Over the ocean, two figures appeared.
One was around two meters tall, wearing a brown beret, two thick black mustaches curving over his lip, a long pipe between his teeth, and a brown plaid one-piece trench coat. On the left chest: a Pisces emblem.
The other stood not even half his companion's height, a small green low-crowned hat on his head, a dense goatee at his chin, eyes narrowed to slits. He wore an emerald liturgical robe with a zodiac badge stitched near the hem—Aries, unlike his companion.
Higashino Shuuichi didn't know these uninvited guests, but that didn't stop him from classifying them as "not friends."
"Who are you?"
The standard greeting.
Higashino Shuuichi stepped forward, placing himself before all the shinigami.
At his side, Soi Fon understood at once—she flashed away with shunpō toward the dragon howling in midair.
"That won't do. Mahō Bangō 31: Aoi Bakusen (Azure Flashburst)."
The pipe-smoker smiled, confidence tugging at the corner of his mouth. A wreath of smoke rose from the pipe—light flared, and a laser sprang to life before him.
"Whether it'll do… isn't yours to decide! Bakudō 81: Hi · Dankū (Fire · Severing Void)!"
A burning eight-petaled blossom opened before Higashino Shuuichi.
The blue beam touched the reishi wall and was snuffed out by the flames on its surface.
"A probe, then?"
Seeing the gulf between the two, Higashino Shuuichi understood—their little strike was only an appetizer.
No regrets, though. Even a lion uses full strength to hunt a rabbit. Facing a completely unknown enemy, every ounce of caution was warranted.
"Heh."
The pipe-smoker's grin widened. Only then did Higashino Shuuichi notice—the goateed man beside him had vanished.
"Hoh—so your target is the dragon?"
Higashino Shuuichi didn't need to look back to know where the goateed man had gone.
Too bad for him: the one moving to secure the dragon wasn't some ordinary reaper.
"Utsusemi (Cicada Shell). Raiōken (Thunder King Fist)!"
Bearing the full legacy of the "Flash Goddess," Yoruichi, Soi Fon slipped past the sneak attack and ghosted behind him.
Fists surged like a flurry.
Compared to Yoruichi's Raiōken that crashed like thunder, Soi Fon's was keener—less raw force, every blow carrying a slicing sting.
To Higashino Shuuichi, it always felt more like a "Fūōken (Wind King Fist)"—a nickname he'd teased under Yoruichi's eye.
The goateed man was no knockoff. He whipped out a flute from who-knows-where, raised it to his lips, and blew.
"Mahō Bangō 51: Hakugin Kyōjun (Silver Mirror Shield)!"
A mercury-like substance flowed from the flute, instantly forming a pure white mirror behind him, clear enough to reflect a figure.
Crackling peals.
The mirror shattered.
Threaded through the noise was a whisper no one noticed until too late:
"Ikorose (Shoot to kill)… Shinsō (Divine Spear)."
A silver lance streaked across the sky.
"Good timing. Mahō Bangō 44: Eikō Rōheki (Phosphorescent Prison Wall)."
The goateed man spared a glance of approval for Gin on the ground. He blew the flute again; a prismatic, glass-like lattice blossomed beneath him.
Shinsō left only a long, swelling ridge—ten meters high or more—yet could not pierce the varicolored grid.
All of this unfolded in less than ten seconds. Most shinigami hadn't even processed what was happening before the first exchange ended—
—and the advantage clearly lay with the two interlopers.
Between repelling Soi Fon and Gin, the goateed man had already found a moment to seize the dragon by the throat.
"Not bad at all, folks from the East Administration. But you've overstepped. Handling dragons isn't within your remit~"
Seeing his partner achieve the objective, the pipe-smoker was in fine spirits.
"Overstepped? So you're West Administration, then?
You trespass into the East Administration's jurisdiction to recapture a dangerous creature you lost—one that killed several of our shinigami here—
looks to me like you're the ones crossing the line."
Higashino Shuuichi watched the goateed man haul the dragon back to the pipe-smoker's side and raised an arm to stop Soi Fon from pursuing.
They weren't Hollows. Their bearing and attire screamed trained personnel, and those emblems were as distinct as the squad crests of the Gotei 13.
Half politics, then.
Whatever the outcome, as the highest-ranking Soul Society (East Administration) officer on site, he'd observe proper courtesies—no need to hand anyone a pretext later.
On any other day he would've cut the talk short. Today, he played the long game.
"You East-Administration shinigami couldn't deal with a single stray we lost track of, so a few of you died—blame your lack of skill. How's that our fault?"
The pipe-smoker swept his gaze around and pegged Higashino Shuuichi as the one in charge.
"Is that so?"
Higashino Shuuichi's smile didn't touch his eyes.
"Gin, evacuate the 13th Division personnel."
He didn't bother to lower his voice. The pipe-smoker's expression stalled, then curved back into a playful smile.
"Young man, I see what you're doing. Don't say I didn't warn you. I am Kapu Holmes, Captain of the West Administration's Development Corps.
"At my side is the West Administration Flute Corps' current vice-captain, Trombo Takne. If you want to take a swing at us, your courage is commendable—just weigh your level first."
Clearly, Kapu Holmes did not rate Higashino Shuuichi—or the lone Soi Fon still on the field.
"Heh…"
Higashino Shuuichi's laugh was cold.
"Kapu… Holmes? Two very loaded words to borrow for a name."
A joke only he would get.
"Unlucky for you—I'm not some no-name either. Nor is the one beside me."
He bared his Zanpakutō. Invisible shackles fell away. Suppressed spiritual pressure roared out like the sea.
"Soul Society, East Administration. Gotei 13, 4th Division, vice-captain—Higashino Shuuichi—on the field!"
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