At this moment, Kurosaki Ichigo stood with an irritated expression, glaring at the bespectacled young man before him. His brows furrowed in visible frustration.
"Ishida Uryū, right?" Ichigo asked, his tone edged with impatience. "You say you're a Quincy, but what does that have to do with me? Why are you getting in my way?"
At first, Ichigo had no interest in becoming a Substitute Shinigami. He never intended to risk his life fighting Hollows, nor did he feel any obligation to shoulder such a burden. However, after experiencing countless battles and witnessing the suffering of others, he had gradually come to understand the responsibility that came with his newfound powers. He had developed a sense of duty, a realization that there were people who needed protection.
But what he hadn't expected was competition—competition over killing Hollows.
For the past few days, every Hollow that had appeared in Karakura Town was swiftly taken down by Ishida Uryū before Ichigo could even act. At first, Ichigo hadn't given it much thought. If someone else was handling the problem, then that was less work for him. He might have even considered it a good thing.
However, Ishida's reasoning was something else entirely.
"I've already told you," Ishida said, adjusting his glasses with a sharp glint in his eyes. "I hate the Shinigami more than anything. And now, I want to prove that the Quincy are stronger than you so-called Death Gods."
Ichigo let out a sigh, his patience wearing thin. "This is ridiculous."
Of all the things to fight over, why was this guy so obsessed with proving himself superior? Students should focus on their studies, not waste time on pointless battles. If Ishida had that much free time, he could put it to better use—like catching up on homework.
Ishida raised an eyebrow, clearly unfazed by Ichigo's dismissive attitude. "Ah, I see. Now I understand. You're just the Shinigami's lapdog, aren't you? A puppet dancing to your master's strings. Without orders, you wouldn't dare make a move."
As a hot-blooded, short-tempered high schooler, Ichigo could not tolerate such provocation.
"You bastard!" he growled.
Without hesitation, Ichigo reached into the plush bear he always carried and pulled out the Soul Candy dispenser. Popping a pill into his mouth, he immediately felt his spirit separate from his physical body. In an instant, his Shinigami form took over.
The modified soul inhabiting his body—Kon—crossed his arms and pouted. "I told you not to be so rough! You're so rude! How dare you treat Master Kon like this? I should make you pay for this!"
Ignoring the protest, Ichigo tightened his grip on Zangetsu, the massive cleaver-like Zanpakutō resting on his shoulder. His fiery gaze locked onto Ishida. "Since you're asking for a beating, I'll be happy to oblige."
Ishida smirked, unfazed by Ichigo's transformation. "Hmph. How unprofessional. I will definitely win this time."
Ichigo exhaled sharply, impatience clear in his stance. "Enough talking. Just tell me—how do you want to compete?"
Ishida pulled out a small, coin-like object between his fingers and held it up. His expression remained calm, his tone unwavering.
"It's simple. We'll compete to see who can kill the most Hollows in the next twenty-four hours. Whoever slays more wins. Sounds fair, doesn't it?"
Ichigo frowned. Something about this challenge gave him a bad feeling.
"And that thing in your hand?" he asked warily.
Ishida smirked, as if he had been waiting for that very question. "This is bait. When crushed, it releases a spiritual signal that attracts Hollows. Once scattered, they will come swarming toward us."
Before Ichigo could even react, Ishida crushed the small object between his fingers.
A sudden gust of wind swept through the area. The sky, once clear, darkened as ominous black cracks began appearing overhead. These eerie fractures in space, resembling jagged scars, spread outward, distorting the very fabric of reality.
From within the void, deep, guttural roars echoed through the air. Hollow after Hollow emerged, their monstrous forms materializing as they peered down at Karakura Town with their grotesque masks. Their insatiable hunger radiated from their bodies in waves of suffocating spiritual pressure.
The effects were immediate.
Ordinary humans with even the faintest traces of spiritual sensitivity found their breathing growing heavy. A wave of unease washed over them, yet they had no understanding of why they suddenly felt this way.
Among them, individuals with higher spiritual awareness—Kurosaki Karin, Inoue Orihime, and Sado Yasutora [Chad]—instantly recognized the looming danger. Their instincts screamed at them, warning them of the impending threat, yet they were powerless to stop it.
Ichigo, however, had no time to worry about Ishida's reckless actions. His first concern was his sister.
"Damn it!" he cursed, his grip tightening on Zangetsu.
Without another word, he abandoned his argument with Ishida and sprinted toward the direction where he could sense Karin's presence.
Meanwhile, in the Soul Society, Uehara Shiroha had already witnessed everything unfold.
Thanks to his mastery of Observation Haki—far surpassing even the legendary mind-reading abilities of Enel—he could monitor the entire Three Realms at once. His perception was so refined that not even the smallest disturbance escaped his notice.
