Yoruichi's breath burned hot.
Every breath she drew felt like tiny needles piercing her chest.
She lowered her eyes and swiftly scanned the battlefield below.
The Punishment Force lay scattered across the ground. The entire hundred-strong unit had been defeated.
Their black, close-fitting uniforms were torn, dark blood seeping from their wounds.
But no one had died. Years of training had let these elites avoid fatal injuries at crucial moments, and their teamwork had been seamless enough.
They were badly wounded, but alive.
Her gaze rose again, locking onto the figure hovering ahead.
Visored Kuchiki Kyōka.
Purple Reiatsu wrapped around him like a viscous fog. Two red lights beneath his mask pierced through it, radiating undisguised menace.
He's too strong.
Yoruichi clenched her back teeth, her shoulder blades aching from the strain on her muscles. She had never slackened her training over the past few decades, even reaching the threshold of first-level spiritual pressure, but she still fell short against Kōga as he was now.
Was this the change the Soul Jade brought?
She had the Hogyoku at home. Combined with Urahara's headache-inducingly complicated research reports, it let her make a rough guess at what had happened to Kōga.
Powers mingled, boundaries blurred, and the Reishi of Shinigami and Hollows were forcibly fused in some unstable fashion.
But was the form before her an evolution, or merely a fall from grace?
Yoruichi clenched her fists.
The aura emanating from Kōga was far too chaotic.
The concentrated power of a Shinigami, the ferocity of a Hollow, and resentment that had simmered for decades were all churned together.
"Yoruichi Shihōin."
The voice came from beneath the mask, ethereal and echoing.
"You're no match for me anymore."
Kuchiki Kyōka tilted his head slightly, the cracks in his mask clearly visible in the moonlight.