Rewind a few minutes.
"Hey, buddy."
"Can't we settle down a little? Like your neighbor over there—just coast through it and wait for the battle to end."
Shunsui Kyōraku nimbly weaved around Grimmjow's raking claw strike, then countered with a backhanded slash that severed the incoming Cero clean in two.
Following Kyōraku's line of sight, Grimmjow looked over at the neighboring sector—where Jūshirō Ukitake was openly and shamelessly slacking off with Starrk. Every Cero traded between them was all thunder and no lightning, every single one bounced harmlessly away by Ukitake's Sōgyo no Kotowari.
"That bastard..." Grimmjow's teeth ground together with a grating creak. "Ceros at that level don't even count as playing house!"
Slash—!
In a single careless moment, the bamboo hat atop Shunsui Kyōraku's head was split cleanly in two by a swipe of blue claws, sent spinning high into the air.
"Come to think of it..." Retreating a few cautious steps, Kyōraku traced the outline of Grimmjow's body with his twin blades. A strange blue luminescence radiated from Grimmjow's form, his Hollow hole filled solid by a glowing blue jewel of light. "Your Resurrección seems a little different from the others, friend."
"Oh? Not bad, Shinigami—you've got a decent eye." Flattered, Grimmjow actually paused his assault for once. "This is..."
He had only gotten halfway through his explanation when Kyōraku's figure launched high into the air, his twin blades coming down with absolutely zero sporting spirit:
"You know, the one whose shadow gets stepped on is destined to lose~~"
"An open, shameless sneak attack? That trick won't work on me—"
Grimmjow raised both claws to block—but his expression changed in an instant. A chill crept up his spine, and pure instinct wrenched his body sideways.
But he was half a beat too slow.
Shlick.
He looked down, eyes wide with disbelief, at the blood-soaked blade tip protruding from his own torso.
When the hell did he get behind me—?!
Just as Kyōraku was about to follow through and sever Grimmjow's right arm, Ulquiorra's death and Soifon's move to execute the next several Espada created a single-second delay in his actions.
Rip—!
Grimmjow endured the searing pain and wrenched his body free of the long blade. Blue light swirled lazily around the wound, steadily knitting his injury back together.
"What a ridiculous ability. You're a grown man, and yet your Zanpakutō plays tricks like a kid's toy—aren't you embarrassed?!"
Covering the sword gash on his shoulder, Grimmjow scraped up a line of his own blood and licked it off his finger. The ferocity in his eyes deepened.
"Sorry about that—I suppose I've just always had a naturally playful soul?" Kyōraku spread open the hands that had been gripping his twin blades. "Much like how your Resurrección makes your temper as wild as a panther's, hm?"
A moment later, Grimmjow lowered his hand from his shoulder. The gash that had been pouring blood had already closed and scarred over.
He rolled his shoulder and showed his teeth. "Then you guessed right. My Resurrección is Pantera."
"This really is bad news... the Hōgyoku is such a cheat—since when can it regenerate injuries like that?"
Kyōraku instinctively reached up to press down his bamboo hat—only for his fingers to close on empty air. He could only scratch his head awkwardly in its absence.
He's only No. 5, and already his speed and regeneration are completely outrageous. Just what kind of monsters did Soifon and Aizen create?
Does that mean... the two of them each have the power to suppress these things?
God help us...
From a single glimpse, the full picture was clear. Kyōraku's mood had sunk to rock bottom. Even with No. 4 taken out of the picture on the other side, it was hard to see any path to victory for the Shinigami in this war.
Sharing the burden is better than suffering alone!
Slashing out a spinning arc of blade-wind to neutralize Grimmjow's incoming Cero, Kyōraku retreated and maneuvered Grimmjow directly into the path of Starrk's own Cero fire.
Ukitake watched his old friend crash into the battlefield and gave a pained, wry smile. "You're going to make both of them get serious now, Shunsui..."
"Cough, cough... At this point, I suppose we have no choice but to sort it out ourselves?"
Ukitake covered his mouth to cough twice, then raised his twin blades. The Spiritual Pressure inside him began to surge—but Kyōraku reached over and pressed a hand down firmly on his shoulder.
"Don't even think about it. I'd rather not get lectured by the old man Yamamoto afterward."
"Let me hold them off a little longer, then give Bankai a shot..."
Kyōraku gently shook his head and swept a glance across the battlefield, confirming that all of the Shinigami casualties on their side had already been carried away by the support units.
He looked at the wounds on Grimmjow's body that had already closed, then looked at his own tattered coat. A flash of resolve crossed his eyes.
"I'm going in! Ukitake!"
The words barely left his mouth before Kyōraku launched himself off the Spirit Particles beneath his feet and charged toward the two Arrancars.
A straight-line charge?
Grimmjow spread his right claw wide. A ball of Spiritual Pressure gathered between his fingers like a crackling bolt of lightning, condensing into form—
Gran Rey Cero—!
If he took a blast like that head-on, would he have anything left to open Bankai with?
Kyōraku didn't know. But he'd passed the point of no return—so he had to try anyway.
"Mr. Kyōraku——! Watch out!"
In the instant before the Gran Rey Cero was about to slam into Kyōraku's chest, a dark figure—blue, white, and black—burst onto the scene with a frantic, furious shout, materializing directly in front of him in a heartbeat.
The three-colored Shihakushō snapped and billowed from the sheer speed of the movement. Ichigo Kurosaki raised his right hand—that weapon that was half-bow, half-blade—and slashed forward, carving a crescent of black light through the air.
The terrifying Gran Rey Cero was split cleanly in two. Both halves tore onward, undiminished, straight toward Grimmjow and Starrk.
—Who the hell is this?!
Death was upon them in an instant. Starrk, at long last, showed what it actually meant to be No. 1. He activated his Hōgyoku-enhanced Resurrección in a single flash—
Infinite Gran Rey Cero barrage—!
Ichigo's dark crescent slashes and Starrk's endless stream of azure Ceros locked against each other, grinding and devouring one another with savage fury. The shockwave of clashing Spiritual Pressures detonated outward in every direction.
Starrk had no idea how many times he pulled the trigger before he finally managed to blot out the casual crescent that orange-haired boy had tossed forward without a second thought.
"Ichigo?! What are you doing here?"
Kyōraku's pupils contracted slightly. His right foot slammed down sideways to kill his momentum in an emergency stop.
He had never expected this boy to appear here, at this moment, in this way. He'd been certain that Isshin Kurosaki had already taken his family to shelter in a neighboring city.
"It's a long story. I didn't know I'd end up getting transferred to Soul Society either..."
Probably a tale involving an accidental release of Spiritual Pressure, drawing the attention of Chōjirō Sasakibe, who then sent him back to the battlefield in the World of the Living.
Bottom line: Ichigo Kurosaki was a catastrophically uneven student. He had never been taught—and had never bothered to learn—minor skills like opening a Senkaimon on his own.
Ichigo Kurosaki arriving on the battlefield in his three-in-one Shikai state made the Captain-Commander's eyes light up in a flash of recognition.
But first, Ichigo glanced over in Soifon's direction.
After she gave him a single confirming nod, the next second, he flickered—and reappeared behind both Grimmjow and Starrk.
"Sorry, you two—take a nap for a bit."
Two lines of crimson mist sprayed from their bodies, and both Arrancars crumpled from the sky and plummeted toward the ground below.
"You son of a..." Grimmjow snarled through clenched teeth as darkness swallowed his vision, and he fell toward the streets far beneath.
"Finally clocking out... though it stings a little."
A beat slower than Grimmjow, Starrk followed suit—peacefully closing his eyes.
____
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