With Kurosaki Ichigo's fall, an eerie silence swallowed the battlefield.
The few survivors lay broken across the scorched earth, limbs twisted, breath ragged. Their eyes—wide with disbelief and exhaustion—locked onto Akira, who stood untouched amidst the ruin he'd wrought.
"Is this… the true power of a captain?" Ichigo ground out through clenched teeth, every muscle screaming in protest. His vision blurred; his thoughts churned like storm-tossed waves. Too strong… This power—it's beyond anything I've faced!
He hadn't even forced Akira to release his Bankai. Not a single Shikai strike had landed cleanly. They'd been dismantled—no, erased—as if their strength meant nothing.
"Damn it… just how many abilities does he even have?!" Yoruichi Shihōin whispered, her feline form rigid with shock.
She'd held back, wary that unleashing her reiatsu might draw the attention of other Gotei 13 captains. Her plan had been simple: let Ichigo and the others stall long enough to retreat. But that sliver of hesitation had shattered their chances.
And now, it was too late.
Worse still—reverting to human form mid-battle meant she'd be naked, vulnerable. Not that modesty troubled her, but without even a scrap of cloth for protection, every opening became a death sentence.
Her golden eyes narrowed as Akira's earlier words echoed in her mind: "Call this a 'half-baked Shikai'?"
Her jaw tightened. That power… it's easily among the strongest Shikai I've ever witnessed.
She'd believed they could handle it. Ichigo alone had grown strong enough to rival a vice-captain—maybe even a low-ranked captain. Against a standard Gotei 13 captain, they should've stood a chance.
Not this.
"Kurosaki-san—!" Orihime's cry ripped through the stillness.
Yoruichi whirled—just in time to see Akira flash past them like a ghost. One swing of his blade shattered Santen Kesshun as though it were glass, cutting off Orihime's desperate attempt to heal Chad.
"Stop!" Yoruichi snapped.
No more hesitation. She triggered her transformation mid-leap—human form surging back—ready to intercept his next strike.
But—
"I suggest you don't move."
A voice, soft as frost, brushed against the back of her neck.
Ice flooded Yoruichi's veins. What?!
Her golden eyes snapped wide. The Akira she'd been charging vanished—no blur, no afterimage. Nothing. And behind her… a killing intent so dense it choked the air.
When did he—?!
Her body locked. She—the Flash Goddess, the undisputed master of Shunpo—had seen nothing. Not a flicker of movement. Not a ripple in the reishi.
This wasn't just speed. It was displacement. Erasure. As if space itself bent to his will.
His electric field… it lets him teleport instantly.
She crushed the rising fear beneath steely resolve. "Your strength… it's not just captain-level, is it?" she said, voice steady despite the tremor in her core. "What do you want?"
Akira didn't answer immediately. Instead, he slowly sheathed his zanpakutō.
Then, without a glance back, he turned and walked toward the western gate.
"…Huh?" Yoruichi blinked, thrown by the abrupt retreat.
"What the hell… does that mean?"
Akira paused and glanced back at Shihōin Yoruichi.
"After this battle, you must've felt it—the pressure, right? Don't think your Shikai alone is enough to stand against me. Come back when you're stronger."
He'd already made his decision: it was better to let Kurosaki Ichigo live—for now. In truth, Akira was cultivating him like a blade, tempering his hatred and resolve, waiting for him to sharpen into something truly formidable. There was no downside to this. He invested nothing, yet stood to gain a far more worthy adversary.
Would Ichigo one day surpass his control? Akira wasn't concerned in the slightest. He tracked Ichigo's growth meticulously—and his own power grew faster still. He would always remain steps ahead.
"What a strange man…"
Yoruichi watched as Akira vanished into the depths of the Seireitei. She exhaled slowly, only now realizing how tense she'd been. Her fingers brushed the small of her back—her clothes were soaked with cold sweat.
"Damn it… Even now, I still can't beat him."
Nearby, Kurosaki Ichigo groaned unconsciously in his sleep. Even in this state, Yoruichi could sense it: Akira had carved a deep scar into Ichigo's spirit—not just of defeat, but of overwhelming despair.
"Let's hope he can push through it," she murmured. "Looks like we'll need to accelerate his Bankai training."
With a sigh, Yoruichi turned to Inoue Orihime. "Start healing him. We're moving out."
—
As Akira walked, he reflected on his Zanpakutō. Remarkably, even its incomplete Shikai already surpassed the released forms of most Shinigami.
Typical Shikai—even among captains—tended toward straightforward abilities. Abarai Renji's Zabimaru extended and segmented; Kuchiki Byakuya's Senbonzakura scattered into blades. Their battles might dazzle, but at their core, they relied on variations of simple principles.
But Akira's Shikai—Mirror—had already manifested at least three distinct powers:
- Warping the trajectory of incoming attacks.
- Reversing the physical direction of enemy strikes.
- Manipulating reflected light and shadows to weave illusions, disorienting foes.
Each ability stood strong on its own; together, they made his Shikai unnervingly versatile.
What new powers will awaken once it's complete?
The thought sent a thrill through him.
Suddenly, a voice boomed across the Seireitei, amplified by Kidō:
"All captains, assemble immediately in the First Division for an emergency meeting!"
The proclamation shattered his reverie. Akira halted, considering the possibilities.
Is this about Kurosaki Ichigo's invasion? The Seireitei's response was swift…
Or could it be that Tōsen Kaname's prolonged absence has finally drawn scrutiny?
…Or perhaps both?
Either way, he needed answers. Without hesitation, Akira turned toward the First Division headquarters.