Gillian

That night

Thirteenth Division headquarters

Footsteps came from the entrance to the courtyard.

Shuichi recognized them.

When Chojiro Sasakibe entered, he carried a document in his hand.

Without exchanging pleasantries, he walked straight to the pavilion and placed the document on the tea table beside the blank forms.

"Kaimachi."

Sasakibe's voice was quiet, but every word was clear. "The Soul Reapers stationed in the World of the Living reported the appearance of a Menos Grande. Kaimachi has already become a no-man's-land. The stationed Soul Reapers can't handle it and require a captain to act."

Shuichi lowered his gaze to the document. The word "Urgent" was written on the cover, the ink still fresh.

Sasakibe continued, "The Head Captain has ordered all Soul Reapers stationed in the World of the Living to be assigned to the Thirteenth Division. The Hell Butterflies have already delivered the notice. There are seven hundred in total."

Shuichi's finger paused over the words "seven hundred."

He raised his head and looked at Sasakibe.

"I'll handle it."

Sasakibe nodded without saying anything more. He turned and left, his footsteps gradually fading until the courtyard fell silent again.

Shuichi sat in the pavilion, staring at the document for a long time.

Kaimachi. A no-man's-land. A Menos Grande.

The Senkaimon's Reishi light tore open a crack in the darkness. Shuichi did not hesitate and stepped inside.

The Senkaimon's exit opened at the crown of a large tree.

Shuichi landed on its thickest branch. The bark cracked faintly beneath his foot, but he did not immediately jump down. Instead, he stood high above and surveyed the area first.

The night was dark, but a Soul Reaper's vision was unaffected.

Kaimachi sprawled beneath him. Buildings had collapsed, streets had split apart, and several fires still flickered in the darkness, as though the ruins themselves were still breathing. There were no people, no lights, no sounds—not even the bark of a dog.

The scent of Hollows was so thick it could not be dispersed.

Its enormous height made the surrounding ruins look like a child's building blocks. Its body was pitch-black, and a white bone mask covered its face. Beneath that mask, two hollow eyes stared blankly ahead.

Gillian.

Shuichi had read that name in the general knowledge files.

The lowest rank among Menos Grande—but "lowest" was relative. To ordinary Soul Reapers, a Gillian was a disaster. One strike could destroy an entire street, and its Reiatsu was enough to make inexperienced people's legs go weak.

This was Shuichi's first time seeing a Menos Grande.

It was also his first time coming alone to the World of the Living to deal with a Hollow incident.

Standing atop the tree, Shuichi spread out his Reiatsu perception.

It was an ability he did not use often. In the Soul Society, Reiatsu perception was more of a skill that intelligence personnel needed to specialize in.

His Reiatsu spread outward like an invisible net, covering every corner of Kaimachi.

The Gillian's Reiatsu was immense, so immense that it could be seen even without sensing it, like a black flame burning on the ground. Yet strangely, aside from the Gillian and several other gigantic Steel-Skinned Hollows, there were no other Hollows.

That was wrong.

The general knowledge files had made it very clear: a Gillian did not appear alone.

Where it appeared, there would inevitably be a Hollow disaster. Dozens or hundreds of Hollows of all sizes would swarm in like a locust plague, devouring everything.

But Kaimachi had none.

Shuichi's perception continued expanding outward, passing through the ruins, the scorched fields, and the broken roads, reaching farther and farther away.

His Reiatsu silently spread through the night sky, like a stone tossed into still water, sending ripples outward in widening circles.

In the distance, those Reiatsu ripples struck something.

Shuichi narrowed his eyes slightly.

The first camp lay northeast of Kaimachi, about three kilometers away.

Its Reiatsu was orderly and stable—the Reiatsu of Soul Reapers. It was a complete stationed unit, fully organized. Everyone was alive, and there appeared to be no wounded. Judging by its size, the stationed Soul Reapers from several nearby districts had likely gathered there.

The second camp lay southwest of Kaimachi, farther away. It belonged to mortals—many of them, densely packed.

Mortal armed forces. They had not withdrawn yet.

The third camp lay directly west of Kaimachi, closest to the Gillian. When Shuichi's Reiatsu touched that direction, it paused.

The Reishi Armed Forces.

Their Reiatsu had a platinum hue, arranged as neatly as a formation measured with rulers. The way their Reishi flowed was completely different from that of Soul Reapers.

Quincies.

Shuichi placed a hand on his sword hilt. His fingers tightened, then loosened.

At the site of a Hollow disaster, he had found a mortal army and a Quincy Reishi Armed Forces unit. From the look of things, the Hollow disaster had not subsided naturally—they had contained it together.

The Gillian was still there.

But the ordinary Hollow swarm that should have poured down around it had already been wiped out.

Forget it. I'll deal with the Gillian first.

