Whose Star of Death Was Shining

Black light shrouded the sky overhead.

The Star of Death was shining incessantly.

Kisaragi Akira stood atop the corpses, his pupils contracting sharply. He had never expected several Shinigami to suddenly appear at a time like this. Judging by their Shunpo speed, they were elite, too.

But a new question arose.

Hadn't these people gathered accurate intelligence before carrying out their assassination mission?

Who exactly told you that elite Shinigami could pull off an assassination?

Kisaragi Akira stood his ground, looking down on everyone around him as a vicious smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.

To survive in a brutal place like Nikkotsu District,

mercy alone was nowhere near enough!

Under Aizen's astonished gaze, the usually carefree Kisaragi Akira underwent a complete and sudden transformation. His aura changed beyond recognition.

His intense killing intent surged over the corpses like lava spewing from a volcano, raging without restraint.

An icy chill laced through it, locking precisely onto the attacking figures and making their breaths catch.

He was nothing like the Kisaragi Akira who had fought Azashiro Soya before.

Now, it was as if he had torn away that blood-soaked outer layer, revealing his truest self.

If he had to put it into words, Kisaragi now seemed more like Unohana Retsu as he had seen her that day at the General Infirmary!

Aizen composed himself. The glimmer in his eyes faded as he watched the center of the battlefield with a calm gaze.

Brilliant sprays of blood burst through the air, blooming in full.

Amid the high-pitched clang of metal striking metal, the assassins' eyes filled with undisguised shock and horror.

His Zanpakuto quivered, shifting into a vicious angle of attack at his side. As the blades crossed, they wove a net that covered everything around them!

Death Sword Style: Parting Clouds!

The blade fell, as if an invisible hand had brushed the attackers aside. Its brilliant flash, accompanied by a bone-chilling cold, sank into their bodies.

The air trembled. The blade pierced through, and several sounds of flesh tearing erupted from the deathly silence. More flowers of blood blossomed, lending the battlefield a few more strokes of beauty.

With a single strike, several figures crashed to the ground, landing heavily on the earth, slick with viscous blood.

Their eyes were wide with disbelief.

Even at the moment of death, they still couldn't believe that a mere student of the Spiritual Arts Academy could display power far beyond that of a Shinigami Seated Officer.

Takemoto Shinya's eyes were filled with fear. He gripped his Zanpakuto in both hands, its tip raised and aimed straight ahead.

He couldn't understand it, much less believe it.

The assassination should have been a sure thing, yet it had fallen apart in an instant—so quickly that even he hadn't managed to react.

Damn it, which idiot had provided the intelligence?!

What elite Shinigami could possibly be this strong?!

The flaws in their intelligence had led to the mission's total collapse.

After the first clash, he was the only one left on their side.

"Rebels?"

The tip of the blade in Kisaragi Akira's hand drooped. A drop of blood rolled off its gleaming surface and sank into the viscous blood below.

The other man fell silent, saying nothing.

"It doesn't matter if you don't want to talk."

"I'm sure the Second Division can pry your mouth open."

Kisaragi Akira had no intention of interrogating him. He prided himself on having offended no one. If he had to name something, it would be the Shinigami deserter he had killed at Shantei Temple.

And then, there was...

He suddenly recalled something. Raising an eyebrow, he asked with a hint of surprise,

"The Kuchiki Clan?"

Takemoto Shinya's heart skipped a beat at those words, but he quickly recovered, a trace of resolve flashing through his eyes.

He knew that in this situation, killing him would be effortless for his opponent.

The only reason he hadn't done it was that he wanted to get more information out of him.

As a former member of the Gotei 13, Takemoto Shinya knew the Second Division's methods even better.

They could pry out every last bit of information from anyone—even a captain.

Perhaps recalling some dark memories from the past, Takemoto Shinya shuddered. Then he glared ahead, his eyes blazing with fury.

Kisaragi Akira was approaching him slowly, blade in hand.

"Hmph! We will never yield!"

As soon as the words left his mouth, Takemoto Shinya abruptly raised his blade and drove it decisively into his abdomen.

Squish—

The blade was sharp. The motion was clean and swift.

Takemoto Shinya saw the sudden urgency on the boy's face not far away and felt a surge of satisfaction.

I may not have killed you, but at least I kept the information safe.

This mission wasn't a failure!

Kisaragi Akira walked up to Takemoto Shinya and sighed helplessly.

"Why did you have to do that?"

"The mission was almost over, and now you've made me work overtime."

A flood of blood spilled from Takemoto Shinya's mouth. He could no longer speak. Hearing the boy sigh beside him, he felt even more satisfied.

As long as I didn't let the enemy have his way, then...

Wait, why are you taking off your clothes?!

Takemoto Shinya's eyes widened. He couldn't make sense of what the boy in front of him was doing.

Kisaragi Akira had somehow produced a set of common ceremonial garments. Then, right there on the blood-soaked battlefield, he changed clothes in plain sight.

Aizen sighed helplessly at the sight.

Still, Akira was the same familiar Akira, as unreliable as ever.

A wooden table, incense sticks, a teacup, a Gohei...

Once Kisaragi Akira had everything ready, he realized that the assassin was still alive.

"Looks like you're not very good at seppuku."

"If you get the chance, you should practice more."

As he spoke, Kisaragi Akira ended all of Takemoto Shinya's remaining life with a single slash, leaving him stunned.

"Death isn't a way to escape reality."

"Especially not in front of the Nikkotsu High Priest."

The surface of the water in the teacup began to tremble. Ripple after ripple spread out, then bounced back as soon as they touched the sides of the cup.

Finally, when everything had settled once more,

faces appeared in the cup, filled with fear and disbelief.

Takemoto Shinya couldn't believe it.

Why could he still see that brat after dying? Had the boy died, too?

Just as he began to wonder,

Kisaragi Akira dipped a finger into the teacup.

In an instant, boundless agony erupted from the depths of his soul. It was as if he had been torn into countless fragments, then forcibly stitched back together.

At the same time, a familiar voice echoed repeatedly in his ear:

"Fine stuff, Wei Junjie..."

"Tell me everything, and I'll make your deaths quick."

Before Takemoto Shinya could react, his comrades had already spilled everything, as readily as beans pouring from a bamboo tube.

This inhuman torture was enough to break even a Shinigami with an iron will in an instant.

No one could endure the pain of having their soul torn apart.

After extracting information from the dead, Kisaragi Akira furrowed his brow. He had the feeling he'd overlooked something.

The warning from Danger Instinct had yet to fade, which meant the situation was still unsafe.

Kisaragi Akira's heart tightened.

Could there still be a master lurking nearby?