Compared to his prowess, even the omniscient abilities seen in the Thousand-Year Blood War paled in comparison.
He was the ultimate observer—"a scholar who knows everything without ever leaving home."
His gaze settled on Kurosaki Ichigo, now in his Shinigami form. He had to admit, Ichigo's spiritual pressure was impressive, and his distinct, rugged Shinigami appearance suited him.
It was just a pity that he lacked control.
At that moment, as he casually walked through the streets of Soul Society, a system notification rang in his mind.
[Congratulations, Host! You have completed your daily task: Soak in the hot springs to relieve fatigue. Reward: +1 Spiritual Pressure, +1 Shunpo!]
A surge of warmth flooded through his body, and almost instantly, he felt a noticeable increase in both his spiritual pressure and physical prowess.
He nodded to himself in satisfaction.
The effects of these attribute bonuses, though seemingly small, were invaluable. After all, when even eating hot pot and singing songs could significantly enhance his strength, there was no reason to doubt the effectiveness of such unconventional methods.
Yes. This was the most efficient and perfect way to grow stronger.
As he strolled leisurely, a sudden shift in the atmosphere caught his attention. From the shadows, a figure emerged—a Shinigami stepping forward with precise, disciplined movements.
The man, a high-ranking member of the Onmitsukidō, dropped to one knee before him, holding up a document with both hands.
"Commander Uehara," the Shinigami reported, his voice steady yet respectful, "there is a new order from Central 46."
Uehara Shiroha picked up the report and scanned the contents. The message was concise, yet alarming:
"Captain of the Second Division, Suì-Fēng, was ambushed by an enemy in the Human World—Naruki City—and requires immediate rescue!"
His lips curled slightly, a glint of amusement flashing in his eyes.
"A rescue mission, huh? That should be the jurisdiction of the Fifth Division… but then again, Aizen can't exactly issue orders to himself, can he?" he mused.
It seemed that ever since Aizen took control of the Central 46, he had grown bold—perhaps even a little too confident. Hairspray Master is feeling himself again, huh? Uehara thought with an inward chuckle. He was curious to see what new schemes Aizen had concocted this time.
Strangely enough, this situation also seemed to confirm an offhand remark from Yoruichi Shihōin. Just recently, she had commented that Suì-Fēng might find herself in trouble soon. And now? Here was the urgent distress call.
"That woman's intuition is terrifying."
It was clear as day—this was no random attack. The entire situation reeked of Aizen's manipulations. Uehara Shiroha knew better than anyone that the real Central 46 was no more. That so-called governing body had been reduced to a mere graveyard, with only corpses left behind. Any orders coming from them now? All forged, all issued by none other than Aizen.
In fact, it was somewhat amusing how the other Shinigami still hadn't caught on. With Tōsen overseeing affairs in Seireitei, everything ran too smoothly. The Gotei 13 had grown complacent, marveling at how the Central 46 had suddenly become so "fair and just." The usual bureaucratic delays and political games were gone, replaced by swift and efficient rulings.
The mood in Soul Society had even improved because of it.
"Tōsen really out here doing his best."
But now, of all times, a crisis in Naruki City? It was too much of a coincidence.
Shiroha could see through Aizen's plan instantly. This was nothing more than a diversion—a ploy to lure him away, ensuring he wouldn't interfere in Karakura Town at a critical moment. At the same time, it served as a test. Aizen wanted to gauge Uehara's growth, to see if he had any interest in the Hōgyoku.
"So meticulous. Truly worthy of being the King of Hair Gel."
Aizen was careful. Until the moment he fused with the Hōgyoku, he had never once slipped up. His strategies were airtight, flawless. Only after obtaining the power of evolution did his arrogance begin to show. That was when he let go of Kyoka Suigetsu—believing he no longer needed illusions.
And yet, in the Thousand-Year Blood War, what happened?
Aizen's ultimate trump card was still Kyoka Suigetsu.
In the final battle, when the Soul King's will manifested, it was Aizen's illusions that turned the tide. His supposed "discarded" power ended up being the very thing that dictated the fight.
"How ironic."
Understanding Aizen's intent, Uehara Shiroha didn't hesitate.
With a single step, he vanished from Soul Society.
He wasn't going to Naruki City for Suì-Fēng's sake—not because of any " favor" from Yoruichi. He was simply going because he wanted to.
Just as his figure disappeared, the Onmitsukidō agent who had delivered the report rose from his kneeling position, giving a silent nod before vanishing into the shadows.
The moment Uehara Shiroha arrived in the Human World, he could see everything far more clearly than he had back in Soul Society.
