["Uryū, have you been going to your grandfather's again lately?"]
The silver-haired man stood beside the bookshelf, flipping through the medical records in his hand as he spoke.
It was phrased as a question, yet there was no real inquiry in his tone.
He already knew the answer. Asking was simply his way of forcing the child beside him to think for himself.
Uryū Ishida clutched the strap of his schoolbag, his eyes behind his glasses shimmering with restrained grievance as he looked at the profile of his father, Ryūken Ishida.
Outside the wide floor-to-ceiling windows, the setting sun burned red like spilled blood. Fiery clouds drifted across the horizon, as if trying to hold back the dying light.
["How many times have I told you…"]
Ryūken Ishida turned another page of the records.
["Don't go there anymore."]
["But… but…"]
["Making excuses again."]
Ryūken Ishida cut him off. He had no interest in listening; he already knew what the answer would be.
["I've said that before, too."]
["Saving the dead is meaningless. That's the Shinigami's job. If you insist on learning something, learn how to save the living."]
His voice remained calm and even.
["I have no interest in it, and you have no talent. The Quincy line should have ended with your grandfather's generation. Do you understand?"]
"Dad… Father…" Uryū Ishida's voice was faint. "Why do you reject the Quincy so much?"
Ryūken Ishida turned his head.
"Because you can't make money with it."
The answer was so simple, so blunt, that Uryū Ishida almost questioned why he had bothered to ask.
But… it shouldn't be like this.
Even so, the young Uryū Ishida still went to see his grandfather.
The tears he forced himself not to shed in front of his father flowed freely the moment he stood before his grandfather.
"All right… he isn't entirely wrong." His grandfather crouched down in front of the crying Uryū Ishida. "It's true that you can't make a living as a Quincy these days. He has a family to support, after all. That's something he has to consider. And you're the same, Uryū."
"But… but…" Uryū Ishida wiped at his tears with force. "I can see them… the Hollows… and the people attacked by Hollows… The Shinigami can't handle everything on their own. I've seen it with my own eyes…"
Raging monsters. Weeping souls. Fragile Shinigami.
Once you see it, you can't help wanting to do something.
But…
"Why… Dad can see them too… So why… why can he still say things like that?" Uryū Ishida clenched his fists tightly. "Master… I want to grow stronger! I'll become the strongest Quincy and protect everyone from Hollows! If I do that… I think Dad… he'll acknowledge the Quincy's existence too…"
"Thank you, Uryū." Grandfather looked at him with gentle kindness. "But what a person chooses to protect shapes the justice they believe in. You should try to understand his way of thinking as well."
"What does Dad want to protect…? Money?"
"You'll understand… someday." Grandfather's warm hand rested on Uryū Ishida's head, gently ruffling his hair. "When that time comes, you'll also understand what it is you truly want to protect."
…
Uryū Ishida rose to his feet.
Surging Reishi gathered above him like a cloud, then split into countless thin strands that connected to different parts of his body.
Mayuri Kurotsuchi retreated slightly, watching him closely. After being struck by Ashisogi Jizō, Uryū Ishida's limbs should have been completely paralyzed.
And yet, he was standing.
Mayuri Kurotsuchi narrowed his eyes, noting the strange configuration of the Reishi.
This is… Ransōtengai.
Threadlike streams of Reishi intertwined and wove together, linking the parts of Uryū Ishida's body that could no longer move. Like manipulating a puppet on strings, they forcibly drove his body into motion.
It had originally been devised by elderly Quincy whose bodies had grown too frail to fight, a technique that allowed them to continue battling Hollows. Torn tendons, broken bones—before this method, such injuries became irrelevant.
It was the ultimate combat spirit art born from a Quincy's mastery over Reishi, created for the sake of fighting until the very last moment.
"I thought it had long since been lost, existing only in written records," Mayuri Kurotsuchi said, staring at Uryū Ishida. "Among the 2,661 individuals I've studied, not one even grasped the basics of it."
"At such a young age, you can use both Hirenkyaku and Ransōtengai." The corners of Mayuri Kurotsuchi's lips curled upward. "Should I call you a genius? Or would you prefer… 'high-quality test subject'?"
Uryū Ishida formed his Reishi bow, placing his hand against the forked extension of the glove.
The Sanrei Glove.
