June in Seireitei burned under a hard sun.
Maybe it was the talk with Sōsuke and the uncertain path ahead. Maybe it was the thought of what he had to face next. Either way, Shuuichi was in a foul mood.
He hated gambles like this—especially when he knew that once Sōsuke fused with the Hōgyoku, a cleaner, safer Hollowfication would be trivial to produce. Something that should have been safe and within reach had turned into a prize he'd have to snatch from the fire at great risk.
It felt awful.
Worse came after. When he returned to the 4th Division barracks, the mix of pleased yet embarrassed faces said enough. Just as he tried to salvage his mood, he was told that because he'd been missing for five years, his lieutenant's seat had been taken back by Seinosuke Yamada.
"Seinosuke Yamada…"
Irritation spiked. Shuuichi strode toward the lieutenant's lounge to reclaim the post—hand already lifting to push the door—
—and his reason finally kicked in.
"Wait. Isn't this… good?"
No lieutenant. No 4th Division status. Which meant—he was free.
Thanks be to Kenpachi Kuruyashiki of Hell. The blessing took.
He spun on his heel and left the 4th, aiming straight for the 9th Division.
First, sweet-talk a vice-captaincy out of Kensei. Then find a squad with a soft-handed captain and win a captain's haori by challenge.
If he wanted to raise the odds that Kisuke would "rescue" him later, a captain's seat looked much better than a lieutenant's.
But the 4th wasn't a place you just came and went.
He hadn't even cleared the eaves when a familiar voice sounded behind him.
"Welcome back, Shuuichi."
"Taichō… Retsu?"
He turned, sheepish. It was the kind, big-sister taichō herself.
"Won't you come sit with me a while? I hear your five years were… quite eventful~"
Retsu's voice was soft, as if to an old friend.
"Of course, Retsu-taichō."
Shuuichi smiled the textbook smile.
He followed her to their private room.
A medium underground training hall.
"I told you: I don't mind if you vanish, nor do I care what you do out there. I only want this—every time you return, bring me a new surprise~"
The moment they stepped belowground, Retsu's presence changed.
Shuuichi knew he wouldn't dodge this fight. He took his place opposite her and shifted into ready stance at once.
Unlike pure battle-gluttons like Kenpachi, Retsu—after years of being "trained" by Shuuichi—now held a very strong, very personal desire to cut him down.
If he couldn't satisfy her, she might very well stop holding back.
He burst in with a tight close-quarters slash—his favorite opener, one of his most polished sequences.
Also one of the ones Retsu knew best.
Her blade came up easily to catch it. Her eyes slid to the bandage on his blade.
"Shihōin family binding cloth?"
As a centuries-old "antique," she recognized it at a glance.
"Getting distracted in a fight is taboo, taichō!"
Shuuichi pounced on that split second, unleashing the kenjutsu Kenpachi Kuruyashiki had taught him—Bungetsugiri (Dividing Moon Cut).
A razor line of pressure, reiatsu (spiritual pressure) drawn into a thread, carved a single straight blood-line across Retsu's chest.
"Kuruyashiki's Bungetsugiri…"
Rather than shock, Retsu laughed.
"Looks like you went somewhere impressive this time, Shuuichi-kun~"
Her words barely fell when she vanished—no sound, no wind.
Shuuichi only realized when all feeling left his arms. She was behind him—one Zanpakutō, one dagger—and in a breath both arms came off.
Clearly, that last technique had stirred something in her. She'd gotten a little serious by accident.
"That guy Kuruyashiki taught you only this much?"
She taunted.
The gentle, stately captain was nowhere to be seen.
Shuuichi didn't waste air. A snapping roundhouse was his answer.
A silver arc fell. As expected, his left leg came off.
But both his arms had already fully grown back.
If he squeezed his stamina to the limit, he could even regrow them the instant they were severed—but the cost would be several times the norm. Not worth it.
This speed was enough.
Right foot planted. His newly grown right hand scooped the Zanpakutō from the floor. The stone split underfoot.
"Nadegiri (Clean Sweep)!"
After watching Genryūsai's Nadegiri with his own eyes, Shuuichi's grasp of the cut had climbed another tier.
Ki and kiai braided with momentum; reiatsu crushed and released to the limit.
Held in one stroke, loosed in one stroke, ended in one stroke.
Seeing the familiar arc, Retsu's smile deepened.
"That's it, Shuuichi!"
She didn't even think to evade.
Centuries ago, she had fallen to this very pressure—this very Nadegiri.
She'd handed the move to Shuuichi with that memory embedded in it.
She raised her blade to meet him.
This time, she wouldn't lose.
Steel smashed steel. The reinforced chamber—built to stomach captain-class battles—nearly tore open at the seams.
When the dust settled, Retsu had indeed stopped the stroke that carried Genryūsai's essence.
But what about Kuruyashiki's?
Retsu looked down at the gaping ruin blown open in her abdomen, knees dipping—only to be caught by Shuuichi's hands.
He met her gaze, clear-eyed. "Taichō, even though you humored me to the end—no release, and you never let your reiatsu surge far past mine—this time I did win. Right?"
Retsu's answer was a bright smile. "You don't get to decide that, Shuuichi-kun. The fight isn't over~"
Even so, in her eyes he saw it—the acknowledgment of how far he'd come. Maybe from today, Retsu truly began to look forward to the day he would defeat her for real.
Ten minutes later, the old scene returned. Shuuichi lay on the floor, stamina bled dry.
"Tell me—the move you used to injure me before?"
Standing over him, Retsu asked.
"Its name is Yakuryū (Flow Constriction), taichō."
Both of them smiled.
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