Devour Your Tail, Bow Clothing

Devour Your Tail, Bow Clothing

What was a Zanpakuto? Arima Shizuya had pondered this question several times and tried to summarize it.

Yet the answer had never changed.

It was like a mirror, a reflection that captured and manifested the will buried deep within a Shinigami's heart, along with the soul and truth concealed there.

'Find that other side of yourself.'

'Make contact. Talk.'

'After that... you can try to accept that version of yourself you don't find very likable.'

The process was not complicated. After all, that was what Shikai was.

Reflection, summation, and finally reconciling with one's true heart... Though for many Squad Members, it was a difficult task, one hard to accomplish.

But any Shinigami who served as a Vice-Captain or seated officer had mastered this stage of power to some extent.

Arima Shizuya's spiritual pressure had already reached the level of Seventh Level Spiritual Pressure.

That meant the boy met the necessary requirements—he had sufficient reserves and sound stamina to receive even greater power.

But therein lay the problem.

At that bewildering crossroads, Arima Shizuya had wandered for who knew how long, yet he had never seen the "thing that represented his heart."

Had he not done enough?

Or was the other side hinting at something, indicating that Arima Shizuya lacked something and was therefore unwilling to appear?

Or perhaps, deep in his subconscious, he was actually the sort of person with a rather nasty sense of humor, simply wanting to make things difficult for himself?

All kinds of thoughts swirled through his mind, leaving Arima Shizuya troubled for a long time.

And now, in this instant of pause.

Arima Shizuya finally seized upon that once-in-a-lifetime spark of inspiration and understood its true meaning.

The crossroads was not a maze meant to trap him.

It was a vessel, Arima Shizuya's Hollow image, and the place where his true form resided.

In other words, he had not been rejected. From the very beginning, he had been standing atop the answer without realizing it.

Circling endlessly, wandering without end. Repeating this seemingly meaningless act over and over...

Just like the dreams Arima Shizuya had experienced these past days.

Yes.

Your name was...

'Devour Your Tail, Bow Clothing.'

He quietly chanted the name of his blade within his heart.

The power hidden within Arima Shizuya began to circulate at that moment, surging within his chest.

Yet the process of releasing his Zanpakuto was unexpectedly smooth...

It could even be described as "calm."

As though a jokingly tossed stone had been thrown into an ancient lake a hundred meters deep.

The ripples it stirred, the waves it set swaying, were quickly erased, until the lake returned to its deep and deathly stillness.

Something had changed.

And yet, something seemed unchanged.

Guiganjo Kenpachi seemed to sense something. His brow furrowed unconsciously, but he made no further concrete reaction.

No matter. It was only strength as weak as the fluttering wings of a mosquito.

It could not threaten him in the slightest.

Guiganjo had always trusted his instincts. After all, that was how he had attained his current position as captain.

And the truth was indeed so.

Guiganjo's Zanpakuto came crashing down.

His Spiritual Might was abyssal, tearing through the wind... and should have struck Arima Shizuya squarely in the face.

Yet the other man responded with an odd technique, moving later but arriving first.

Arima Shizuya drew the Zanpakuto in his hand sideways, positioning it horizontally before himself.

Clang!!! The piercing explosion of metal striking metal was always difficult to endure.

Guiganjo was no exception.

He clicked his tongue instinctively, clearly dissatisfied with the result.

He had originally intended to split the other man in two on the spot, like a watermelon.

Yet not only had he failed to do so, the feel of the strike had been exceedingly strange.

He could tell that his attack had not landed where it should have.

No.

Rather... this guy had blocked at far too precise a spot, right at the weak point of his exertion.

Was it a coincidence?

Though the effeminate bastard before him had stopped his attack, his expression had also dimmed somewhat.

It was no feint, nor was there anything flashy about it.

The attack had definitely been effective; its effect was simply far weaker than expected.

Then the problem was simple and straightforward—if he had decided to crush a bug, whether it took two hits or three made no difference.

The result would not change.

Realizing this, Guiganjo did not hesitate. The instant he slightly lifted his blade, his left leg swept swiftly toward Arima Shizuya along with the turn of his waist.

There was nowhere to retreat, nowhere to evade.

At this critical moment, Arima Shizuya merely pressed his lips tight and assumed a perfectly standard curled posture.

His lower leg lashed out like a whip, carrying the force of a howling gale.

The kick struck Arima Shizuya squarely in the side of the waist, sending the boy flying like a toy and smashing him hard into the ceiling above.

His back slammed against the wooden framework. Unable to disperse the force, his whole body was uncontrollably wedged between the boards.

Arima Shizuya's face twisted into a grimace. He could feel an intense, stabbing pain in his waist... It seemed even his ribs had been injured.

The attack was still effective, yet Guiganjo's expression grew increasingly impatient.

Accustomed to killing and street fights.

Guiganjo was like a butcher dismembering an ox; he could clearly tell whether his attacks were truly effective.

But now, he found it increasingly strange—his kick just now had felt as though it had struck a lump of cotton, leaving him with the sensation of having nowhere to exert his strength.

The first time could have been an accident. The second absolutely could not be coincidence.

So what exactly had the other side done? "You little brat."

The information at hand was insufficient to make sense of it, and Guiganjo was not good at thinking in the first place... After a brief hesitation, he decisively made his choice.

No matter what, killing the guy first could never be wrong.

The next strike.

There would absolutely be no possibility of missing or going astray.

He would use his erupting spiritual pressure to crush this annoying bug completely in one go.

But at Arima Shizuya's side, his thoughts were continuously spreading and expanding, as though he had entered some profound state.

To the point that even he briefly ignored the pain in his body.

'The situation has changed. The injury to my ribs will affect my movements.'

'I need to make adjustments...'

An unnamed light flickered in Arima Shizuya's pupils.

In his vision now, the world had lost its original colors and become nothing but black and white.

The stark, simple contrast filtered out superfluous information, allowing his attention to settle where it needed to be focused.

And Arima Shizuya saw them.

A full four Azure Blue bands of light were rapidly drifting outward in every direction, with him at their center.