The colors around him began to grow more vivid, and the future — once hazy and confused — now appeared clearly before his eyes.
Blood streamed endlessly from Arima Shinya's nose, and his breathing had grown ragged — the spiritual exhaustion brought by forcing his reiatsu was driving his body to its absolute limit, filling him with unbearable discomfort.
Countless possibilities of "evasive futures" unfolded before his eyes, yet Arima Shinya kept them only as backup options.
After all, fleeing forever would never lead to victory.
It was like a small bird cornered by a massive serpent — no matter how it struggled, dodged, or screamed, in the end, all it could do was waste its strength.
He needed to make the enemy bleed — to wound him.
That was the only correct path, and one of the few possible turning points.
Kiganjō Kenpachi was a captain. Even if he had reached that position through dubious, almost deceitful means… his power, however, was undeniable.
Without question, he was the strongest opponent Arima Shinya had ever faced.
But even so… even so!
That didn't mean there wasn't even a spark of chance.
So then…
Where was it? Where was the future in which he could counterattack — and wound the enemy?
Arima Shinya clenched his teeth tightly. Blood clogged his eyes, and the sound of his heartbeat grew so loud it was like the roar of an engine.
Until, finally…
Within the infinite and immeasurable ocean of futures, he found the single remaining path of counterattack.
Unlike any other route he had seen before, this projection was tinged in crimson, exuding a chilling aura.
The Möbius ring had yet to be broken.
The flow of the future was still filled with peril.
But now, there was no other choice — he had to follow this path!
In a fleeting moment of unconsciousness, Arima Shinya swore he heard Aizen's voice echo in his ear:
— Arima Shinya… this is a battle for survival.
Up to this point…
There was nothing left but to fight to the end!
With a sharp sound, like the whistle of the wind, the time that had been frozen began to creak — like rusted gears grinding back into motion.
The power that had held the flow of time still was completely shattered.
Arima Shinya had no place left to retreat.
Between the cracks of that fragmented world, the young man's cold gaze rose.
His breathing, once chaotic, grew calm. All of his remaining strength dispersed, and his body fell from the ruins toward the ground…
As he landed clumsily, he spat a mouthful of blood, yet his eyes held unshakable resolve.
He gathered every fragment of reiatsu he still possessed.
His body was like a soaked towel twisted to its limit — not a single drop left.
Focus everything into one single point — and then release it.
Fuu…! The sound of the wind split the air.
A pillar of light rose, tearing through the heavens.
The reiatsu, dense enough to take form, surged upward like a torrent of blue, illuminating everything around.
With no restraint, he exploded with every ounce of strength he had left.
The spiritual energy rebounded violently, rising as a whirlwind that completely obliterated the already ruined shop.
In the sky—
Dusk hung heavy, and trembling stars flickered faintly across the firmament.
There, at the point where the sun and moon met and faded, Arima Shinya became a radiance that seemed capable of replacing the celestial bodies themselves.
— What… is that?
— N-never seen anything like it before…
The cowards, unable to comprehend what they saw, trembled. Before the unknown, all they could do was hesitate and step back.
Kiganjō Kenpachi, on the other hand, showed a mocking grin.
— Pathetic bunch… — he muttered in disdain. — It's just reiatsu condensed to an absurd density. Just because you've never seen it before, you get that scared?
Dragging his feet, Kiganjō's lips curved into a sneering smile.
Soon after, a dry laugh echoed through the wreckage.
Battles between Shinigami came in countless forms.
Swordsmanship. Hand-to-hand combat. Flash steps. Kidō…
The four fundamental arts taught at the Academy existed for a reason.
But in the end, it all came down to one thing — a clash between souls.
Therefore—
— Reiryoku is what matters most, brat.
Kiganjō Kenpachi's voice was insolent as he stepped forward.
The air warped under the pressure of his energy.
The members of the 11th Division screamed in pain, but didn't even have time to cry out — they fell unconscious, crushed beneath the force.
It was as if an invisible sun were slowly rising over the battlefield.
Kiganjō Kenpachi smiled — a confident smile, filled with absolute certainty.
Third level of Reiryoku.
Power enough to exterminate commoners like insects, and even seasoned warriors would crumble beneath the pressure.
That was his pride — his unshakable confidence.
— And you? — he jeered. — Even with that strange glow, in the end, you're nothing but a low-ranking officer… sixth level of Reiryoku, at best.
A mere officer daring to fight me?
Since he had decided to use his spiritual power, it would be best to finish this quickly — the less commotion, the smaller the chance of irritating old Yamamoto.
Then die.
Kiganjō's muscles tensed and swelled like steel bars. He raised his Zanpakutō and swung it in a wide horizontal slash.
BOOM!
In an instant, sand and debris surged upward, and the air was cleaved by the blade. The shockwave advanced like a hurricane, swallowing Arima Shinya whole.
— It's coming…
That was the attack of a Captain — a blade driven by pure killing intent and fueled by spiritual power.
It was overwhelming. The force was so crushing that Arima Shinya's body trembled involuntarily.
But…
He had already foreseen it.
Sha! A faint sound sliced through the air.
The young man shifted sideways, lowering his center of gravity and sheathing his sword.
Between inhale and exhale, the cycle was complete — in an instant, his legs, coiled tight like compressed springs, propelled him forward.
Arima Shinya vanished.
Where he once stood, only a streak of light remained — like lightning cutting through the void.
— Hm? Not bad…
Kiganjō watched as his own blade was split in two, and from the trail of that cut emerged a blood-soaked figure — Arima Shinya, covered in wounds.
To withstand a Captain's attack was not something done without a price.
His body was covered in deep gashes.
His face, marked by fissures.
His left eye — slashed, forced shut.
But he was still there.
The edge of his sword turned again.
Kiganjō's second blade was already coming — he could unleash hundreds of such strikes without pause.
The blades gleamed, devouring the air.
The silhouette before him was cleaved in two.
But in the next moment, Kiganjō frowned.
…Something was wrong.
The feeling was strange.
The instant his focus locked on the strike, the figure dissolved — vanishing completely.
What remained behind…
…was only a Shinigami uniform, split in half.
— What…?
— This is the third movement of Yoruichi Shihōin's Shunpō… Utsusemi.
If he survived this battle, Arima Shinya would definitely have to thank Lady Yoruichi.
Thanks to that—
He had finally reached his ideal attack distance.
He took a deep breath.
Focused.
Raised his Zanpakutō overhead.
And as Kiganjō Kenpachi turned his gaze, startled — Arima Shinya roared and unleashed his strike.
Pshhh!
The flowers of blood ascended, saluting the moon in the sky.
Beautiful. Cruel. Twisted.
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