The Robin in a Cage

A Robin Red breast in a Cage, Puts all Heaven in a Rage. -- William Blake, Auguries of Innocence (1803)

Under the cover of night Seireitei was torn into countless pieces by the flames. In the distance came the shouts of soldiers and the crisp sound of clashing swords. The entire Seireitei was like a pot of boiling water, with conflict and chaos everywhere.

Sylvan was held by Rain as they silently swept across the night sky, the Featherlike Pattern tattoo on his right arm gleaming faintly in the firelight.

He looked down at the familiar white high walls and the scattered rooftops of the barracks below, all of which were ablaze.

"We haven't seen the dimensional damage that Jiku'a can cause yet, so maybe we can still make it." Rain flapped his wings slightly, adjusted his direction, and glided towards the top of Sōkyoku Hill.

The ruins of Sōkyoku Hill looked particularly desolate under the moonlight. The remnants of that great battle had not been completely cleared away. The shattered Sōkyoku Scaffold and broken stone pillars remained as they were after the battle, and scorch marks from the scorching of Ryūjin Jakka still lingered on the cliff face.

In the very center of these ruins, "Jiku'a" lay quietly on the stone slab, its blade straight, its hilt pointing towards the night sky. Moonlight fell upon the blade, giving it a cold gleam.

Rain released his grip, and Sylvan landed on the execution platform, his feet firmly planted on the stone slabs. He straightened up, his gaze fixed on the knife.

Sylvan looked at the knife, his brows furrowing slightly. He took a few steps forward, circled around to its side, then to its front, and finally squatted down in front of the knife, his silver pupils scanning every line on the blade up close.

"No," he said.

"What's wrong?" Rain asked, resting his head on his shoulder.

Sylvan reached out and grasped the hilt of Jiku'a's knife. His fingers curled up, his knuckles pressed tightly against the rope, and the blade slid out of the stone slab, making an extremely soft, fine friction sound.

He held the knife horizontally in front of him, supporting the blade with his left hand and gripping the hilt with his right. With a slight twist of his wrist, his brow furrowed even more as he sheathed the knife.

This is not Jiku'a.

Although the Shikai Jiku'a is also an Asauchi style, the feel is different. The weight and center of gravity of this Asauchi are completely different from the Jiku'a. It has been replaced!

Rain jumped off his shoulder and landed on the blade. After sensing it for a long time, a sharp glint flashed in his silver pupils. "Indeed, Jiku'a isn't inside, and the unique soul connection between the fragments can't be felt. Who switched the blade?"

"Oh? The knife was switched?"

A voice sounded from behind Sylvan turned around sharply.

A tall, thin figure stood at the edge of the execution platform. He wore a long, robe-like white coat with a thick fur collar, adorned with a purple scarf and secured with a ruby brooch.

Her skin was so pale it was almost transparent, and her fluffy dark brown hair was slightly blown by the night breeze, with two strands of hair lying across her nose.

What was most striking about him were his Sōkyoku long hands—the nails on his ten fingers were like ten extremely thin knives, gleaming coldly in the moonlight.

He stood there, his fingers curling and relaxing slightly, his nails clicking against each other.

"No wonder." The man tilted his head, a faint smile playing on his lips. "After all, it's hard to believe that such a powerful Zanpakuto could degenerate into Asauchi in such a short time. But—"

His gaze fell on Sylvan, his deep-set pupils slightly contracting. "Who are you, to be able to discern the authenticity of Jiku'a with just a handshake?"

Sylvan did not answer; he gripped his cane tightly, the fine lines on the cane slightly warming his fingertips.

Muramasa's gaze swept over Sylvan, landing on his black sleeveless vest. His deep-set eyes narrowed slightly. "This material... is it Shihakusho? Looks like you're Soul Reaper too."

Sylvan swung his cane and used it as a sword to slash at Muramasa.

Muramasa did not draw his sword, nor did he move his feet. He simply raised his right hand and slightly spread his five extremely long fingernails.

The tip of the sword on the cane struck his palm; his fingernails, like five extremely thin knives, clamped the tip of the sword from different angles simultaneously, producing an extremely piercing metallic scraping sound.

