"Waaahhh…"
The young "happy boy" buried his face in his arms and cried softly, as if he'd suffered some enormous grievance. Crystal-clear tears dripped down one by one.
"Hey, hey! Little bro Yasuo, give it a rest already! You're both kids, but Yachiru doesn't cry half as much as you do!"
Fūjin Taichi snatched back the Zanpakutō Kyūjūkyū in one swift motion, then casually flicked the black-haired kid on the forehead again with a loud, crisp bonk.
"..."
The crying stopped abruptly. The black-haired kid seemed completely stunned, staring silently at Fūjin Taichi with pitch-black eyes.
"Hehe, my hand slipped! Don't mind me, I'll get you that candy soon!"
Chuckling to himself, Taichi reattached the Zanpakutō to his waist. He then glanced around but didn't see the other blade, prompting him to ask instinctively:
"Where's the other one?"
"Taichi!"
A strange yet oddly familiar voice suddenly echoed through the empty underground training grounds—
"What?!"
Taichi's heart jolted. Speak of the devil…
Could it be that thing choosing now to stir up trouble?!
"Come inside—"
The voice from deep within his soul rang out once more.
"Tch. I've already mastered Bankai! Perfect timing—I'll tame you today as well!
Come on then… let's fight!!"
Fūjin Taichi sat down cross-legged, laid Kyūjūkyū flat across his thighs, and slowly closed his eyes—
...
"Whooo—"
A sharp wind suddenly howled past his ears. When he opened his eyes again, the scene before him had transformed into a vast, desolate wasteland, countless withered yellow grasses dancing wildly in the wind…
"Come out, my friend—I can already see your underwear!"
Taichi slowly drew his blade, pointing its tip toward the depths of the dark clouds above.
"As you wish…"
With a low murmur, a surge of purple flames erupted in the sky, burning away the heavy clouds in an instant. Dim yellow sunlight spilled down across the land.
"In their eyes, I am nothing but a mask.
In my eyes, they know only fear."
Along with the murmured words, a purple-haired warrior clad in a red robe and wearing a demonic mask stepped forth from the swirling violet flames, descending from the clouds onto the wasteland below.
"You sure know how to put on a show, my friend! Filming a shampoo commercial or something?!"
Taichi mocked, glancing at the colorful glow behind him.
"Taichi… I believe I've said this before."
The purple-haired warrior ignored him, speaking calmly.
"Said what?"
"You thief who stole my younger brother's power—
what right do you have to come here and stand before him?"
Pale yellow light glowed from behind the demon mask as the warrior spoke in a mocking tone.
"Heh. By 'my younger brother,' you mean that kid, right?"
Taichi flicked the blade of his Zanpakutō with his finger and grinned.
"He's my Zanpakutō—Yasuo. I'm his master.
To be more precise, I'm your king.
And all of you… are my mounts."
"..."
After hearing this, the purple-haired warrior showed no extreme reaction. Even his spiritual pressure remained eerily calm.
"By the way, my friend—do you know the difference between a 'king' and a 'mount'?"
Taichi continued smugly.
"I'm not talking about childish riddles like two legs versus four legs, by the way!"
Believing he had fully mastered Bankai, Taichi deliberately quoted White Ichigo's famous "king and horse" philosophy from Bleach, throwing it straight at the purple-haired warrior.
"Oh?"
The pale yellow eyes beneath the demon mask stared deeply at Taichi. After a long pause, the warrior finally spoke:
"Even with Bankai, you are no match for me.
Uttering such laughable nonsense is nothing but proof of your arrogance—
Or perhaps I should ask you something directly:
Taichi, do you really think someone like you can control my power?"
"Of course!"
Taichi grinned.
"Become my mount, my friend!!"
His left hand brushed lightly across the Zanpakutō as he shouted in a low voice:
"Face the wind!"
A flash of green light streaked across the blade of Kyūjūkyū. At the same time, Taichi's once-black eyes turned grass-green—the sole visible sign of his Shikai.
"One last question for you, my friend."
