Nemu Number Seven and Ikkaku, Who Couldn't Use Bankai

"So, I needed to pose as a Tenth Division Soul Reaper and fight on the Tenth Division's behalf."

Dōsan followed close behind Rangiku as the two of them used Shunpo to make their way through the Seireitei.

This place, reserved exclusively for Soul Reapers and nobles, should have held a powerful attraction for Dōsan, but he wasn't quite in the mood to appreciate it.

Dōsan could never have imagined that his first visit to the Seireitei, and his first time wearing a Soul Reaper's uniform, would be for something like this.

On the way here, Rangiku had asked whether he was willing to take part in a battle that might cost him his life.

Dōsan hadn't refused. In fact, he had agreed decisively and firmly, but that didn't stop him from fearing the unknown.

"That's right."

Rangiku held her still-aching head, searching her mind for Captain Isshin's instructions before they left.

She remembered how long she had pestered the captain to get this field assignment.

That damned captain had actually dared to doubt her.

Now she, Rangiku Matsumoto, had proven with the facts that Captain Isshin was an excellent judge of character.

Rangiku's brain was like a juicer, desperately trying to squeeze something out of her muddled memories.

The captain had told her so many things. How had she forgotten them all?

The one she remembered most clearly was "don't drink."

"Oh, and remember, whatever you do, don't let anyone find out you're not a Soul Reaper."

"I understand." Dōsan had no reason to refuse, either way.

"And don't use any Kidō above number forty-five." Rangiku racked her brain for what little she could remember of the instructions.

Seated Officer was a position, and each division had its own standards for appointing one.

Take the currently unfortunate Second Division: anyone who could last three rounds against Soi Fon while she held back became an "acting Seated Officer." Whether or not they had the strength for it, the ranks had to be filled first.

The currently accepted benchmark for Seated Officer-level combat strength was releasing a Zanpakuto or using Kidō above number forty-five proficiently without an incantation. At its peak, the Thirteenth Division had reached that standard.

Fortunately, Rangiku had brought a Soul Reaper's uniform with her. Otherwise, Dōsan wouldn't have made it through the Hakutōmon.

Dōsan nodded. Sister Kūkaku hadn't taught him any Kidō above number forty-five anyway. He had another concern now. "Sister Rangiku, I can't hold my liquor. I didn't do anything rude while I was drunk yesterday, did I?"

Hearing him call her "Sister Rangiku" made Rangiku furious.

Dōsan touched his bruised and battered face. Both eyes were blackened, and two purplish lumps bulged from his cheeks. His body ached as though it had just been taken apart and put back together.

He couldn't remember what had happened yesterday at all.

Sister Rangiku and the others insisted he had gotten the bruises by bumping into things while drunk. Dōsan was curious how he could have bumped himself so symmetrically.

Was it possible he'd run into a Hollow and fought it after getting drunk?

With her back to Dōsan, Rangiku gave a simple answer. "No, you didn't."

The two continued toward their destination using Shunpo. They passed quite a few Soul Reapers on patrol along the way, but no one stopped them.

Word had long since spread that the Tenth Division's new acting lieutenant was an orange-haired beauty whose outfit used remarkably little fabric. The Soul Reapers they encountered merely blushed slightly as a sign of respect.

Of course, that didn't include two audacious members of the 11th Division.

"Hey, hey, hey, Big Sis Rangiku! And a kid I haven't seen before. Is this brat the one fighting in today's match? Stay and fight me first!"

Two figures suddenly cut into Dōsan's path. One had a glossy center part, and the other had a gleaming bald head.

Big Sis Rangiku!

How dare that bastard with a light bulb for a head!

Although Ikkaku usually called Rangiku that, he would never have dreamed that she was especially sensitive about forms of address today.

Dōsan also noticed the bald young man. He had seen plenty of bald men, but this was the first head he'd seen that was so bright and looked so smooth and shiny.

Had he rubbed something on his head?

Beside the bald man was a handsome man with a mass-produced center part, holding a small mirror and touching up his makeup from time to time.

Because the bald head was so dazzling, Dōsan didn't notice the center-parted man, his face hidden behind the mirror, stealing glances at him.

Ikkaku Madarame, Third Seat of the 11th Division.