Then, with a flick of his wrist, he swung Sylvan's cane and himself away. Sylvan was thrown back several steps by the force, and his cane left a deep scratch on the ground before he could barely regain his balance.

"Don't resist." Muramasa a step forward and stood in front of Sylvan. "Let me see how your Zanpakuto is."

He raised his left hand, and his five fingernails suddenly lengthened in the moonlight, transforming into five extremely thin white shadows that stabbed towards Sylvan. Sylvan raised his cane to block, and the fingernails struck the cane, producing a crisp sound like metal clashing. The impact pushed him backward.

Just as those five fingernails were about to touch his chest, a golden light exploded from behind Muramasa.

"Hadō Chapter 78: Zangetsu?!"

Rain spread his wings and hovered in mid-air. Two golden Reiatsu surged out from the sides of his wings, like two extremely long blades of light, drawing two arcs in the air.

Rain's entire body spun in the air, the light blade tracing a perfect circle along its rotational trajectory—before slashing towards Muramasa's back.

Muramasa flicked his right hand backward, his five fingernails drawing five white trails in the air, precisely colliding with the two golden slashes.

The moment the light blade collided with the fingernail, sparks exploded in the night sky, and the shockwave sent all the surrounding rubble flying. Muramasa's hand trembled slightly. He looked down at his right hand and saw two very thin bloodstains on his palm, from which blood beads were slowly seeping.

"To be able to use such a high-level Kidō without chanting." He turned his head, looking at the Blue-Violet Raven hovering in mid-air. "What a peculiar bird."

His figure vanished from his spot, and the next instant, he appeared in front of Rain, his right hand outstretched, his fingernails shooting out like five white lightning bolts. Rain flapped his wings sharply in an attempt to dodge, but Muramasa was faster.

Rain's wings were entangled by fingernails, which tightened like vines, holding the entire bird in his palm.

"Rain!" Sylvan burst out from the rubble, raising his cane high.

Muramasa spread his other hand out to him, fixing Sylvan in place, his five fingernails imprisoning him like an iron cage, rendering him unable to move.

"Don't be nervous." Muramasa's voice was soft, as if soothing a frightened child. "I have no interest in life other than Zanpakuto."

He lowered his head, his deep-set pupils locking onto Sylvan's eyes, and an extremely cold Reiatsu surged from his body, like countless fine needles piercing into the depths of Sylvan's consciousness.

The world in Sylvan's eyes began to distort violently. The ruins of the execution platform, the burning Seireitei, the flames filling the sky—everything spun, shattered, and reformed before his eyes, finally turning into pure darkness.

When he opened his eyes again, he found himself sitting in a worn-out leather chair.

This is his room, the room he had before he time-traveled!

The computer screen was still lit, remaining on the main screen of Devil May Cry 5. The controller was resting next to the keyboard, the headphones were hanging in the Ikkaku the monitor, the blankets on the bed were still the same as when he left, and there were dents on the pillow where he had slept. Everything was almost exactly the same as when he left.

The only difference is the rust!

The handle was covered in dark red rust, which seeped from the gaps in the buttons and spread along the plastic casing to the connecting wires; on the computer screen, the edges of the LCD panel were also peeling off, revealing the rusted metal frame underneath; the cotton fibers on the bed sheet were mixed with patches of rust, and the edges of the dents on the pillow were dark red like bloodstains.

Everything looked like it was rusting; even the plastic handle, which theoretically shouldn't rust, was covered in rust.

"What a tiny room."

Muramasa stood by the window, his back to him. His Sōkyoku long fingernails tapped lightly on the edge of the windowsill, making a very soft, faint clicking sound.

He looked out through the rusty glass window at the outside world—an ordinary residential area with several gray apartment buildings lining both sides of the street, and streetlights casting a dim yellow glow in the night.

But at the end of this block, all the view is cut off by a huge, gray-white wall. The surface of that wall is covered with root-like textures.

Muramasa stared at the wall that blocked off the entire block. "Not only is your Inner World a cramped room, but the view outside the window is a whole block blocked by a wall?"

