Dōsan, Bankai?

It was only an ordinary neurotoxin, and with the help of his highly proficient Kaidō, Dōsan gradually regained feeling in his right arm.

Relying on his absolute advantage in Shunpo, Dōsan continued to control the fight, taking even greater care to keep Nemu from getting close.

Nemu had finished injecting her Flesh Supplement as well, but her carefully laid plan had been easily undone by a single Kaidō. Nemu Kurotsuchi was no happier about it, and gloom spread across the girl's lovely face.

Nemu tried the same trick again, repeatedly attempting to close in, but Dōsan would not give her another chance.

"Hadō #31: Shakkahō."

The fireball came hurtling toward her. Nemu dodged desperately, but the blast still injured her. Seeing that it worked, Dōsan chose to use his overwhelming advantage in Shunpo to keep his distance and wear her down with a barrage of Kidō.

As Dōsan's Spiritual Pressure dwindled, Nemu took hit after hit. Her clothes were in tatters, and her body was covered in wounds.

The fight had returned to where it had begun, with Dōsan holding a one-sided advantage.

Nemu's poor Shunpo made it difficult for her to dodge Dōsan's rapid, highly accurate Kidō barrage.

Yet she got back up again and again!

Dōsan did not understand what had kept her fighting this long when she should have fallen long ago, but he had no intention of trying to talk her down, nor did he feel the slightest pity.

As the same sequence continued to repeat itself, Dōsan's own problem emerged.

He did not have enough Spiritual Pressure.

Dōsan frowned. His brows had been knitted since the start.

Nemu's tenacity had exceeded Dōsan's expectations. She had taken several direct hits from Kidō above number thirty and could still get back up.

And Dōsan could not tell whether Nemu's stamina had reached its limit.

I can't keep this up!

I'm not running Nemu around. I'm wearing myself out.

Dust rose beneath his feet, and with a "puff," Dōsan pushed his Shunpo to its limit and closed in again. His expression was solemn as he watched every part of Nemu.

This woman's methods of attack were strange. Even though he was still suppressing Nemu without taking a hit, Dōsan had felt uneasy all along.

Several mid-numbered Kidō had failed to finish her, and his Spiritual Pressure was showing signs of running dry.

I can't drag this out.

Close in, hit her square in the face with a Shakkahō, and end the fight.

Nemu was visibly flustered by Dōsan's sudden, uncharacteristic rush.

Only when Dōsan drew close did Nemu hastily pull both hands into her sleeves and thrust them back out. She held eight syringes between her fingers and flung them like darts, but her aim was off.

Dōsan flashed in front of Nemu, only to see her reach out to strike him with her palm again.

Again?

Nemu was repeating her old trick.

Dōsan did not let his guard down, but he chose not to retreat. If his Kidō landed, she would certainly be unable to continue fighting.

[Dan... ger.]

There it is again.

That voice.

A voice sounded in his mind, like a hallucination.

It was like a dream, and there was also the faint, gray-mist-like Spiritual Pressure emanating from his own body.

There was no time to hesitate. Nemu Kurotsuchi was right in front of him, and the syringes were close at hand too.

Dōsan ultimately chose to trust the voice in his head—or rather, the strange voice had an innate sense of familiarity and closeness to him.

But from what he could see, the syringes Nemu had just thrown blocked every avenue of retreat. If he tried to dodge, he would be hit in at least two places.

Thick mist rose from the green liquid in the syringes. He did not have to look to know it was nothing good.

Nemu's slender hand was just as close. Dōsan had to make a choice!

Damn it.

His ability to use Kaidō had already been exposed. This injection surely would not be so easy to withstand.

A thin layer of gray mist spread out around Dōsan.

Nemu's hand, showing no sign of anything unusual, seemed terrifying to Dōsan.

In the end, Dōsan chose to follow his instincts and did not take Nemu's inexplicable attack.

Stopping himself in midair, Dōsan used his superb control over his body to evade Nemu's palm.

The price was a syringe embedded in each of his right arm and right leg.

"Hey, was that just now...?" Cold sweat suddenly broke out on Soi Fon's forehead. She could no longer maintain her proud expression. "Bankai?"

