Silver-white sword light cut through the sky as Araki and Unohana Yachiryu crashed from the 11th Division barracks down to the bustling streets of the Soul Society.
The air trembled.
The oppressive weight of their colliding spiritual pressures and lethal sword techniques turned every parried blow into a localized catastrophe. Though their blades only sought each other, the surrounding devastation told another story—walls crumbled, stone streets cracked, and everything they passed was swept into chaos like a hurricane's trail.
The battlefield widened.
Behind them, the noble blue stone pavements of the 11th Division had fractured beyond recognition. Ancient walls stood no longer—they had been reduced to ghostly ruins.
"So this is the true power of the woman called the First Kenpachi... no falsehoods here," Araki muttered as he deftly deflected a thrust.
He retreated slightly, maintaining his distance. Within his mind, strategies spun rapidly.
The original bartender poet had once described Unohana Yachiryu with two terrifyingly accurate phrases:
"Fighting is everything."
And her defining trait: "Ji" (慈 – Compassion).
Knowing this, Araki had only one plan:
Overwhelm Unohana head-on in public combat... and awaken the suppressed "compassion" buried deep in the heart of the original Kenpachi.
Somewhere far off, a grinning Fanma alien from a forgotten dimension gave Araki a spiritual thumbs-up.
"Not bad, kid. You really get it."
But Araki wasn't finished.
The stage wasn't ready.
He needed more audience.
And as their spiritual pressures grew like tidal waves, they inevitably shook the entire Soul Society.
6th Division Barracks – Saito Furuobushi
In the 6th Division's stately captain's room, a sharp-eyed loli with long violet hair sat sipping tea with a stiff expression, trying to appear more like the dignified captain she never quite succeeded in being.
This was Saito Furuobushi, the first captain of the 6th Division—eccentric, brutal, and very much not a morning person.
Today was supposed to be special.
It was the day Araki was to be officially appointed her vice-captain. A rare moment of responsibility.
But instead of Araki…
Two roaring spiritual pressures began to clash outside.
Saito's hand trembled. The tea rippled.
"Oi oi oi... can't you lunatics give it a rest for one morning?!"
She set her cup down, spiritual awareness tuning in sharply.
To ordinary Shinigami, such auras would be imperceptible. But to her captain-level senses, the energies screamed like distorted taiko drums in her ears.
She frowned.
One of the reiatsu signatures was unmistakable.
"That damn woman... Unohana Yachiryu."
"Picking a fight in the middle of Seireitei?! First thing in the morning?! Does the Gotei 13 mean nothing to her?!"
The other presence, however…
Unfamiliar.
Yet strangely familiar.
"Who the hell…?"
"That's not one of the current captains—but he's holding his own against Unohana?! That makes no sense!"
Saito's brow twitched. The teacup shattered on the floor.
"...Unohana. Yachiryu!!!"
Her patience snapped like the cracked porcelain.
If Araki wasn't going to come peacefully, she'd drag him to the 6th Division herself—with Unohana in tow if necessary.
Chaos at the Door
Just as Saito unsheathed her Zanpakutō...
"Captain! Emergency! Unohana's fighting someone outside!"
"They're already past the 11th Division and heading toward the 1st Division!!"
Her two third seats burst in breathlessly—overstepping their authority and her mood.
"Did I give you permission to enter my room, you idiots?!"
Saito's left shoe came flying off with alarming precision.
The two officers paled instantly. That shoe was legendary.
Discipline First, Chaos Later
"Papapapapa!"
In seconds, both third seats were branded with matching tattoos—marks of shame—and sent staggering out.
"You two stay here and guard the barracks!"
"I'll personally find out who this bastard is that dared to go toe-to-toe with that monster Unohana!"
With that, Saito vanished in a blur, her reiatsu flaring behind her like a comet trail.
"As you command, most respected, most terrifying captain~"
"Good luck~!"
In response to this, the two officers—Kotsubaki Sentaro and Kotetsu Kiyone—who had also received their assignments, but unlike Saito, didn't have the fortune of serving under a gentle and considerate captain like Ukitake Jushiro, forced smiles uglier than tears. With eyes full of reluctant respect, they watched their beloved captain depart.
Meanwhile...
Saito Furuobushi had finally arrived at the source of the overwhelming spiritual pressure she had been sensing—
Only to find a crowd already gathered there.
