An unmarked island on the open ocean of the World of the Living.
Four people remained, tension crackling between them.
Once Higashino Shuuichi removed his limiter, this fight could no longer be avoided.
From his position, there was never a world where he let two agents of the West Administration come and go as they pleased.
"Hoh—now this is interesting."
Kapu Holmes tasted the density of Shuuichi's full reiatsu. His voice stayed confident, but the weight in his eyes gave him away.
"Hadō 63: Hi · Raikōhō (Fire · Thunder Roar Cannon)!"
Once battle began for real, Shuuichi didn't waste words.
Seize initiative. This time, he'd probe the man bold enough to carry the name "Kapu."
That name carried serious weight—somewhere else.
"Mahō Bangō 51: Hakugin Kyōjun (Silver Mirror Shield)!"
Kapu thrust out his left hand. A flowing, silver-white liquid rose and froze into a light buckler.
Shuuichi's Raikōhō—amplified by his Zanpakutō—hammered it in a riot of sparks and blasts, yet left no mark.
Compared with the mirror shield Trombo Takne conjured earlier (which Soi Fon had webbed with cracks using her so-called "Wind King Fist" while under a limiter), Kapu's shield was clearly superior.
And—
Shuuichi frowned. As Kapu blocked, he leaned in and seemed to grip the shield with his right hand.
"Mahō Bangō 24: Seijūn Tōsha (Sacred Lance Throw)!"
A pale silver spear blossomed in Kapu's left hand; with a cast, it shot at Shuuichi like a bullet.
So their "magic" maps to our kidō. Lower numbers, lower power. Our reiatsu gap isn't large; at only No. 24…
In an instant, Shuuichi chose.
Sever the lance—close in—at knife range, chain high-level Bakudō and Hadō.
"Fuzan (Caress-Cut)!"
As planned, his blade smashed the spear aside; his body angled into shunpō to blitz to Kapu's face—
"Too young."
Kapu smiled, a black ring of smoke leaving his pipe.
"Mahō Bangō 109: Renkē—Seijūn · Hakugin Kyōjun (Link—Sacred Lance · Silver Mirror Shield)!"
Before the words finished, black smoke became a lacquer-dark chain, bridging the lance to Kapu's shield.
In a blink, the "easy to cut" spear turned iron-bastioned—indestructible.
Shuuichi had no time to adjust; the spear punched through his right shoulder.
"Before I take a real interest in you, kid—scurry home—"
Kapu's victory quip froze on his face.
Something he shouldn't see on a shinigami was happening.
"High-speed regeneration?"
The half of Shuuichi's torso the lance had skewered was knitting shut at speed.
Shuuichi didn't answer. The probing was over; time for real steel.
"Heisha—Bankai! War-Craft—Smiling Blade!"
All defense thrown away for pure offense—nothing fit that mode better than the swordwork he'd learned under Retsu.
Whatever Kapu used, Shuuichi would eat it and answer in kind.
Very quickly, Kapu found the problem.
In this state, Shuuichi was a hedgehog. Hurt him, and an equal bite came back, guaranteed.
If that were all, trade-for-trade would be simple. But Shuuichi carried a bug: that regeneration. It made things… sticky.
Fortunately, through the grappling grind, Kapu sensed Shuuichi's stamina flagging.
"I knew it—no ability without a seam. Kid, I've found your weakness!"
Blocking another slash with the mirror, Kapu lifted a scar-mapped right arm to the sky.
"Release Code 1647—Valley of Dread!"
Mountains heaved up. A dark curtain smothered the sky. Nameless wails poured through the gorge.
Rain, trees, stone—everything seen and unseen became formless pressure, eroding Shuuichi's body without pause.
"Too bad. Dying in my Valley of Dread will make a fine epitaph for your stone."
Outside the sudden terrain, Kapu spared him a moment of mourning.
No dragon had ever lived through this valley. He doubted Shuuichi would be the first.
Even with that irregular regeneration, the boy's stamina wasn't infinite.
"Seems you're a cold-blooded shinigami."
On the other side, Trombo Takne smiled across at the woman matching him step for step.
"No—Shuuichi-sama… will not lose!"
Soi Fon's answer was iron.
Trombo shook his head at her innocence.
She didn't know what her ally was facing: Kapu Holmes, one of the West's strongest captains in centuries. He could've helmed the Saber Corps; he chose the Development Corps for the research.
As if answering Soi Fon's faith, five dragon-roars split the gloom inside the valley.
Sky split and earth cracked. Sun speared through a rift in the clouds, washing over Shuuichi, still standing with his blade as a crutch.
"…Hadō 99: Gorin Tensei (Five Dragons Converge to Annihilate)!"
Breath tearing in his chest, one eye narrowed against the light, Shuuichi lifted his gaze to a surprised Kapu in midair.
He'd almost fallen to this West captain.
"Impressive. Are all East-Administration vice-captains like you?"
Kapu didn't press the attack. He'd already felt it: a monstrous reiatsu had entered the field.
Its owner landed before Shuuichi, first offering him an apologetic look of thanks, then turning to Kapu.
"This meaningless battle ends here."
The voice was weak; the tone allowed no refusal.
"Oh? Is that so? I agree. Trombo—take the dragon. We're leaving."
Seeing the "13" stitched on the captain's haori and deciding there was no profit left, Kapu didn't argue. His eyes lingered on Shuuichi a beat longer.
"I like you, kid. If the East gets too small for you, come west. You'll do well."
He'd seen it in the boy's eyes: ambition.
Power like that, stuck as a vice-captain?
Kapu's instincts said this one would someday make waves.
At the bald-faced poaching, Jūshirō offered no reply. As Trombo turned with the dragon, Jūshirō drew once.
The creature that started all this conflict dissolved into spirit particles and returned to the earth.
"You two may leave. It stays."
Jūshirō's calm never wavered.
"Captain Holmes!"
Trombo spun, furious—Kapu's arm barred him.
"Hahahaha. Very well, East Administration—I'll remember this."
Kapu hooked Trombo and flew east without a backward glance.
To him, it had been a test dragon. Data mattered, but not enough to sour relations with an East captain whose depths were unknown.
Shuuichi dropped to one knee, watching Kapu vanish over the sea.
Two brutal fights in a single year carved the truth into him.
Yes, he'd more than doubled his reiatsu ceiling, and he'd found a path to keep raising it—but his Zanpakutō's kit lacked a brawler's core: all trick, no grind. If the enemy solved the trick, his real fighting power collapsed.
Even the Spirit King's nail and the "infinite regeneration" meant nothing without stamina to feed it.
Retsu that night, and Kapu today—both had handed him the same lesson.
Zanjutsu or hakuda wouldn't fix this in the short term.
As for kidō, the top-end spells he knew were too constrained to land cleanly in live combat.
"I hadn't planned to risk it this soon…"
Shuuichi looked up at the sky.
Months ago, he'd looked that way and warned himself not to covet that place.
Not a year later, he meant to ignore that warning.
Because Kapu Holmes had made it plain: in this world, lethal danger never arrives on a schedule.
Even a cheerful cookout could be the end.
Fortune had smiled once. She wouldn't twice.
Waiting forever for the "safest" moment to grasp power was a pretty thought—like soap bubbles. Touch it, and it pops.
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