It was a keepsake left to him by his grandfather, a glove capable of dispersing Reishi in an extremely concentrated form.
For an ordinary Quincy, once the glove was worn, the overwhelming dispersal force alone would make it difficult even to hold a bow and arrow.
If one could draw the bow and sustain it for seven days and seven nights, they would reach a state approaching the highest realm of a Quincy.
But once that was accomplished, the glove could never be removed again.
At that point, the Reishi contraction force would exceed a Quincy's limits. Though it granted an immense surge of power for a short time, the over-condensed Reishi would ultimately erase all Quincy abilities.
What… am I doing?
Uryū Ishida tightened his fingers and snapped off the forked prongs of the Sanrei Glove.
He wanted to prove his own strength, yet he had witnessed the strength of the Shinigami.
He sought power beyond the Shinigami, secluded himself to train, only to return and save them.
He wanted to support his comrades, and now he had to stake everything here…
The instant the Sanrei Glove shattered, the suppressed compression force vanished. Wild Reishi roared into Uryū Ishida's body.
A white outfit lined with deep blue stripes wrapped around him. Above his right shoulder, a strange apparatus formed, forcibly gathering the surrounding Reishi into the shape of a single wing.
Maybe, just as Muten Natsu said… I really am crazy.
I'm sorry, Master.
Even now, I still don't understand Father's thoughts.
I still don't know what I want to protect.
But…
Gripping the silver-white longbow in his hand, Uryū Ishida stood tall within the storm of Reishi.
I know what I have to do.
"What… is this…?!" Mayuri Kurotsuchi's eyes bulged as if they might burst from their sockets. "And this Reiatsu… what is this?! How could I not know something like this exists? Just what are you—"
His voice cut off abruptly.
The surrounding bricks and tiles began to disintegrate, drawn into the single wing on Uryū Ishida's shoulder.
Everything in Soul Society was composed of Reishi. At this moment, Uryū Ishida was breaking apart those bonds and absorbing them, turning them into his own power.
This was no longer simple Reishi gathering.
It was Reishi subjugation.
"Boy, your power has already surpassed the realm of humans!" Sweat beaded on Mayuri Kurotsuchi's forehead. "How long can you maintain it?"
Uryū Ishida raised his hand. The light wing extended, its lines folding and converging into his palm, condensing into a solid arrow.
The moment Mayuri Kurotsuchi saw that arrow, he retreated without hesitation.
A flash of light closed the distance instantly. Mayuri twisted aside to evade.
The arrow was fast, but not beyond evasion… Mayuri's gaze suddenly froze, Uryū Ishida's figure reflected in his eyes.
Before his evasive movement was even complete, Uryū Ishida had already fired a second arrow.
Boom!
"Beg the souls for mercy," Uryū Ishida said coldly, watching the smoke gradually disperse. "Then disappear from my sight forever. If you do, I might spare your life."
"Huff… huff…" Mayuri Kurotsuchi collapsed to one knee. His entire left arm, along with part of his shoulder, had been erased by that strike. "Don't get carried away, you brat!"
He roared hoarsely, blood vessels bursting across his left eyeball.
"A mere Quincy… Bankai!"
The infant face at the end of Ashisogi Jizō's blade opened its eyes, revealing ghastly white pupils.
The already grotesque Zanpakutō swelled and twisted like a living creature, transforming into a massive worm crowned with a golden infant's head. A silver halo inscribed with strange characters encircled its head. Its enormous body filled the broad avenue, exhaling thick purple poison.
"Konjiki Ashisogi Jizō!" Mayuri Kurotsuchi stood before the worm-like Bankai, as small as an insect before a human. "My Bankai atomizes a lethal toxin extracted from my own blood and disperses it within a hundred-meter radius. Of course… I won't die."
A savage grin split his face. From beneath the golden infant head of Konjiki Ashisogi Jizō, dozens of razor-sharp blades suddenly sprang outward.
"But you will."
The monstrous worm lurched forward like a derailed train, emitting the shrill cry of a baby as its writhing body surged past Mayuri Kurotsuchi and charged toward Uryū Ishida.
Uryū Ishida lifted his hand.
Drew the bow.
Released.
A brilliant blue beam shot forward, piercing everything in its path without resistance.
For a brief moment, there was only silence.
Then came the howl of wind and the rupture of flesh.