In Karakura Town, Kurosaki Ichigo and Ishida Uryū were struggling to fend off the onslaught of Hollows. The sheer number of enemies was overwhelming, far exceeding what should have been drawn in by a mere Hollow Bait.
Even Rukia, despite her weakened Shinigami powers, had joined the fight. Alongside her were Jinta Hanakari and Ururu Tsumugiya, the two children working under Urahara Kisuke.
"That bait should never have attracted this many Hollows."
This was Aizen's work.
His goal was obvious—he wanted to force Ichigo Kurosaki to awaken more of his latent power.
To do so, Aizen had amplified the crisis.
Somewhere in the midst of battle, Ishida Uryū was gasping for breath, sweat dripping down his face. His hands trembled, his fingers raw from the repeated strain of firing Heilig Pfeil. His Quincy bow flickered with unstable Reishi, his spiritual energy rapidly draining.
This was beyond what he had anticipated.
"T-This bait is… too effective!" he thought in shock.
Earlier, Ishida had boldly declared that no one would be harmed. He had sworn that he alone would handle every Hollow drawn in by the bait.
Now?
Now, he was drowning.
The Ishida family had a proud legacy, but they had a terrible habit of overestimating themselves. Uryū had inherited that same flaw.
Before throwing themselves into battle, the Ishida men would always act strong and untouchable. But once the real fight started, reality hit like a slap to the face.
"Like father, like son."
Uehara Shiroha recalled Ishida Ryūken—Uryū's father—who had once faced a similarly crushing defeat.
"If nothing else, you Ishidas sure know how to provide entertainment."
Without them, the long centuries would've been dull.
But his attention quickly shifted to Naruki City.
On the battlefield, Suì-Fēng was in motion.
Her tight-fitting black combat attire barely rippled as she weaved through the fight with surgical precision. Her Zanpakutō, Suzumebachi, was already in its Shikai form, leaving its deadly "death marks" on her enemies.
At first glance, it seemed as if she had the situation under control.
But Uehara Shiroha wasn't fooled.
There was something else lurking in the battle—a hidden danger not yet revealed.
Aizen's true gift.
Without hesitation, Uehara Shiroha moved toward it.
He wasn't concerned about the ambush. He had absolute confidence in his power. With his Unlimited Blade Works and the Mind Stone, not even a group of veteran Captains could pose a threat to him.
Aizen—without his Hōgyoku fusion—was nothing more than an annoyance.
This so-called trap was nothing more than a formality. A show put on for the sake of the audience.
And Uehara?
He was more than willing to play along.
Deep underground, in a hidden monitoring room, alarms blared as a spiritual pressure signature was detected.
Tōsen turned toward Aizen, his expression unreadable. "Lord Aizen, Uehara Shiroha has arrived."
Aizen nodded, his calm gaze never leaving the screen.
Ichimaru Gin, leaning against the wall, let out a chuckle. His eyes—half-lidded as always—glinted with amusement. "Knowing it's a trap, yet stepping right into it. Ain't that a little too heroic?"
Tōsen's expression flickered.
His feelings toward Uehara Shiroha were… complicated.
On one hand, he feared him.
Uehara possessed the strength to interfere with their plans. He was a wildcard—an unknown factor. That alone made him a potential enemy.
But on the other hand…
He respected him.
Among all of Soul Society, only Uehara Shiroha and the Court Army had remained pure. They weren't tainted by the corruption that ran rampant through the nobility and the Gotei 13.
"A man who truly upholds justice… yet, if he stands against Lord Aizen…"
Then there was only one outcome.
"Even if I regret it, he must be eliminated."
Aizen, however, simply smiled.
"Gin," he murmured, his voice carrying an amused edge. "Don't be so quick to judge."
His gaze flickered with quiet intrigue.
He never expected the traps to actually work.
Just as Uehara Shiroha approached Suì-Fēng's location, an invisible force suddenly surged through the air, engulfing the entire area in a suffocating spiritual pressure.
Almost immediately, he felt a suppression on his Zanpakutō's ability.
"A sealing field?"
If even Shunkyō—his own space-time Zanpakutō—could feel a fraction of its effects, then ordinary Captains wouldn't even be able to activate their Shikai.
His Observation Haki spread outward, confirming his suspicions.
Suì-Fēng's Suzumebachi had already been sealed. Without her Shikai, she had lost a significant portion of her speed-based combat advantage. Forced to rely solely on her Hakuda and base-level Reiatsu, she was now locked in a desperate struggle.
Her situation was dire.
"A field that seals Zanpakutō abilities…"
His mind immediately recalled a certain mutant Hollow—the same one responsible for the death of Shiba Kaien.