His fingers curled slightly, his nails clicking together with a very soft, delicate sound. "It's truly disappointing. Of all the Inner Worlds I've seen, yours is the most closed off."

He took a step forward, his deep-set pupils locking onto Sylvan's eyes.

"However, let's give it a try anyway. But can Zanpakuto truly be born in this kind of world?"

He raised his hand, and an extremely cold Reiatsu surged from his fingertips, transforming into countless extremely fine threads that probed into the depths of Sylvan's consciousness.

Those threads burrowed into his memories, searching through every experience, looking for traces of the Zanpakuto. However, the moment his consciousness reached the deepest part of Sylvan's soul, a face flashed before his eyes.

He didn't see the face clearly—the outline flashed by, as fast as an illusion, but from that outline alone, Muramasa knew it wasn't a human face!

By the time Muramasa came to his senses, he had already been expelled from his Inner World.

He staggered back a step, his pupils, deep in their sockets, contracted slightly, and his hand was still trembling slightly. The creature he held in his palm, Rain, had seized the opportunity—its wings suddenly spread open, and the patterns on its wings burst forth with a dazzling blue-white light under the moonlight.

"Hadō #91: Senju Kōten Taihō!"

Several beams of light emerged from around Rain, hovering in mid-air like floating turrets, their tips aimed at Muramasa, and then fired simultaneously.

Golden beams of Reiatsu poured down like a torrential rain, forcing Muramasa to release Rain. Rain broke free from Muramasa's grasp and landed on Sylvan's shoulder. The feathers on its chest were slightly ruffled from the struggle, but there was no fear in its silver eyes.

"While this guy's abilities have no effect on us, he's absorbed a large number of Hollows, so his direct combat ability is quite formidable."

Its voice transmitted to Sylvan's consciousness through the soul link. "We need to find a time to evacuate."

Sylvan gripped his cane tightly. "I know."

He looked up, Muramasa was emerging from the smoke and dust of Senju Kōten Taihō: "The Hadō #91, which requires no chanting, is still a bit too weak."

Muramasa looked at Sylvan, his gaze sweeping from the Rain on his shoulder to the cane in his hand. "So, because Zanpakuto are difficult to cultivate, you trained this bird instead? If that's the case, your idea is quite ingenious."

His fingers curled slightly, his nails clicking together, and Muramasa's figure disappeared from the spot.

Sylvan's pupils contracted sharply, and he instinctively raised his cane to block— Muramasa's five fingernails struck the cane simultaneously like five extremely thin knives, the impact propelling him backward. Rain sprang from his shoulder, spreading his wings.

"Bakudō #61: The Six-Staff Light Prison!"

Six beams of light shot toward Muramasa from all directions, but Muramasa simply waved one hand, and his five fingernails shattered the beams like five white lightning bolts.

Rain's second Kidō followed immediately. "Hadō #32 - Yellow Flame Flash!"

Several balls of flame shot out from between its wings, tracing arcs through the air as they flew toward Muramasa. Muramasa dodged to the side, the flames grazing his collar and leaving several scorch marks on his white robe.

He flicked his wrist, his fingernails lashing out at Rain like long whips. Rain flapped his wings sharply, barely dodging the attack.

Sylvan lunged from the side, the tip of his cane, imbued with a dark blue Reiatsu, thrusting towards Muramasa's waist.

Muramasa grabbed the cane and flicked his wrist, throwing Sylvan and the cane away together.

"The timing was good." Muramasa turned around, "But the strength is too weak. With a body like that, even the best technique is futile."

Sylvan crawled out of the rubble, a trickle of blood seeping from the corner of his mouth, but his knuckles were white as he gripped his cane, and he did not loosen his grip.

Rain circled in the air, its wings bearing several cuts and bloodstains along the edges of its feathers.

It looked at Muramasa, then at Sylvan, a hint of determination flashing in its silver eyes.

"Bakudō #75: Gochūtekkan!"

Five enormous iron pillars descended from the sky, crashing down on Muramasa and trapping him between them.

"Bakudō Seventy-Nine: Kuyō Shibari!"

