't even humanoid—a dark red boar with blade-bristle along its back.
Uryu's eyelid twitched. "What are these things? Even creepier than Captain Omaeda's tastes."
Urahara's eyes cooled. "Manifested zanpakuto. Judging by the forms, all in shikai—hence the menagerie."
Tessai murmured, "A pack of demons."
While they whispered, the zanpakuto chatted too.
The crocodile glanced at the androgynous one. "Ruri'iro Kujaku (Glazed Peacock), you said you sensed reiatsu here. Where are the shinigami stragglers?"
The tiny one with the shovel looked around, lost. "This is First Division. Lord Senbonzakura and Lord Katen Kyōkotsu already cleaned it out. Is anyone left?"
The blue-braided peacock in spotted finery admired the ruins. "Don't underestimate shinigami. They're no match for bankai-class blades—but they have other strengths. Kido, hakuda, kenjutsu…"
He lifted his right hand toward the rubble, smiling. "And in this spot, I can feel them clearly. Such ugly things—so unlike beautiful me—slinking and hiding to survive."
Cole's face went dark. "Okay, I can guess whose zanpakuto that is."
Only one man in all Seireitei fit this peacock act: the Eleventh's Fifth Seat—Yumichika.
"Good news," Yoruichi exhaled. "No captain-class blades here. The strongest is that Ruri'iro Kujaku."
She gathered to strike—just four shikai; she could drop them in a blink.
The peacock sang out:
"Bloom—Ruri'iro Kujaku!"
In an instant, opaline light surged. Strand after strand of glazed, vine-like whips streaked through the dusk like shooting stars—racing outward in every direction.
The vines seemed to hunt reiatsu—every place they spread was exactly where Cole's group had hidden.
Rukia blinked. "Cole, did you misremember? Yumichika's zanpakuto is Fuji Kujaku (Wisteria Peacock), isn't it?"
She remembered it as a purely physical blade—once mocked as one of the weakest.
Cole knew that was a front—Yumichika hid his true shikai—but this was neither the time nor place to explain.
The glazed vines kept spreading.
Just as they moved to break cover, Uryu snarled, "What are these things? They're siphoning my reiatsu. Disgusting—and tough as iron!"
He swung his right arm—one vine had snaked around his wrist, sucking away the power from his spirit bow. Buds swelled along the length, and as the drain continued, the flowers looked ready to bloom.
Yoruichi tapped one foot, plucked a bud cleanly, and studied it. "The drained reiatsu is stored in these. Looks like support-type, but the offense isn't bad."
She dabbed her tongue to the heart of the bud, drawing off threads of spiritual dew.
Urahara drew Benihime and sliced the vine off Uryu's forearm. "Stubborn. Cut it, and it regrows."
Unohana smiled, eyes crescenting. "A powerful ability. As long as it absorbs reiatsu, the vines can proliferate without limit."
As they talked, the vines drank from their bodies and the leylines of Seireitei, growing to a monstrous scale—thousands of cords, a jeweled jungle.
But the master of Ruri'iro Kujaku wasn't pleased—cold sweat pearled on his brow as he stared, horrified, at the figures in the ruins.
"Cole… Urahara Kisuke… Yoruichi… Grand Kidō Chief… Kurosaki Ichigo… Rukia…"
(End of Chapter)
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