Bankai.
It is the second form of a Zanpakutō's release, following the first — the Shikai.
Bankai represents the final form of the blade, a state in which its power is released completely and wielded in absolute perfection.
Even throughout the long history of the Soul Society, those capable of reaching this stage are exceedingly rare.
For it requires not only extraordinary spiritual power…
But also complete communion between the Shinigami and their Zanpakutō — to be able to fully converse with it, or to make it yield to one's will.
Regardless of the method.
Regardless of the style.
In the end, all things flow toward the same destiny — like rivers running into the sea, culminating in one final conclusion.
The new form of the Zanpakutō after its final release — that is the ultimate trump card of a Shinigami.
Aizen stood before Tōsen Kaname, his expression a mixture of admiration and surprise.
"To push a Captain this far… perfect. So this is your true power, Shinya-kun."
BOOM!!!
The sound roared like thunder tearing through the heavens.
Even though it was already late at night in Seireitei, a sudden storm began to brew, scattering violent winds in all directions.
Crack, crack, crack…
The once-luminous moon had vanished without a trace.
In its place, a mantle of dark clouds spread across the sky — thick and oppressive, as if trying to devour the firmament itself.
The air was saturated with spiritual energy, overflowing with an inescapable presence.
The sheer weight of the spiritual pressure made the two observers from afar feel the crushing force immediately.
Cold sweat trickled down Tōsen's face.
His body trembled uncontrollably, instincts screaming in desperation — a deafening alarm blaring in his mind.
His body urged him to flee.
To get away — immediately.
He took an involuntary step back.
But a hand firmly grasped his shoulder, stopping him from retreating.
"Kaname, calm yourself," Aizen said in a serene voice.
The blind Shinigami turned abruptly, seeing the faint smile on Aizen's face.
"F-forgive me!"
"It's fine, don't blame yourself," Aizen replied, pushing his glasses calmly.
"It's your first time witnessing a Bankai this closely. Such a reaction is only natural."
"Without an equivalent level of spiritual pressure, it's impossible to withstand it without being crushed."
"Simply remaining on your feet before a Captain who's released his full power… is already commendable."
And that was the pure truth.
The gap between Shinigamis of differing levels was abyssal.
There were those who, through sheer strength, could shatter all known limits — and the Gotei 13 was not lacking in such examples.
And now, Arima Shinya was about to face that very wall.
"Bankai."
"Crush, devastate, rule over life and death…"
"Come forth, Great Demon Enma!!!"
The dense fog was completely swept away.
A colossal whirlwind tore through the field, destroying even the spiritual sea surrounding it.
And then, from within the chaos, he emerged.
Kiganjo.
His body no longer resembled that of a man.
It had transformed into a monstrous form over five meters tall.
Two massive, twisted horns — like those of a bull — protruded from his head.
His ribs had split open, and from within, four muscular arms burst forth with a crack.
His body, covered in black tattoos that spread across two-thirds of his skin, looked as though it had been forged in the depths of hell itself.
Lifting his face to the sky, Kiganjo let out a beastly roar:
"Gahahahaha!"
He laughed as his fists ripped through the air, generating shockwaves so intense they made space itself ripple like the surface of a lake.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The air, tortured by the force, distorted under the pressure, while nearby streets and buildings were mercilessly obliterated.
Buildings crumbled into rubble — and the rubble, into particles of spiritual energy.
Kiganjo laughed wildly, pride overflowing, shouting with every ounce of strength in his lungs:
"See this?! This is my Great Demon Enma!"
"Zanpakutōs mean nothing! I am the sharpest blade!"
"With my six arms, I unleash air strikes six times stronger!"
"Come out! Are you scared?!"
"Then I'll destroy this entire street! You'll turn to dust along with the ruins!"
Kiganjo's Bankai form — the Great Demon Enma — had completely abandoned humanity.
His horns, his six arms, and his mastery over air granted him perfect, zero-range, devastating attacks.
So that's it…
This is the true power of Kiganjo Kenpachi.
In the spiritual void, Arima Shinya's eyes remained calm.
The difference between them was clear — to stay and fight head-on would only lead to death.
But escape was impossible.
Kiganjo would never let his prey run.
And his relentless, blind assault proved it.
Accept death?
Not a chance.
Arima Shinya would never surrender without a fight.
The spiritual flow around him began to shift.
The sea of mist cleared — and at last, Shinya's figure took shape.
Ten meters ahead, directly before Kiganjo.
The monster roared, muscles coiling tight, six arms raised high, tearing through the air with a devastating strike.
Arima Shinya's body was completely shattered — not dissolving into water, but into fine particles of spirit energy, scattered to dust.
No regeneration — no return.
"Die, brat!" Kiganjo bellowed.
But then… he glanced to the side.
The scattered spirit particles of Shinya were reforming.
To his left, the young man appeared once more, Zanpakutō in hand.
In silence, Shinya swung his blade.
The sound that rang out was metallic — grating.
The sword did not cut — it couldn't even scratch the enemy's skin.
As if a thin blade were trying to slice through solid steel.
Kiganjo sneered.
"That fragile toy? You think that thing can hurt me?!"
"Be a good boy and die already!"
A single punch.
Another portion of Shinya's spiritual energy was obliterated.
Even so, he didn't retreat.
He gathered what remained of his power and formed another body — identical to the last.
Expressionless. Cold.
Three steps forward.
Side rotation.
Half crouch.
Slash.
A fluid, flawless movement — striking the exact same point as before.
Kiganjo, impatient, swung his arm, brushing the boy away like dust.
"I told you that doesn't work on me, you—"
Pfft.
A faint, almost inaudible sound.
And a sharp pain, like a needle piercing flesh, froze his face in shock.
"…Huh?"
He looked down.
The fragile, glass-like blade was embedded in his side.
The cut was shallow — yet enough to leave him utterly stunned.
"How…?"
"How did he wound me?"
"With such a vast difference in spiritual power… how did he pierce my defense?!"
"What… did that brat do…?"
Before him, two figures of Arima Shinya stood side by side.
Both stared at him calmly.
"Hey… what did you do to me?!" Kiganjo roared, with a hint of fear.
"What did I do?" murmured the Shinya on the left, thoughtful.
"I just swung my sword," replied the one on the right, with a faint smile.
"Yes… to you, that's probably exactly what it looked like."
(End of Chapter)
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