Nine jet-black Reiatsu surged from Rain's body, forming nine jet-black orbs of light around Muramasa, sealing off his eight sides and center.

Muramasa frowned slightly. He raised both hands simultaneously, his fingernails flashing like ten white lightning bolts as he struck the dark orbs of light. "Without sufficient Reiatsu, even the most advanced Kidō is just an empty shell. Don't you understand this simple principle?"

Taking advantage of the opportunity, Sylvan rushed up from the side, the tip of his cane glowing with a ghostly blue light— Rain had attached Kidō to the cane through a soul connection, the tip of the sword wrapped in the flames of Hadō, and thrust it toward Muramasa's chest.

Muramasa broke free from the last of the Kuyō Shibari Techniques and tried to block the incoming attack with his right hand. But this time, the Kidō flames on his cane were not completely neutralized—the sword tip pierced his palm, and blood seeped from the wound, dripping onto the shattered stone slab. Unfortunately, it only pierced his palm in the end.

"Very good." Muramasa's voice deepened, "It seems you are not entirely without the ability to resist. However—"

His Reiatsu surged suddenly, and he slowly drew his sword. "This game should end."

With a single swing of his blade, Sylvan was completely unable to parry and was forcefully pushed away.

Rain swooped down from the sky, and all sorts of Kidō light shot out from between its wings, raining down on Muramasa.

Muramasa swung his sword with one hand, the pressure of which instantly obliterated most of the Kidō. Then, with a backhand flick, the blade lashed out at Rain.

The whip struck Rain, and the bird flew out like a kite with a broken string, crashing into a shattered stone pillar.

"Rain!" Sylvan struggled to stand up, but Muramasa had already walked up to him.

Muramasa, brandishing his sword, said, "Stop shouting! I'll send you to join him right away!"

In that instant, Rain sprang up from the rubble, several feathers on its right wing burning—not from flames, but from its own voluntary offering of its own feathers, injecting its Reiatsu to trigger the activation conditions of that Kidō.

"Hadō #90: Ittō Kasō!"

Burning feathers fell from its wings, transforming into a massive flaming blade in mid-air! That flaming blade, carrying heat capable of slicing through anything, slashed towards Muramasa.

Muramasa's pupils contracted sharply. The Flame Blade collided with Muramasa's sword, and a shockwave exploded outwards from him, creating a whirlwind on the execution platform.

Smoke and dust engulfed everything.

As the smoke and dust slowly dissipated, Muramasa stood there, his clothes slightly blackened by the high temperature of the flaming sword, and several scorch marks on his palms were emitting wisps of smoke. Sylvan and Rain, however, were nowhere to be seen.

Muramasa walked to the edge of the cliff and looked down. He saw that Rain was holding Sylvan. Its right wing was charred black and sparks were flying out from time to time. Its flight path was crooked, but it was still desperately flapping its wings and flying away.

Muramasa watched the raven, its wing still glowing with Raven, carry the thin young man further and further away.

"... Never mind." He turned around and walked towards the other side of Sōkyoku Hill. "I used up too much Reiatsu today. I need to absorb some more Hollows."

His figure disappeared at the edge of the execution platform's ruins, leaving only rubble and scorch marks. The moonlight fell once more on the Sōkyoku Hill, Jiku'a the counterfeit crow stuck in the center of the execution platform, giving it a faint, almost ironic sheen.

--Rain, holding onto Sylvan, struggled through the flames and smoke of Seireitei. The feathers on his right wing had thinned considerably, and each flap of his wing was accompanied by a very slight tremor.

Sylvan hung in mid-air, blood flowing from wounds all over his body.

"According to Muramasa, Jiku'a wasn't switched by him." His voice was very soft. "But if it wasn't him, where exactly did Jiku'a go?"

"I don't know." Rain's voice came from above him. Even though his right wing was now damaged, his mind was still clear. "But what we can confirm now is that Jiku'a is not in his hands. We can collect the fragments while searching for Jiku'a's whereabouts. Muramasa is not a match that the two of us can handle."

Sylvan didn't speak; he simply gripped his cane tighter.