The reiatsu that erupted from Suzumushi instantly coalesced into a vast black dome, sealing Tōsen Kaname and his target within its inky confines.
Inside Suzumushi Tsuishiki: Enma Kōrogi, all senses—sight, sound, scent, even the perception of reiatsu—vanished completely. The world was reduced to absolute sensory void. Only the wielder, Tōsen himself, retained full awareness, so long as his hand remained on the hilt of his zanpakutō.
His intent was clear: render his opponent helpless, stripped of every sense but touch, and then cut them down without resistance. Even someone as perceptive as Ichimaru Gin would be rendered blind and deaf within this domain—utterly powerless. And so, Tōsen had deliberately activated his Bankai after ensuring Gin remained outside its perimeter.
Beyond the impenetrable black barrier, Gin watched silently, his slitted eyes narrowing ever so slightly. For once, the ever-present smile on his lips faltered—not visibly, but in the tension beneath it.
"Aizen mentioned Akira…" Gin mused, his mind racing. "But nothing in the reports said his Shunpo was this fast."
He replayed the blur of motion in his head—the way Akira had closed impossible distances in less than a breath. Gin, who'd graduated from the Shin'ō Academy in a single year (a feat reserved for prodigies of mythic caliber), who'd stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Aizen for decades and mastered the art of combat at its highest echelons… even he had never seen Shunpo like this.
"That's not just Shunpo…" Gin realized, a bead of cold sweat tracing his temple. "It's closer to spatial teleportation."
In mere seconds, the hunter had become the hunted. Their ambush—carefully orchestrated, perfectly timed—had been dismantled before it could even begin. A captain had already fallen, critically wounded, and Akira hadn't even broken a sweat.
Clearly, he was far more dangerous than any of them had anticipated.
Inside the suffocating void of Enma Kōrogi, Tōsen Kaname's lips curled into a rare, satisfied smirk as he observed Akira standing utterly still—deprived of sight, sound, scent, even the faintest whisper of spiritual pressure.
"Hmph… Even someone as formidable as you becomes helpless when stripped of every sense."
He advanced with deliberate calm, Suzumushi raised high, its edge glinting with lethal intent. One clean stroke would end it.
But just before he could strike—
A cold prickle raced up his spine.
Something was wrong.
Akira had evaded Suzumushi's Shikai without effort… Could he have bypassed the Bankai's absolute sensory nullification as well?
Before the thought fully formed—
A flash of steel tore through the abyss.
"Guh—!"
Tōsen twisted violently—but not fast enough. A searing gash ripped across his chest, hot blood splattering into the voidless dark. His breath hitched; his fingers trembled around his sword's hilt.
"You… You can see me?!"
For the first time, raw fear bled into Tōsen's voice.
And rightly so.
Though Enma Kōrogi had indeed robbed Akira of all conventional senses… one faculty remained untouched—
Observation Haki.
To Akira, Tōsen wasn't hidden. He was blazing—a vivid silhouette of intent and motion against the perfect black, as clear as a flame in a sealed tomb.
"Damn you! Answer me!" Tōsen snarled, fury drowning his fear. He knew close combat was suicide now—wounded, blind to his opponent's movements, and outmaneuvered.
So he fell back on Kidō.
"Hadō #58: Tenran!"
A tempest of slicing winds erupted toward Akira—but before it could even form fully—
"Wind King's Hammer."
Akira's voice cut through the spell like a blade.
A counter-gale, dense and crushing, exploded outward—shattering Tenran into harmless eddies. The backlash slammed into Tōsen like a meteor, hurling him across the void. He crashed hard, skidding through unseen earth, his body now lacerated with fresh cuts, ribs likely cracked.
But worse than the pain…
Was the truth.
Akira could see him.
His ultimate weapon—his Bankai, the pinnacle of his justice—was useless.
"How… how?!" Tōsen gasped, blood bubbling at his lips.
Akira tilted his head slightly, eyes gleaming with quiet amusement.
"Your Bankai is impressive. In fact… it reminds me of Aizen's Kyōka Suigetsu—an illusion of absolute control."
A beat. Then, a faint, cold smirk.
"But you made one fatal error… assuming no one could perceive you in here."
He didn't elaborate. Instead, he raised his hand.
Lightning coiled around his fingers like living serpents.
"Raikou."
A bolt of blinding white-blue energy lanced forward—faster than thought, hotter than hellfire.
"AAAAAGH—!"
Tōsen's scream was cut short as volts ripped through his nervous system. His body convulsed once, twice—then collapsed, smoking and still.
Akira stepped forward, electricity crackling in a storm around him. Thunder growled with every footfall.
"This is why I never hide in battle," he declared, voice ringing with divine certainty.
"Consider yourself honored. You were the first to witness my true power."
Then—
"Raijin—Kaikai!"
The name itself seemed to split the sky.
From his core erupted a cataclysm of lightning—a fusion of Raikou and Hōden, perfected through mastery of the Goro Goro no Mi. Not mere electricity, but sovereign wrath made manifest.
The entire Suzumushi barrier shattered under the deluge.
BOOOOM!!!
Outside, Gin Ichimaru barely had time to widen his eyes before a wall of blue-white light tore through the darkness. The shockwave hit him like a mountain, flinging him back hundreds of meters. Dust, smoke, and scorched earth filled the air as he skidded to a halt, robes tattered, breath ragged.
When the haze cleared…
The battlefield was a crater of blackened glass.
And at its center stood Akira—untouched, regal, lightning fading like a dying storm.
At his feet lay Tōsen: unconscious, charred, utterly broken.
Gin's usual grin was gone. His hand tightened on Shinsō—not in confidence, but in recognition.
That speed… that power…
Tōsen hadn't just lost. He'd been erased before he could blink.
If Bankai couldn't save him… what chance did Gin have?
He began the incantation anyway—
"Bankai—"
—but Akira's voice cut through the air like a guillotine.
"Do you wish to die… or to live?"
Not a question. A verdict.
Gin froze.
That tone—calm, absolute, final—carried the weight of inevitability. Push forward, and he'd join Tōsen in the dirt.
Slowly… he lowered his blade.
"You're offering me a choice?" Gin asked, voice low.
Akira's eyes gleamed.
"I can give you what you've waited decades for."
A pause. Then, softly:
"Revenge on Aizen."
Gin's breath caught.
He knows.
"Of course I do," Akira said, as if it were obvious. "You've played the fool, the loyal lapdog—but your eyes have always watched Aizen's back… waiting for the knife's moment."
He extended a hand, wreathed in fading sparks.
"Aizen is my enemy too. Swear your loyalty to me… and I'll hand you his head."