The Quincies, the mortal armed forces, and the stationed Soul Reapers could all wait until this Menos Grande had fallen.

He drew his sword from his waist. Each time it was sheathed and drawn again, the blade was red.

The instant he drew it—

A red sword slash tore free from the blade, streaked through the night sky, and struck the Gillian's mask with perfect precision.

It did not shatter.

But it left behind a deep slash.

The Gillian slowly lowered its head.

Those hollow eyes finally found focus as it looked at Shuichi.

Then—

A piercing howl tore through the night.

At the same time, the Gillian's Reiatsu crashed down like a collapsing wall. The air became heavy and sticky, and rubble in the ruins jumped from the pressure before rolling across the ground.

The Steel-Skinned Hollows moved at once, as though whipped into action. Three, five, seven...

Below the Gillian's mask, red light began to gather. A point of red emerged from nothingness, rapidly expanding into a blazing mass of energy.

Cero.

The three distant camps were almost simultaneously alerted.

At the stationed Soul Reapers' camp—

The sensory Soul Reaper with the sharpest Reiatsu perception was the first to rise, his face deathly pale. "The Gillian's Cero! No—that's wrong! Someone is fighting the Gillian!"

His hand trembled as he pointed toward Kaimachi. "Captain-class Reiatsu! It's a captain!"

At the Reishi Armed Forces camp, the Quincies did not need Reiatsu perception to know what was happening. The fluctuation of Reishi from that red sword slash exploding against the Menos Grande's mask remained unmistakably clear even from several kilometers away. Everyone rose to their feet with weapons in hand, their eyes fixed on Kaimachi. Someone sucked in a sharp breath. No one spoke.

At the mortals' camp—

The soldiers only felt the ground shake again. Someone said, "It's starting again," but no one responded. They stared at the night sky over Kaimachi and could see nothing, only feeling the earth tremble again and again, as though something over there was beating a drum.

The Steel-Skinned Hollows charged.

They moved as fast as black arrows. Rubble shattered beneath their feet with a dense rumble. The one at the front had already opened its mouth, exposing two rows of serrated teeth as it lunged for Shuichi's throat.

Shuichi lightly tapped the ground with his right foot.

Shunpo.

His figure vanished from where he stood. All eight Steel-Skinned Hollows pounced into empty air. Some crashed into their companions, while others fell into piles of rubble and kicked up clouds of dust. The foremost one bit into the tree, tearing away its entire crown.

Shuichi stood in the air.

Beneath his feet was a thin platform formed from condensed Reishi. A Soul Reaper could attach Reishi and gather Reiatsu beneath his feet, stepping on empty air as though it were solid ground. It was an advanced use of Reishi, one not every Soul Reaper could master.

The eight Steel-Skinned Hollows stood on the ground, craning their heads upward and glaring helplessly.

They could not jump that high.

Only one of them could fly. A membrane stretched from its forelimbs to its hind limbs, making it resemble a deformed bat. It dived from the side, its wings tearing through the air with a shrill whistle. Its claws spread wide, each one as long as a short blade, aimed at Shuichi's throat.

Shuichi shifted slightly to the side.

The flying Hollow shot past him. Its momentum made it impossible to stop abruptly in midair. It glided far away before awkwardly flapping its wings and turning back. By the time it turned around, Shuichi was no longer where he had been.

The flying Hollow had missed again.

On the ground, the Steel-Skinned Hollows roared louder and louder. They were not mindless beasts, but at that moment, their intelligence seemed to contain only one emotion: rage.

They clawed at the rubble and raised their forelimbs to smash the ground, as though venting their fury.

The nearby Soul Reapers gripped their Zanpakutō hilts tightly. "That's definitely captain-class Reiatsu. Look at that captain's haori!"

They could not make out the number of Shuichi's division. The distance was too great, and the night too dark, but that white captain's haori was far too conspicuous in the darkness, like a patch of snow lifted by the wind and suspended over Kaimachi's ruins.

Which division was he from?

No one knew.

But that did not matter. What mattered was that a captain had arrived.

At the Reishi Armed Forces camp, the silence grew heavier than before.

The Quincies stood at the edge of the camp with weapons in hand, but not one of them stepped forward. The Gillian was gathering a Cero, and the Reiatsu of the Steel-Skinned Hollows pressed down like muffled thunder before a storm.

"That Hollow..."

A young Quincy swallowed, his voice tight.

"Terrifying."

No one laughed at him.

"Good thing we didn't attack on our own."

Another voice came from the middle of the group. It belonged to the captain of this unit, a middle-aged man.

At the rear of the formation, someone quietly said, "Who was it that mocked the Soul Reapers for being cowards before?"

No one answered.

They really had mocked them.

The Soul Reapers knew what they were facing. They did not.