It was still that sun-drenched Namimori Middle School. High above the school grounds, a small yellow bird drifted lazily through the air, chirping the Namimori school anthem as it flew.
Within this warm and peaceful world, a cold and out-of-place figure appeared behind the school grounds. With his hands tucked into his pockets, Muramasa walked toward the school building. He could clearly sense that the Zanpakutō spirit of Sawada Tsunayoshi was inside.
Behind him, Tsunayoshi had also appeared, now wearing the Namimori school uniform. Muramasa turned his head and asked,
"Do you think you can stop me?"
Tsuna spread his hands, looking completely unconcerned.
"You're overthinking it. I'm just here to watch the show."
Muramasa froze for a moment.
He had seen Shinigami who desperately begged their Zanpakutō not to betray them. He had also seen those who stood firm and fearless against him.
But someone who came just to watch the show?
What kind of Shinigami was that supposed to be?
Was he deliberately here to watch how Muramasa hypnotized his Zanpakutō?
"Alright, hurry up. I'll tell you where they are."
Tsuna casually walked up and patted Muramasa on the shoulder as if they were old acquaintances, then headed straight into the school building.
Muramasa stiffly turned his gaze. He still couldn't understand Tsuna's behavior, but it didn't stop him from following inside. After all, he had absolute confidence in his own ability.
However, the moment Muramasa stepped inside the school, the entire inner world changed dramatically.
The warm school under the daylight vanished.
In its place stood a towering and magnificent castle.
Outside, the world had turned dark, and a full moon hung high in the sky.
When Muramasa entered, he realized that Tsuna had disappeared without him noticing. He now stood inside a vast hall. Luxurious decorations filled the room—everything looked incredibly expensive.
A red carpet stretched from beneath Muramasa's feet all the way into the depths of the hall.
Anyone normal would instantly realize something was wrong—what kind of school interior looked like this?
But Muramasa had never seen a normal school before.
So he didn't find anything strange.
Following the red carpet inward, he soon reached its end. Several luxurious sofas were arranged there.
And seated on the central sofa was the person Muramasa had come to find.
Muramasa's otherwise expressionless face showed a trace of disturbance.
He was certain—the man sitting there with one leg crossed and his hands folded was indeed the Zanpakutō spirit he was searching for.
But why…
Why did this man look almost identical to the Shinigami he had invaded?
He looked like a more mature, enlarged version of him.
"You're looking for me?"
A powerful aura of authority pressed down on him.
Muramasa stopped in his tracks.
For some reason, he suddenly lacked the courage to take another step forward.
Just how powerful was this Zanpakutō spirit?
"My name is Muramasa. I've come to help you break free from the control of your Shinigami."
Muramasa unconsciously used honorific language.
"You think I'm being controlled?"
That simple question shook Muramasa's confidence.
He even began to feel that a Zanpakutō spirit of this level might not be controllable by anyone at all.
No.
He couldn't let himself be dragged into the other party's rhythm.
Muramasa shook his head. If he failed to turn this Zanpakutō spirit against its master, he didn't even dare imagine the consequences of leaving here.
So he continued with his usual persuasion—assisted by his whispering ability that carried a hypnotic influence.
"Zanpakutō are slaves exploited by Shinigami. We give everything, yet Shinigami can never understand our thoughts. We should have the right to choose our own lives… our own freedom—"
"If that's all you came to say, you can leave."
An invisible pressure slammed into Muramasa.
He forced himself to stand firm and refused to take a step back.
"Please give me a little more time…"
He struggled to continue.
But then a mocking laugh sounded from above his head.
"I'm dying from laughter. Instead of persuading Vongola, you might as well persuade me. If you manage to amuse me, I might even help you go out and beat up little Tsuna."
Muramasa looked up.
On a nearby windowsill sat a white-haired man dressed in white, clutching his stomach as he laughed.
Beside him, on another windowsill, stood the smaller Shinigami who had brought him here—Tsuna.
Tsuna stared at the white-haired man with a speechless expression.
"I have to say, Byakuran… how can you just switch sides like that?"
"What are you talking about? I've always done whatever I feel like."
Byakuran spoke as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"Going out to beat you up? It's not like you haven't taken plenty of beatings from me already."
Tsuna helplessly held his forehead.
The greatest obstacle in his training was Byakuran, who represented his Hollow power. While training his Resurrección, Tsuna had put in more than a hundred times the effort he used for his Shinigami powers.
"Of course you can!"
Muramasa seemed unable to detect the mockery in Byakuran's tone as he spread his arms temptingly.
"As long as you're willing to help me, I can find Zanpakutō all across Soul Society to entertain you—none of them will ever repeat!"
Muramasa didn't understand why there were two Zanpakutō spirits in Tsuna's inner world, but that didn't stop him from trying to trick one of them into opposing Tsuna.
If that happened, he could escape while Tsuna and Urahara Kisuke were tied down.
"Hmm… that does sound tempting."
Byakuran lazily cleaned his ear with his little finger.
"Such ordinary words, yet I can feel a slight urge to be persuaded. That must be your ability, right?"
Having witnessed countless wonders, Byakuran believed he followed only his own whims.
