The next moment, all the Reiatsu that had erupted throughout Seireitei was drawn back into Shiraha's body. The suffocating pressure vanished as his figure materialized before everyone's eyes—calm, centered, and perfectly composed.
In a flicker of Shunpo, Shiraha appeared before Captain-Commander Yamamoto Genryūsai. With a faint, courteous smile, he inclined his head. "Captain-Commander, all captains, I bid you peace."
Every gaze fixed on him, the captains momentarily stunned by his change in appearance. The plain practice blade that once hung at his hip had transformed into a white Zanpakutō. The scabbard gleamed with a pale luster, its surface adorned by intricate, frost-like patterns. Most striking of all were Shiraha's eyes—icy blue, brilliant, and alive once more.
"Hmm? Shiraha, your eyes… they've returned?" Kyōraku Shunsui asked with a half-smile, though surprise flickered in his expression.
"Yes, Captain Kyōraku," Shiraha replied evenly, his tone calm yet quietly filled with satisfaction.
"Congratulations, Shiraha," said Ukitake Jūshirō gently, genuine joy softening his face.
For so many years, Shiraha's blindness had been considered irreversible. The Kuchiki family had exhausted countless methods to restore his sight, but all had failed. That his vision returned now, of its own accord, left even Byakuya momentarily shaken.
"Grandfather will be very pleased," Byakuya said as he stepped forward, composure still intact though his eyes betrayed warmth.
Since birth, Shiraha had been judged congenitally blind—his eyes unresponsive to any healing arts. The fact that they now gleamed with life bordered on the miraculous.
"Yeah! Xiaoyu can finally see Yachiru and Ken-chan again!" Yachiru Kusajishi cheered, perched on Zaraki Kenpachi's shoulder, her bright pink hair bouncing.
Kenpachi scoffed. "Tch. Sight or no sight, what's the difference? What's there to be happy about?" His grin was faintly disappointed. He had thought that massive Reiatsu meant an enemy to fight. Instead, it was just Shiraha's awakening.
"Captain Ukitake," Shiraha said lightly, "you truly look as gentle as I imagined."
Of course, he was lying. Shiraha had seen Ukitake and the others countless times through Observation Haki. Now that his eyes were restored, he merely feigned surprise to hide the truth.
"Haha, thank you, Shiraha," Ukitake replied with a warm smile.
"And what about me?" Kyōraku tilted his head, feigning nonchalance. "Curious what your 'first impression' is."
Shiraha's lips curved slightly. "Captain Kyōraku, you look far less refined than Captain Ukitake. Honestly, more like a lazy, unkempt middle-aged uncle. A far cry from what I imagined."
The jab struck deep. Kyōraku clutched his chest dramatically, pretending offense. "Ah, that's cruel, Shiraha. Even from the newly sighted."
Since Aizen's betrayal, Kyōraku had often dragged Shiraha to the Eighth Division for drinks, especially whenever Ukitake was bedridden. Shiraha, polite but unwilling, had always complied. Now that Kyōraku had offered himself up, Shiraha wasn't about to miss his chance for playful revenge.
"Middle-aged uncle, huh?" Kyōraku turned, feigning despair toward his companions. "Nanao-chan, Jūshirō—do I really look that way?"
Nanao Ise adjusted her glasses, her tone as calm as ever. "Captain Shiraha is correct, Captain Kyōraku. You are indeed a sloppy middle-aged man."
"Even you, Nanao?" Kyōraku groaned. "How heartless."
Nanao's brow twitched. For a brief moment, she clearly wanted to strike him—but with so many captains present, she restrained herself and exhaled quietly instead.
"Enough, Shunsui," Ukitake said, chuckling softly. "Don't exaggerate."
"Ah, Jūshirō, you always ruin my little performances," Kyōraku sighed, pressing the rim of his hat lower to hide a grin.
Then Shiraha turned to Nanao. "Vice-Captain Ise," he said gently, "you're just as graceful as I imagined."
Although he had already perceived her appearance through Haki, seeing her now with his own eyes felt different.
Nanao hesitated, a faint blush rising on her cheeks as she recalled the moment Shiraha had once taken her hand in battle. "Thank you," she murmured, lowering her gaze.
Even before, when his eyes had been closed, Shiraha's presence carried quiet magnetism. Now, with those piercing blue eyes open, his composure seemed to draw attention without effort—refined, distant, and effortlessly captivating.
A thunderous boom suddenly shattered the stillness.
Yamamoto Genryūsai's staff struck the floor, the impact echoing like a commandment. "Silence," he said, his deep voice cutting through the air. His sharp gaze fixed on Shiraha, weighing him.
"Captain Shiraha," Yamamoto said gravely, "explain yourself. Why did you release such immense Reiatsu in the heart of Seireitei? As Captain of the Seventh Division, you understand full well that unleashing your power during peacetime is forbidden."
He narrowed his eyes. "Was Kyōraku correct? Were you attempting to attain Bankai?"
According to Shiraha's own report ten years earlier, he had achieved only Shikai. Yet now his Reiatsu had grown enormously, his eyes restored, his Zanpakutō transformed. It was natural that suspicion arose.
Every captain turned toward him, curiosity and caution mixed in their eyes. Even the lieutenants standing nearby could feel it—Shiraha's power was far beyond its former limits.
"Captain-Commander," Shiraha said evenly, his expression calm, "you misunderstand. I wasn't attempting Bankai. I've merely perfected my Zanpakutō's Shikai. Until now, it was incomplete—half-realized. Today, I've finally brought it to its true form."
His voice was composed, steady.
The room fell silent.
Just Shikai?
The Reiatsu they had all felt moments ago had rivaled that of Kyōraku and Ukitake—two of the most formidable captains in the Gotei 13. Even Yamamoto's eyes narrowed, his thoughts hidden behind a stern mask.
At that moment, in another corner of Seireitei, a sharp, mechanical voice broke through static.
"Ajin, what is it?" Kurotsuchi Mayuri muttered, pressing a finger to the communication device clipped to his ear. It was one of his personal inventions—a compact communicator capable of long-distance transmission across Seireitei.
A distorted voice crackled back through the line, breathless with urgency.
Mayuri's yellow eyes widened. Then his lips stretched into an unsettling grin, his expression twisting with manic delight.
"Heh… heh-heh-heh… Kuchiki Shiraha! Finally, proof of your collaboration with that sinner—Aizen!"
His laughter, shrill and inhuman, echoed through the laboratory as he rose from his chair, golden irises whirling madly.
The pieces, it seemed, were moving again.
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