Black Rope Heavenly Punishment, Meō!
Nearly a thousand years had passed—long enough for the Gotei 13 to evolve from a band of assassins into a structured military organization dedicated to balance and order. Each division bore its own duties when Seireitei came under attack.
Division 11 fought, seeking the enemy to either slay or be slain.
Division 4 healed, dispatching teams to rescue the wounded unless ordered otherwise.
Division 7's duty was to guard Division 1 and the Central 46.
Beyond that, no other divisions would intervene. Trust in the Captain-Commander—and fear of Central 46's paranoia—kept them at bay. Only the Seventh Division moved when the heart of Seireitei was threatened.
"Tetsuzaemon, lead the men in the rear. I'll go on ahead."
Komamura Sajin vaulted across rooftops, his massive frame surprisingly swift. He had already memorized the locations of spirit particle traps, stepping directly across them without hesitation.
A tile cracked underfoot. He landed in a broad street, his eyes narrowing beneath the iron helm.
Someone sat waiting on a railing ahead.
A handsome man with long black hair draped over his shoulders. A blue kimono, not Shihakushō. A silver spear resting casually in his grip.
Komamura's tone was grave. "You chose to face me openly, not with ambush. That is commendable. Tell me your name."
The stranger leapt lightly to the street, spear over his shoulder. "Minamoto no Yoshitsune. From your voice, you seem upright. Then why hide your face?"
Komamura's deep voice did not waver. "I was born with an appearance the world despises. A mask spares others their revulsion."
He recalled his years of exile, hunted for his form. The friend he gained in that darkness—Tōsen Kaname. The one who saved him—Genryūsai Yamamoto, who had judged him not for his face but for his soul. Komamura had sworn his life in repayment.
"Enough words," he declared. "I am Komamura Sajin, Captain of the Seventh Division. If you will not stand aside, then prepare yourself."
His Zanpakutō slid free, spiritual pressure bursting outward. He swung.
The strike thundered forward like a speeding train.
Yoshitsune whirled his spear, catching the blast with its tip. The ground split beneath his feet as he staggered back seven steps before deflecting the strike aside. Walls and homes behind him shattered in the redirected force.
Komamura's eyes narrowed. Few could withstand such power unaided. But he was not one to waste time.
"Bankai! Kokujō Tengen Myō'ō!"
Crimson reiatsu erupted. The ground trembled as colossal hands pushed upward. Behind Komamura rose a towering armored giant, horns curved like a demon's, a red veil obscuring its face. It loomed twenty stories tall, blade gleaming in its grasp.
Yoshitsune's eyes hardened. "How monstrous… yet how cumbersome."
Speed would be his answer. He surged forward, feet gliding across shattered stone as if on open plains.
The giant's sword fell.
A forty-meter steel edge split the sky, its descent like a collapsing mountain. Yoshitsune barely leapt aside as the ground convulsed. Entire rows of buildings disintegrated in the shockwave. Dust roared outward in a storm.
Again the blade swept. Again Yoshitsune evaded, nerves strung to the limit. Each swing was slower than the last. There—a gap, an opening. His only chance.
He darted in.
But instead of the sword, the giant's massive palm struck.
BANG!
Yoshitsune's body cratered the earth, dust and rubble spraying skyward.
Komamura sheathed his blade. Behind him, the giant vanished into spirit particles.
"Wait…"
A blood-soaked figure rose unsteadily from the pit. Yoshitsune's vision swam, but his eyes still burned. "I haven't… lost."
"You no longer have the strength to fight." Komamura turned to leave.
"I'm not dead yet."
Yoshitsune's broken Zanpakutō trembled in his hands. He thought of the life denied him, of Nobunaga who had given him purpose when all seemed lost. His voice rang clear despite the blood in his throat.
"I have no regrets in this life!"
With the last of his reiatsu, he thrust forward.
Komamura did not raise his blade. The broken steel barely grazed his chest before Yoshitsune's eyes dimmed and his body collapsed.
Komamura knelt, closing the warrior's eyes with a heavy hand. "I will remember your name, Minamoto no Yoshitsune."
Then he rose, turning toward the Central 46. He, too, bore someone worth his life's loyalty.
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