And yet just now, he had almost genuinely considered helping Muramasa.
If it were any other Zanpakutō spirit, how could they resist Muramasa's temptation?
"No! I'm not tempting you. Everything I said is true—"
"That's enough."
A powerful aura instantly cut off Muramasa's speech.
"Byakuran. Stop playing with him."
Byakuran spread his hands helplessly.
"You see? This is Vongola's territory. I still want to keep living here, so I can't help it. Sorry, little outsider."
Muramasa's corpse-like expression turned even darker.
Repeatedly hitting a wall like this felt terrible.
His fingers began to move subtly, his long nails twitching as if playing an invisible piano.
"Little Tsuna, this thing has really gone crazy—he actually dared to attack Vongola."
The white dragon leaned toward Tsuna and whispered.
He could see Muramasa's intentions instantly.
Since soft persuasion didn't work, he was switching to force.
Vongola was famous for being soft to the gentle but ruthless to the hard. In the past, countless families had tried to challenge them by force.
Their endings were all miserable.
Including Byakuran himself.
Muramasa's ten fingernails shot out ten invisible threads toward the Tenth Generation.
They were spiritual threads.
Once someone was bound by them, the effectiveness of Muramasa's whispers would multiply.
He refused to believe he couldn't control this Zanpakutō spirit.
Yet the Tenth Generation didn't move at all, allowing the threads to wrap around his body.
A faint mocking smile appeared on his normally stern face.
"Listen carefully! Come with me and attack your master! Kill him and enjoy freedom—enjoy the life that belongs to you!"
With the amplification of the spiritual threads, Muramasa abandoned persuasion and issued commands in an almost domineering tone.
A chorus of imaginary crows suddenly echoed through the hall.
Tsuna looked helplessly at the amused Byakuran.
Only he would have the leisure to play tricks on people like this.
"Why are you looking at me, little Tsuna? At awkward moments like this, there should obviously be crow sounds."
Byakuran said it as if it were completely logical.
"Stop resisting. Come with me!"
Muramasa shouted again, thinking the Tenth Generation was resisting the hypnosis.
"That's enough."
"I've seen enough of this clown show."
Muramasa suddenly heard a voice beside his ear.
Terrified, he turned his head.
The Tenth Generation had appeared next to him without him noticing.
One hand rested casually on Muramasa's shoulder.
With a roar—
Intense flames erupted from the Tenth Generation's hand.
The flames rapidly engulfed Muramasa's entire body, and a terrifying heat flooded his senses.
Muramasa stiffly turned his head, his eyes filled with fear.
Why?
Why was this Zanpakutō spirit completely unaffected by his control?
Seeing the confusion in Muramasa's eyes, the Tenth Generation explained gently:
"The reason is simple."
"I have no dissatisfaction with my current master."
A Zanpakutō like that actually existed?
Muramasa had never encountered such a thing before.
Even he himself—despite loving his master deeply—still occasionally felt dissatisfied with some of his master's decisions.
Was this Zanpakutō spirit completely without temper?
Byakuran curled his lips in disdain.
Little Tsuna was essentially another version of Vongola from a different world.
Who would ever rebel against themselves?
Under the burning flames, Muramasa had no ability to resist.
Or rather—he didn't even have the right to move.
The only option left to him was retreat.
Muramasa's body gradually faded as he withdrew from Tsuna's inner world.
The Tenth Generation didn't destroy him outright.
This was Tsuna's inner world. Ultimately, Tsuna himself had the final say.
"Cheh… ran away pretty fast."
Byakuran clicked his tongue.
The flames just now carried the Sky Attribute Flame.
If Muramasa had been even slightly slower, there would have been a new stone statue decorating this inner world.
Of course, that was only because the Tenth Generation had shown mercy.
He knew Muramasa was still useful to Tsuna.
If Byakuran had been the one handling Muramasa instead, Tsuna would have needed to fight him for several rounds first.
The Tenth Generation, however, was gentle—he handled everything quietly without needing Tsuna's reminder.
"Well then, I'm off. Tenth Generation, Byakuran—I'll come back and play with you two another day."
With Muramasa gone, Tsuna had no reason to remain in his inner world.
He needed to return to reality and control Muramasa first.
As Tsuna and Muramasa disappeared, only the Tenth Generation and Byakuran remained in the inner world.
Byakuran gazed at the night sky in boredom.
"Hey, Vongola… do you think we'll ever get to experience the excitement of this other world too?"
The Tenth Generation slowly returned to his seat.
Without looking at Byakuran, he quietly stared toward the hall's gate.
His eyes seemed capable of piercing through the inner world and seeing reality itself.
"We will."
"Believe in Tsuna."
"Belief doesn't need a reason."
Byakuran almost couldn't resist complaining.
Of course you, Vongola, wouldn't need a reason.
Not to mention little Tsuna was basically another version of you from this world—and you've never bullied him either.
Whenever there's any benefit, he always thinks of you first.
Byakuran silently began calculating in his heart.
Maybe he should help push little Tsuna's progress forward a bit.
Perhaps unlocking two more attributes of power for him.
Little Tsuna should be able to feel his goodwill… right?
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