His gaze burned as he stared at the purple-haired warrior.
"What exactly… are you?
And when did you awaken?"
"That's two questions—"
The warrior raised his left hand, purple flames condensing into a violet Zanpakutō—
"Oh come on, we're all adults here—don't sweat the details!"
Taichi urged impatiently.
"Spit it out already—we still have a fight coming up!"
"My name is Yone, the Wind-Demon , born from the darkness within your heart—"
The purple-haired warrior, calling himself Wind-DemonYone, brushed his right hand along the violet blade and continued softly:
"You ask when I awakened?
Heh… heh heh…
Of course—it was when you nearly got yourself killed."
"Whoosh!"
Wind-Demon · Yone's figure vanished abruptly from before Fūjin Taichi's eyes. When he reappeared, he was already at Taichi's side, the purple Zanpakutō in his hand slashing down viciously!
"What?! That fast?!"
Taichi was shocked. He hurriedly swung his Zanpakutō behind him. With a loud bang, purple and blue spiritual energies collided violently in midair, erupting with a thunderous crash.
"Hiss—"
In the end, the purple spiritual power wrapped around Yone was far more vast and overwhelming. With just that single strike, Taichi let out a muffled grunt and was blasted backward dozens of meters!
"You—who trembled in fear just hearing a single name—
You—who were chased like a homeless dog by nothing more than a low-level Arrancar—
You—who survived to this day only because others showed mercy—
You—who abandoned me over nothing more than a near-farce of a Soul Burial (Konso) training exercise—
"How dare you! How dare you show your face to your King again!! TRASH!!!!!" Yone stood high in the air, screaming down at Taichi with raw fury.
"Wh-What? You're actually... that one?"
Taichi stared at the seemingly hysterical Yone in the sky, and scenes from more than ten years ago suddenly surfaced in his mind:
Back when he had just arrived in Soul Society, right in the middle of that brutal Soul Burial practicum—
Fleeing in panic, he didn't even know when he had lost the Asauchi he carried with him. Like a stray dog, he hid and ran, barely managing to survive…
But according to Bleach's setting, an Asauchi is merely a nameless Zanpakutō. Only when a Shinigami pours their spirit and convictions into it does it become their unique blade!!
So when he lost it back then, Taichi—desperate only to stay alive—never gave it a second thought.
There were Asauchi all over the ground anyway. Just pick up another one, right?!
"Wait… don't tell me—!"
Taichi's heart suddenly jolted as realization struck him:
Could it be… before my soul transmigrated, this man called 'Fūjin Taichi' had already forged his own Zanpakutō?!
"Heh… heh heh… so within your heart, I was reduced to something so insignificant that even my name was forgotten… Master!!"
Wind-Demon · Yone let out a bitter, broken laugh.
"I see now… you were Kyūjūkyū all along!
My… Zanpakutō!!
But then why—"
Understanding dawned on Taichi.
The reason he possessed two Zanpakutō of different lengths was likely because two completely different souls resided within him—one was "Fūjin Taichi," the other "Embers."
Yet a new doubt quickly followed:
If this Hollow was Fūjin Taichi's original Zanpakutō… then who was that child?!
Could he really be Ashes' Zanpakutō—Yasuo?!
"Hmph. It doesn't matter anymore."
Yone slowly raised her right hand and removed the demonic mask, revealing an exquisitely beautiful yet deathly pale female face.
Her pale yellow eyes shimmered with gloomy light as she stared at Taichi with icy indifference.
"I once chased the untamed wind.
Now, I hunt the storm born of darkness.
Taichi…
I'm going to kill you."
"Yone! Don't you find it tragic—brothers killing each other?!
I think… we should sit down and talk this out properly!"
Taichi raised his Zanpakutō horizontally before his chest, extending his left hand to pinch the blade's tip as he spoke in a deep voice:
"At this point, who's right or wrong doesn't even matter anymore!
You want me dead, and I refuse to die without a fight!
So then—
For the Horde—!
…No, scratch that—
Bankai!!"