Yumichika Ayasegawa, Fifth Seat of the 11th Division.

The two men gave Dōsan a very unusual impression. The fierce aura about them was almost impossible to hide.

The bald man in particular gave off an intense sense of pressure.

After training with the Shiba Clan for more than seven days and mastering Kidō, Dōsan had become quite sensitive to auras.

This bald man made almost no attempt to conceal his violent aura. He was definitely stronger than Auntie Rangiku. No, his aura was the strongest of anyone Dōsan knew!

"Sorry, Ikkaku, but we're very busy today." Rangiku sighed, looking just like a girl being pestered by a delinquent.

"Tch." Ikkaku waved a hand and, unusually, didn't press the matter. He glanced at Dōsan, and his brow twitched at the sight of his battered face. He turned to Rangiku and offered her a drinking buddy's warning:

"The Twelfth Division has already chosen its fighter. Nemu Number Seven."

"Nemu Number Seven? The only artificial soul in the history of Soul Society? But doesn't sending her into battle really violate the rules?" Rangiku's face darkened.

"That's for the captains to decide."

Ikkaku raised a hand, cutting off Rangiku's further questions. "That's enough. Yumichika and I have a mission too." He turned his gaze to Dōsan, then suddenly drew his sheathed Zanpakuto and pointed it at him. "Kid, let's have a fight to the death when I get back from my mission!"

What a strange guy.

Rangiku had more on her mind.

Ikkaku and Yumichika are partners again?

Working together, those two could solve almost any problem below Captain-level.

For a moment, as Rangiku ran, she suddenly wondered whether a mod-soul army that could take the Soul Reapers' place on high-risk missions might not be such a bad thing.

"Sister Rangiku, there was something strange about Mr. Ikkaku's aura just now."

Dōsan wasn't the especially curious type, but Mr. Ikkaku's aura was a little like his own.

Not exactly alike. It was just that Dōsan had sensed himself unconsciously releasing a special kind of Spiritual Pressure many times before. Neither Sister Kūkaku nor Ganju could say what this special Spiritual Pressure consisted of.

But today, Dōsan felt that, in terms of their auras, his and Mr. Ikkaku's actually came from the same source.

Rangiku, shaking her head at her own cowardly thought just now, didn't think much of Dōsan's question and answered directly, "Because Ikkaku can already use Bankai, but his control is too lousy for him to hide his aura like the captains."

Bankai?

Dōsan was no longer the ignorant tavern employee he had been a week ago.

Amazing!

He hadn't expected to meet such an expert right after entering the Seireitei.

Mr. Ikkaku hadn't been wearing a lieutenant's badge. He wasn't even a lieutenant.

What about Auntie Rangiku, then?

Dōsan raised his white eyebrows slightly. I have a bold theory.

Rangiku ran another couple of steps before coming out of her thoughts. She tapped her head lightly with her little fist:

"Oh! I don't think I was supposed to tell anyone that." Rangiku stuck out her little pink tongue. "You have to keep it a secret, okay?"

Rangiku was still reassuring herself that she couldn't be blamed. So many people knew about it that she'd forgotten it was a secret.

Meanwhile.

As Yumichika ran, he suddenly spoke up out of nowhere. "That kid is no ordinary brat."

Huh?

Ikkaku was baffled. He ran a few more steps before remembering who Yumichika meant.

He had only challenged the kid out of daily habit. Of course the brat was no ordinary kid. He, the great Ikkaku, would never have challenged him if he were.

But Yumichika had actually spoken up to warn him?

Ikkaku loved fighting and was prepared to die on the battlefield someday.

Speaking up to warn him was already another way of interfering in a fight, and Yumichika had never done anything so "despicable."

As Ikkaku ran, he felt inexplicably excited, so much so that his whole body grew hot.

It was just a shame that the kid whose name he'd forgotten wasn't an enemy.

And he couldn't reveal his Bankai. Otherwise, it would surely have been a thrilling battle.

Out of respect for the fight, Ikkaku didn't question Yumichika any further.

Yumichika, running beside him, was also somewhat baffled. The wind swept his bangs aside, exposing his gleaming forehead. With a hand on his sword hilt and his head lowered, he called out from his heart.

What exactly are you trying to tell me, Ruri'iro Kujaku?!