Another nameless island on the vast ocean of the World of the Living. Without a word exchanged, the shinigami on site fell into a seamless rhythm.
Every attack converged on the unknown creature at the center.
"We got it!"
"Ōki, I avenged you!"
Joy rippled through the ranks—until it stalled at Higashino Shuuichi.
"Was it really that easy?"
He couldn't feel the creature's reiatsu inside the dense smoke churned up by the chain of explosions.
It looked like it had been erased—sure. But with a creature called a "dragon," Shuuichi would not drop his guard.
Because "dragon" wasn't a product of Soul Society—or, more precisely, not a creature within the jurisdiction of Soul Society's East Administration.
It came from the other half of this planet—Soul Society's West Administration.
"Dragon" was the West Administration's blanket term for the dangerous fauna of their territory.
In theory, East and West together should be the complete Soul Society.
In practice, not so much.
Even in the vaunted Great Spirit Book Corridor, said to record everything in Soul Society, there were only scattered notes about the West.
And no matter how he combed his memories, Shuuichi couldn't recall any mention of the West in the Bleach anime or manga he'd seen in his previous life.
Even the future Quincy King, the so-called all-knowing, almighty Yhwach, seemed never to have so much as considered that unseen West.
Back when he'd tagged along with Sōsuke to loaf around the Book Corridor, Shuuichi had happened upon a line about "dragons": similar to Hollows, but not the same.
Just that one, maddeningly brief sentence.
The fewer the words, the bigger the problem—he'd branded it on his mind.
And now, it paid off.
As the smoke thinned, the dragon's former position was empty—save for a transparent, triangular prism gem floating in the air, catching sun and scattering rainbow.
Shuuichi remembered: that jewel had been set into the center of the dragon's tuning-fork head.
The cheers swelled.
One bold seated officer leapt up to snatch the hovering prism into his hand.
"Ka-pu!"
A black blur dropped from the sky without warning.
"Tarō!"
A shinigami shouted—but too late.
The officer reaching for the gem had no time to dodge.
"Heisha—Kimō: Rai! (War-Craft—Stratagem: Lightning!)"
A lightning arc sliced the sky. Shuuichi threw himself between the officer and the dragon, eyes locked on the falling monster.
"Bakudō 73: Kōri · Tōzan Shō (Ice · Inverse Mountain Crystal)!"
A down-pointing triangular prism array formed; ice sheathed its planes and slowed everything within.
He'd anticipated it—reacted and executed in an instant.
Still too slow.
With eighty percent of his reiatsu sealed, he couldn't hit his true peak.
Two flat, paddle-like hands jammed up and down against the closing prism, prying it apart.
Then the tuning-fork head thrust in and burst like a shower of ribbons, lashing to butcher Shuuichi and the officer inside.
"I won't let you! Jinteki Shakusetsu! Suzumebachi! (Exterminate the enemy! Wasp!)"
Soi Fon's Zanpakutō became a hornet-tail gauntlet on her right middle finger—and then came the flash-step worthy of the "Flash Goddess," Yoruichi's legacy.
As the dragon's head split, Soi Fon reached the surface of Shuuichi's Tōzan Shō.
Her movements dragged—slowed by the field.
"So Shuuichi-sama's technique doesn't distinguish friend and foe…"
It was her first time fighting back-to-back with him; the thought flickered and vanished.
She thrust. The dragon, focused fully on its prey inside the prism, failed to respond.
A black butterfly sigil bloomed where she struck: Hōmonka (Hornet's Crest).
One more hit on that marked point from Suzumebachi—and the enemy dies on the spot.
Unless the target's reiatsu vastly surpassed Soi Fon's.
It didn't. Not even close. But the dragon was clever.
It had no language, like a regular Hollow—like a Gillian even—yet its intelligence far outstripped theirs.
To Shuuichi, it felt like…
an Arrancar.
Sssht!
Violet-black blood fell like rain.
To escape the slowing field of Tōzan Shō, the dragon instantly shed portions of its own flesh—discarding even the area Soi Fon had marked.
It felt the scent of death there and obeyed instinct.
"Shuuichi-sama, are you—ah!"
Soi Fon started to check on him—then yelped as the Tōzan Shō dropped and she fell straight into his arms.
Blushing dawn—prettiest color there is.
The other unlucky one was caught mid-air by "Bakudō 37: Tsuriboshi (Suspending Star)," which Shuuichi had flicked out to cradle him.
"It's fine, Koyō."
One arm held Soi Fon. Shuuichi's gaze pinned the dragon, now howling from the self-amputation.
From any angle, a dragon whose reiatsu hadn't even reached Adjuchas level shouldn't be performing like this. It was already far beyond spec.
"Should make an excellent test subject…"
He mused. Whether he tossed it to Mayuri as a bargaining chip—or to Sōsuke—both were good options.
"Tetsu no kabe, sōgyō no tō, shaku tetsu keika, sono ketsui ni yori, shizuka ni itaru! Bakudō 75: Hi · Gochūtekkan (Fire · Five-Post Iron Pillars)!"
Lacking the super-regeneration of high-tier Menos, the maimed dragon was a lamb on the block in Shuuichi's eyes.
No need to unseal himself—he signaled the other shinigami to buy him time and fully chanted a high-level binding.
Five red-hot iron pillars thundered down. The wounded dragon wanted to flee, but with so much of its body gone, it couldn't dance through the crossfire like before.
And a certain viper, having struck once and then vanished, had been coiled and ready all along.
"Ikorose, Shinsō! (Shoot to kill, Divine Spear!)"
The familiar silver lance streaked in. This time, the cornered beast could only watch Shinsō punch through its body.
But the expected image—the dragon pinned beneath five pillars—never came.
A lance of light tore in from beyond the far horizon, rending the sea and throwing up twin walls of water dozens of meters high.
Shuuichi's five pillars were skewered and shattered in an instant.
"Knew it wouldn't be that simple…"
He sighed and turned to face the direction that light had come from.
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