After Tousen Kaname's Bankai was released and the black barrier of Enma Kōrogi engulfed Masco's figure, Mazuru and the others in the main hall of Las Noches could no longer see what was happening inside. Even with the enhanced monitoring equipment Gin had adjusted earlier, the veil of darkness blocked all visual and spiritual readings.
Yet what had unfolded just moments before was enough to set Mazuru's thoughts spinning.
He replayed the scene carefully in his mind—the quincy star aimed directly at Tousen, right at the instant his Bankai was activated.
"So, Masco tried to steal it." Mazuru mused silently. "He wanted to use the Star Medallion to capture Kaname's Bankai."
But the outcome was obvious. The attempt had failed.
Why?
Mazuru's eyes narrowed slightly as possibilities formed. There was only one explanation that fit.
Tousen Kaname was no longer purely a shinigami. Since embracing the power of hollowfication, his existence had become a hybrid. His Zanpakutō, Suzumushi, was no longer just a Zanpakutō—it was also akin to an arrancar's Resurrección. It could perform Bankai, yet at the same time it carried the nature of a hollow's blade release.
The Star Medallion, after all, was a tool designed by the Wandenreich to target and steal the Bankai of shinigami. Its principle worked by interfering with the resonance between a shinigami's soul and their Zanpakutō spirit, forcibly tearing that bond away and storing the essence inside the medallion.
But Tousen's power was not "shinigami-only". It was fused with hollow essence. A Zanpakutō and a hollow's Resurrección bound together.
'The medallion cannot capture what it cannot classify.' Mazuru concluded.
Even Ishida Soken had confessed long ago that, while he knew many secrets of the Wandenreich, there were limits to his knowledge. The Ishida family had never been in Yhwach's favor, and after defecting from the Sternritter, Soken lost even more of his standing. His Schrift had been reclaimed during the Auswählen ritual, leaving him hollow compared to his former self.
'That explains why he was so weak despite being pure-blooded.' Mazuru thought with a hint of pity. 'A man without his Schrift is little more than a shadow of his former title.'
But right now, what truly held Mazuru's curiosity was not Soken's decline. It was the Wandenreich's technology—and its failure.
'If I could dissect one of those medallions… or better, the soul of one who wielded it.' he thought, a flicker of ambition passing his expression, 'I could unravel more of the Empire's secrets.'
His gaze drifted briefly toward James, the ridiculous little man who stood outside the black barrier, his eyes wide in panic. The loyal fool continued shouting words of support, believing somehow that his voice could reach Masco inside.
News Flash, it didn't.
Cut off by Enma Kōrogi, James' cries echoed uselessly in the hall.
Inside the barrier, Masco felt that loss keenly.
The moment James' voice vanished, Masco's power began to plummet. The recovery factor that had made his body so resilient faltered. His swollen muscles no longer regenerated with every wound. His blows grew weaker.
As Gin had speculated—and Mazuru silently confirmed—James wasn't just a sidekick. He was integral to Masco's ability. Each cheer, each declaration of support, had fed spiritual energy into Masco, fueling both his physical strength and his rapid healing.
Worse still, James could multiply. His body could split into countless versions of himself, each one a cheerleader amplifying Masco's power exponentially.
That was Masco's essence. He wasn't just a superhero in appearance—his very ability was built upon the archetype. The crowd empowered the hero. The hero fought for the crowd.
But now there was no crowd.
In the pitch-black silence of Kaname's Bankai, Masco couldn't hear James. He couldn't hear anything. His hearing was gone, as was his sight, his sense of smell, even his spiritual perception.
An oppressive loneliness crushed him.
As a so-called superhero, to be severed from his fans was to be severed from his identity.
Then came the blade.
*Shhk!*
Pain erupted across his chest as Suzumushi tore into his flesh. Masco roared, lashing out with a fist that swung into emptiness. He couldn't even guess where Kaname stood.
The irony gnawed at him. Zaraki Kenpachi, the beast of battle, had once faced this same Bankai and clawed his way through by sheer instinct. But Masco? His instincts were ordinary at best. He relied not on honed combat sense, but on the faith of others.
And faith could not pierce darkness.
Blow after blow carved into him. Blood ran freely down his body, soaking his flamboyant superhero attire. His anger built alongside his pain.
"Despicable villain!" Masco roared into the void. "To attack a hero in such cowardly darkness—you have provoked the wrath of justice itself!"
Each word was punctuated by another slash, another grunt of agony. Yet behind the fury, a thought simmered in Masco's mind.
If he had captured Kaname's Bankai with the medallion, as he had intended earlier, he wouldn't be suffering like this. But he also wouldn't have been able to use his last resort.
Now, in this hopeless state, that option became his salvation.
The Vollständig Form—the Quincy's final trump card. Their equivalent of a shinigami's Bankai.
But unlike Bankai, the quincy's Vollständig was dangerous even to its wielder, burning through their body's stamina rapidly as it granted them transcendental strength. Many Sternritter avoided it unless absolutely necessary.
Yet Masco no longer had a choice.
The barrier trembled as a pillar of radiant light erupted upward, splitting the oppressive darkness for a fleeting instant. Kaname halted mid-strike, retreating cautiously as the glow intensified.
The brilliance tore through the void like a beacon, illuminating the battlefield before being swallowed again by the abyss.
When the light receded, Masco no longer looked the same.
Behind him unfurled massive reishi wings that shimmered like a flowing cape. A glowing pentagram haloed his head. Across his chest, a radiant star-shaped emblem pulsed with energy, and his waist was encircled by a belt that gleamed faintly even under Kaname's suppressive darkness.
This was the Vollständig — Masco's Holy Form.
Yet even so, the darkness of Enma Kōrogi pressed down, trying to mute his light, to silence his very existence.
But Masco clenched his fists, his voice reverberating with newfound might.
"A true hero shines brightest in the deepest night! And I… AM THAT HERO!"
The black world quivered as two monstrous forces clashed, Kaname's abyss of silence, and Masco's blinding star of false justice.
*****
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