The enormous body of Konjiki Ashisogi Jizō was split cleanly in two, the flesh at its center erased as though wiped away.
In the direction Uryū Ishida's longbow pointed, nothing remained.
Everything along that path had been obliterated.
On either side lay the trembling purple flesh of Konjiki Ashisogi Jizō, deep trenches carved into the ground, settling smoke, and the steady drip of blood.
And the half-exposed spine of Mayuri Kurotsuchi.
A horrifying, gaping hole tore through the center of Mayuri's mangled body. His upper and lower halves were connected by nothing more than a strip of muscle at his right waist.
Anyone else would have collapsed by now.
But as the head of the Research and Development Institute, Mayuri had modified his body countless times. It was those alterations that allowed him to carry out one final action despite such devastating injuries.
"Damn it… damn it…" Mayuri Kurotsuchi lifted the broken half of his Zanpakutō. "A mere Quincy!"
Just as Uryū Ishida moved in to attack, Mayuri drove the blade straight into his own throat.
Pfft!
The remaining flesh burst apart, dissolving into green liquid that sprayed outward and slipped free from his Shihakushō.
"This is my final ability…" Sensing Uryū Ishida's intent, the liquefied Mayuri Kurotsuchi slowly seeped into the cracks between the bricks. "It's useless. I can't attack in this state, but no one can harm me either. I'll remain like this for the next few days… But Quincy, you've already been poisoned. You die… I live!"
Uryū Ishida swayed as an unnatural bluish-purple spread across his skin.
The toxin had already taken hold.
Even though he had struck as quickly as possible, he had still inhaled the poison.
Darkness crept into his vision. He staggered toward Yasutora Sado, but before he could reach him, he collapsed.
Rapid footsteps echoed as a large group rushed in.
"Deploy the Purifying Barrier. Squad 7, treat Nemu Kurotsuchi. Squads 2 and 3, treat the Ryoka. Squads 8 and 9, escort the pursuers for transfer." A gentle voice gave the orders calmly. "I'll prepare the antidote."
Isane Kotetsu looked at the fallen Ryoka and couldn't help feeling uneasy.
I wonder… how is Muten Natsu doing?
...
"What are you trying to do to him?!" Ichigo Kurosaki stepped in front of Muten Natsu, glaring at Ganju Shiba.
"Move!" Ganju Shiba roared. "He killed my brother!"
"I saved you, didn't I?" Ririn shot back. "You're not even going to mention that?"
When Muten Natsu saw it was Ichigo Kurosaki, he told Ririn to dispel the illusion.
Under Ririn's cover, they fled together into the underground sewers.
"That's a different matter!" Ganju Shiba's eyes locked onto Muten Natsu within the golden barrier. "I came here for him!"
Ichigo Kurosaki blocked him. "Didn't we say we'd find out the truth first?"
"…Fine!" Ganju Shiba ground his teeth. "Muten Natsu, say it yourself. Did you kill my Aniki, Kaien Shiba?"
"Kaien…" Muten Natsu murmured weakly. "Yes. I killed him."
"What else is there to say?!" Ganju Shiba raised his blade. "Move!"
"Wait!" Ichigo Kurosaki wrapped his arms around Ganju Shiba to hold him back. "Muten Natsu, why?!"
"There's no reason." Muten Natsu closed his eyes. "I just wanted to kill him."
"You—!" Ganju Shiba's eyes burned with fury. "I'll kill you!"
"Muten…" Orihime Inoue pressed her hands against her Sōten Kisshun Shields. "You don't want to run from what you've done, do you?"
Muten Natsu lowered his gaze slightly.
"I can understand how you feel… really." Orihime Inoue bit her lower lip gently. "When you know you were part of the cause, you don't want to make excuses for yourself. If someone can blame you, it almost feels easier."
Ichigo Kurosaki froze, staring blankly at her profile.
Her sorrowful eyes looked through the barrier at Muten Natsu.
Focused, yet tender.
"But the ones who were hurt," Orihime Inoue said softly, "don't need someone to blame. They need the truth."
A truth that lets us face the past, face ourselves, and understand what we did—so we don't repeat the same tragedy again.
Muten Natsu avoided her gaze. "But…"
Orihime Inoue smiled faintly.
"Then at least… let me be blamed with you."