It wasn't just anyone.
The captains of the Gotei 13—the first generation of Soul Society's strongest protectors—were already assembled, watching intently.
"Yo~"
"Little Saito, you finally made it~"
"You're so slooow~"
The moment she stepped closer, a group of powerful figures turned to greet her. A man with silver short hair, striking black skin, and a mischievous grin greeted her first, teasing her in a sing-song voice.
"Bastard! Stop calling me 'Little Saito!' I'm not that much younger than you!"
Saito Furuobushi snapped immediately, her voice cracking through the air.
"Ahahaha~ Little Saito's mad~ So scary, so scary~"
But judging by his completely unconcerned demeanor, the man clearly didn't take her seriously.
"Why you! Damn you, Shihouin Chihiro! Don't think I won't beat the crap out of you!"
Her spiritual pressure spiked slightly as she half-unsheathed her Zanpakutō.
Yes—this playful, irreverent man, who might even be more mischievous than Shihouin Yoruichi herself, was none other than her ancestor:
Shihouin Chihiro, head of the great Shihouin noble house, a name that once commanded unmatched prestige in Soul Society.
It was no exaggeration to say that Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni's success in unifying Soul Society was only possible due to the political and military backing of the Shihouin family.
"Shhh~ Keep your voices down~"
Before Saito could pounce, a calm, slightly amused voice cut in.
It was a burly man with short brown hair and a cheerful grin. He was twirling a short sword and subtly gesturing toward the front of the crowd.
"What're you winking at, Oka Danjiro?" Saito said loudly, hands on her hips. "Is it that bald guy again?"
Ignoring the man's warning entirely, Saito turned her gaze forward—and instantly froze.
Standing at the forefront of the gathered captains, his commanding figure half-obscured until now, was none other than Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni himself.
Saito's voice caught in her throat.
"Ah... L-Lord Yama... You're here... Ehe..."
Like a firework suddenly dampened by rain, Saito fell completely silent, cold sweat forming at the back of her neck.
Fortunately for her, Yamamoto didn't so much as glance in her direction. His entire attention was fixed on the two warriors clashing fiercely nearby.
"Ah... I knew it would end up like this..."
Oka Danjiro—Captain of the original 5th Division—sighed helplessly, watching Saito crash and burn. He had tried warning her, after all.
"Tch. This is such a pain..."
"Why do I have to work with these rude lunatics?"
"To think this is what Soul Society relies on to maintain balance... Hopeless."
The one who spoke had long ash-gray hair and lifeless eyes. His pale face looked like it hadn't seen the sun in years, and he gave off an aura of perpetual fatigue.
He was Shijima Chigiri, captain of the 4th Division—Soul Society's medical branch. Naturally, he was also the first ever captain of the division.
"Wait a second—why are all of you here?"
"What's going on? Why hasn't anyone tried to stop the fight between those two?"
"Are you all just... watching them destroy half of Soul Society!?"
Saito finally regained her voice and quietly approached Shihouin Chihiro, whispering furiously.
"You're asking me? Who am I supposed to ask?"
Chihiro shrugged, palms raised in surrender. "When I got here, Old Man Yama was already here—just standing there, silent like a statue."
He paused and smirked slightly. "Although... I did catch a glimpse of his mouth twitching upward. I think he's enjoying the fight."
"Enjoying...?" Saito raised an eyebrow.
"Then that guy Unohana's fighting... he might actually be someone the old man knows?"
"Someone he knows?"
"I wonder what kind of fossil friend he has. Is he bald too?"
Curiosity piqued, Saito edged closer to Yamamoto and followed his gaze.
One of the two combatants was exactly who she expected—Unohana Yachiryu, the infamous first Kenpachi.
That wasn't what shocked her.
What shocked her—what froze her thoughts—was who she saw fighting against Unohana.
It wasn't some ancient bald man.
It wasn't some wrinkled hermit hidden for centuries.
No.
It was a young man—black short hair, sharp brows, confident stance. Handsome. Radiant. Someone... familiar.
Very familiar.
Too familiar.
Because the man standing toe-to-toe with Unohana Yachiryu was—
"Araki?! What the hell are you doing fighting Unohana Yachiryu?!"
Saito's eyes widened in disbelief as she shouted his name.