Hearing this, Byakuya Kuchiki's expression darkened further—his eyes sharp as winter steel.
Even Kurotsuchi Mayuri blinked, momentarily thrown off balance. "Why so arrogant, Akira?"
He hadn't pegged Akira as a fool—reckless, perhaps, but not this brazen. Such a declaration bordered on suicidal… unless he had something to back it up.
And then—they understood.
"Om—!"
Not a sound, yet it shook the very air. The sky seemed to sag under an invisible weight. The atmosphere warped, crackling with raw, suffocating Reiatsu that rolled outward like a tidal wave.
"What—?!"
Byakuya staggered, his composure cracking as the pressure slammed into him—not just immense, but boundless, as if the heavens themselves had bent to this presence.
"This Reiatsu…" Mayuri's golden eyes widened, his usual smirk long gone. "Captain-class? No… I can't even measure it!"
How—how—did Akira wield such power?
The shock wasn't theirs alone. Across the Seireitei, Shinigami dropped to their knees, gasping. Birds fell silent. Wind ceased. The spiritual fabric of the city groaned under the weight of something new—and terrifyingly absolute.
In the First Division headquarters, Captain-Commander Yamamoto Genryūsai slowly rose from his seat, his cane gripping the floor like an anchor. His brow furrowed deeply.
"In all my centuries…" he murmured, gaze fixed on the horizon, "I have not sensed a Reiatsu of this magnitude arise from within our walls."
If such power now walked the Seireitei unseen… it was not just a threat. It was a reckoning.
---
Seventh Division Barracks
Komamura Sajin stood abruptly, armor clanking as his canine ears twitched. His hand fell to his sword's hilt.
"This is no ordinary disturbance," he growled. "An unknown entity—of unprecedented strength—has manifested within the Seireitei. Mobilize the division! Now!"
As the inner guard responsible for internal security, the Seventh Division moved swiftly. Simultaneously, the Tenth Division's alarm bells rang—silent but urgent in every soul's perception.
In his office, Hitsugaya Tōshirō froze mid-signature. Ice crept unconsciously along his desk. He turned sharply to Matsumoto Rangiku, eyes narrowed with cold realization.
"That Reiatsu… I've never felt anything like it. And it surpasses mine."
Rangiku's usual levity vanished. "Then we don't have a second to waste."
---
Streets of the Seireitei
Perched on Zaraki Kenpachi's broad shoulder, Yachiru Kusajishi bounced with glee, pink hair fluttering.
"Ken-chan! Ken-chan! Something huge just popped up! Like a giant sparkly firework made of spirit!"
"Quit wiggling," Kenpachi grunted—but his grin was already splitting his face, feral and eager. He turned toward the Sixth Division compound, where the pressure coiled thickest.
"Yeah… feels like the real deal." His eyes burned with battle-lust, pupils dilated. "Hope they've got the guts to swing first."
With a roar of shattering tiles beneath his feet, he charged—Yachiru whooping with joy—as the Eleventh Division captain hurled himself toward the epicenter of the storm.
---
Sixth Division Courtyard
Akira remained unaware that all of Seireitei had mobilized because of him.
Standing opposite him, Byakuya Kuchiki didn't know that either—but he did know one thing: Akira was, at the very least, a captain-class threat.
Without hesitation, Byakuya raised his hand. In an instant, the air shimmered as Senbonzakura's blades—countless, razor-thin petals—surged forward in a disciplined storm.
"Oh? Going all out from the start?"
Kurotsuchi Mayuri watched from the edge of the courtyard, eyes gleaming with scientific hunger. He knew that when Byakuya personally guided Senbonzakura with his hand, its speed and precision increased dramatically—though "fourfold" was a crude oversimplification. Still, the intent was clear: Byakuya wasn't holding back.
"Excalibur!"
Akira's response was a blinding arc of golden light. The very air screamed as his blade cleaved through the sky, its radiance pure and overwhelming.
The Holy Sword's slash struck the advancing petals—and shattered them. Not merely dispersed, but annihilated, reduced to glimmering dust before they could reform. The golden wave surged onward, illuminating Byakuya's unreadable face—though for the briefest moment, his eyes betrayed shock—before engulfing him completely.
BOOM!
The explosion ripped through the courtyard. Stone walls vaporized. The earth cratered. Dust and debris spiraled skyward like a dying breath.
As the smoke thinned, a vast, shimmering sphere of pink blades coalesced in the center of the devastation—billions of microscopic petals forming an impenetrable shell.
"Is that… Senbonzakura Kageyoshi?" someone gasped.
Normally an offensive technique—capable of shredding enemies from every angle without blind spots—it had been forced into defense. Byakuya, kneeling within the sphere's core, had wrapped himself in his Bankai's entirety just to survive.
Mayuri's grin widened. "Fascinating. He used Kageyoshi's defensive mode—a maneuver even I've only theorized." He nudged Nemu. "Keep recording. Every frame."
Outside the crater, Hitsugaya Tōshirō and Komamura Sajin skidded to a halt, their lieutenants barely keeping pace.
"Brace yourselves!" Hitsugaya barked.
"Defensive formation—now!" Komamura roared.
The shockwave hit like a collapsing star. Captains and seated officers alike erected barriers just in time, the wind howling with enough force to flay stone.
Inside the ruined courtyard, the sphere of blades flickered—then shattered, petals scattering like dying embers. Byakuya stood, one knee on the cracked earth, his haori tattered, his breath ragged.
'That power… it surpasses even my Bankai's offensive potential.'
He'd used Shunpo at the last instant—retracting every blade around himself a split-second before the blast struck. Even so, his reiatsu felt thin, strained.
And then—light gathered again.
Akira stood at the crater's edge, his holy sword humming with divine energy, already charging for a second strike.
"He's not even winded…" Mayuri muttered, stepping back with Nemu. "That attack—Excalibur—can be fired in rapid succession? Preposterous… and magnificent."
"Excalibur!"
The second slash tore the sky in half. Golden radiance consumed everything—earth, air, shadow. The crater deepened. The surrounding buildings disintegrated.
When the light faded, only silence remained.
Then—movement.
Byakuya rose, blood streaking his temple, eyes blazing with resolve. He raised his hand once more, voice low but absolute.
"Jikoku Senbonzakura Kageyoshi."
The world twisted. Space folded. Thousands of luminous pink blades erupted—not as projectiles, but as walls of a sealed domain. In an instant, Akira was trapped within a crystalline labyrinth of light and steel, isolated from Seireitei itself.
From outside, the battlefield looked like a floating mirage—a shimmering sphere of impossible geometry.
Hitsugaya's breath caught. "He's using Jikoku… This ends now, one way or another."
Inside the domain, Akira didn't flinch. His blade pulsed, brighter than the sun.
"All this spectacle…" he said, voice calm, "means nothing."
Byakuya's eyes narrowed. "What?"
"Excalibur—OVERDRIVE."
With a single swing, light exploded outward, not as a beam—but as absolute negation. The domain of blades fractured, then imploded, collapsing into nothingness as if reality itself had rejected its existence.
Silence.
Then—wind.
Then—ruin.