Lieutenants like Rangiku might not have sensed it.

But the captains who had already mastered Bankai could clearly sense the aura of Dōsan's Spiritual Pressure change abruptly in that instant.

Strange as that aura was, judging by the quality and level of the Spiritual Pressure, there was no doubt that it belonged to a Bankai.

It was a qualitative change in Spiritual Pressure.

Just as Ikkaku wanted to conceal the truth about himself, everyone except Zaraki could sense the high-grade Spiritual Pressure spilling from him. The captains simply said nothing.

"It's not Bankai," Shunsui Kyōraku, a captain of considerable seniority, said, a gleam flashing in his eyes. "That's the voice of a Zanpakuto. In that instant, the boy before us either entered his sword's world or heard its voice."

"It's just that this rarely happens while a Soul Reaper is still at the Shikai stage, so many consider it a sign of entering the realm of Bankai."

Beside him, Isshin Shiba appeared calm and collected, but inwardly he was cursing. I understand all that.

Then where's Dōsan's sword?

But I don't care. Dōsan Hanyū is an ordinary Soul Reaper, below Seated Officer level. I said so.

If you have a problem with that, go find Rangiku.

Having finished his explanation, Kyōraku adjusted his straw hat out of habit. "Young people these days really are remarkable. Perhaps in less than ten years, the Thirteenth Division will have another captain.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch the boy's name just now..."

"Han—" Isshin slapped Rangiku aside. "His name is Jūzaburō Minamoto."

"Jūzaburō Minamoto!"

Soi Fon nodded proudly. Her aloof expression made it seem as though she thought nothing of Dōsan Hanyū, but deep in her heart, she carefully wrote the name down in a notebook.

Soi Fon's eyes flickered. It was unlikely she could poach him as a Seated Officer, but what if she brought him over as a lieutenant?

"Hey, Captain Isshin, are you sure this is the kind of fighting strength an ordinary Soul Reaper should have?" Kurotsuchi asked mockingly, turning his head.

"Well..." Isshin was speechless. He was a victim too. How could he have known Dōsan would be this impressive, or that he would fight so viciously against a delicate young girl?

But it was not really that Dōsan was particularly strong.

Why was Nemu Number Seven, Nemu Kurotsuchi, so weak? She was no match at all for the previous members of the Artificial Soul Corps.

"On that point, I have a question for Captain Kurotsuchi as well."

Unohana spoke again, explaining the technique that none of the captains had seen through just now.

"If I'm not mistaken, that last strike was an attack on the soul, wasn't it? A technique that cuts away part of your own soul and drives it into the enemy's body."

"Even if it hurts the user nearly as much as the enemy, that's not an ability a Seated Officer should have either, is it?"

She cuts away her own soul and drives it into the enemy?

What a terrifying ability. Can it kill in one hit?

The captains were somewhat surprised. With an ability like that, and a little cultivation of her Spiritual Pressure, she could easily be a lieutenant-level fighter!

Has Kurotsuchi already become this capable?

"Tch." Kurotsuchi turned his head away and ignored her. Annoying old hag.

With that, the battle was back on an even footing.

Sasakibe, acting as referee, showed no intention of interrupting the match either.

Dōsan opened up the distance again and stared ahead at Nemu.

She's too hard to deal with!

First, he had to find out exactly what drugs had been in the two injections he had just received.

Huh? She seems to be saying something.

Dōsan seemed to see Nemu opening her mouth. Her tone was strange, and each word seemed to drag on for more than ten minutes.

The sounds reached Dōsan's ears, but he could not make out a thing.

"You had a perfect opportunity earlier. If you'd used Shakkahō directly on my head instead of Tsuzuri Raiden, the fight might already be over.

"Of course, the chance was very small. As long as more than fifty percent of my cellular tissue survives, I have a chance to turn things around."

Nemu was in no hurry. She spoke slowly, as though bidding a friend a final farewell.

Her wooden sandals creaked against the charred battlefield. Nemu staggered forward, one step at a time, until she stood in front of Dōsan, then reached out and gently pressed her hand against his chest.

"You can't hear anything now, can you? I'm grateful for your kindness, but I have a reason I must win!

"It's over."