That creature's unique ability had rendered Zanpakutō useless, making it an absolute counter to Shinigami who depended on their blades for combat. In the past, that very Hollow had been an experiment—a mere test subject for Aizen's research.
"If Aizen studied its abilities, then it's possible he's replicated them."
Of course, there had to be limitations. If Aizen could completely seal all Zanpakutō on a large scale, he would have used it against the Gotei 13 long ago. That ability had never appeared in the original timeline, which meant one of two things—either it was too unstable to be used widely, or it had certain conditions that limited its deployment.
Still, if Aizen went through all the trouble to recreate this ability, it meant one thing—he was wary of other Zanpakutō abilities, especially those he couldn't control.
That was just how he operated.
Before Uehara could act, two streams of light tore through the sky, shattering the black void of a Garganta.
A pair of ominous spiritual pressures erupted from the impact site, rising into the air like twin black pillars.
"This is..."
Uehara's eyes narrowed slightly.
In a blur of motion, he used Shunpo, reappearing in an instant near the source of the disturbance.
The oppressive Reiatsu that filled the air carried a sense of madness, hunger, and malice, yet it was different from pure Hollow energy.
No, this was something far worse.
"Arrancar."
And not just any Arrancar.
These weren't low-level cannon fodder.
The weight of their spiritual energy—the sheer density of their presence—placed them far above the standard Adjuchas-class.
They were Vasto Lorde-tier Arrancar.
From across the battlefield, Suì-Fēng's breath hitched slightly. She could feel the sudden spike in spiritual pressure, and her already precarious situation instantly worsened.
The bull-headed Arrancar she was fighting was already pushing her to the brink. Now, with two more enemies of even greater strength arriving, the balance of the battle had tipped dangerously against her.
If she still had access to Suzumebachi, she might have had a chance.
If she could activate her Bankai, she might have been able to risk everything.
This particular mission had loosened restrictions, allowing her to use her Bankai in case of emergencies.
But now?
Now, she couldn't even summon it.
A powerful Zanpakutō sealing field had trapped her within its grasp, leaving her helpless against the overwhelming force that bore down on her.
If it weren't for the faint flicker of spiritual pressure she recognized—his spiritual pressure—she might have already lost all hope.
Yet, even with his presence, the situation remained bleak.
Because if her Zanpakutō was sealed, wouldn't his be as well?
Uehara Shiroha, of course, had deliberately leaked his Reiatsu, allowing Suì-Fēng to sense him.
Hope first… then despair.
It was far more entertaining that way.
If Suì-Fēng knew what was really going through his mind, she would undoubtedly curse him to hell and back.
For him, this life-and-death battle of hers was nothing more than an amusing performance—a show put on for his entertainment.
Too cruel?
Maybe.
But it was also fun.
That said, he wasn't entirely heartless.
Even under the effects of the sealing field, his Shunkyō could still function.
Its power had been weakened, but it hadn't been completely nullified.
After all, his Zanpakutō was fundamentally different from others.
A high-tier space-time Zanpakutō like Shunkyō couldn't be sealed by any ordinary means.
Of course, as far as everyone else was concerned, his Zanpakutō ability was "White Season"—a fabricated ability.
"Your Zanpakutō got sealed? What does that have to do with me?"
He moved again.
In a flash, Uehara Shiroha arrived at the impact site.
Standing in the sky, he cast a glance downward.
A massive Hollow—so large that it resembled a living mountain—was rampaging through the city, leaving devastation in its wake.
Everywhere he looked, humans fled in terror.
Panic filled the air.
Their desperate screams echoed through the ruined streets, their faces twisted in horror.
They couldn't even see the creatures that hunted them.
To them, it was as if an unseen force was crushing their world—an invisible nightmare, one they could neither fight nor escape.
And in the midst of their suffering, two Arrancar laughed.
The massive humanoid Arrancar on the ground bore blood-red eyes, its razor-sharp fangs bared in a twisted grin.
Above, a winged Arrancar soared through the sky, its black wings blotting out the sun as it watched from above.
These weren't mere killers.
They were predators, reveling in the fear of their prey.
The humans were nothing but playthings—toys in a cruel game.
Their laughter—twisted, gleeful, sadistic—echoed across the battlefield.
It was clear.
This wasn't their first time doing this.
They had done this before.
Many times.
And they enjoyed it.
Then, in an instant—Uehara Shiroha moved.
His figure blinked from the sky, appearing directly on the ground.
For a moment, the two Arrancar stopped.
Their laughter died down.
They stared at him.
Then, almost as if remembering something, the massive Arrancar let out a deep, guttural laugh.
"So it's you, huh?" the creature sneered, its voice filled with mocking amusement.
Its blood-red eyes locked onto him.
"The Shinigami named Uehara Shiroha?"
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