"Hey, hey… the explosive power at this level is nearly equivalent to a mid-level Hadō."
Feeling the intense vibration and shockwaves coming from Enkōsen, Arata slightly furrowed his brows.
Thick black smoke rose into the sky, and the noise caused by the explosion alarmed the Kurokawa family members below, who rushed out of the estate from all directions to see what was happening.
The Void Mask had already been removed, and it wasn't advisable to stay here any longer.
Arata temporarily gave up the idea of uncovering the attacker's identity, turned around, and instantly retreated toward Rukongai. And the reason he didn't return directly to Seireitei was, of course, to avoid revealing his identity.
However, to his surprise, the person behind him stubbornly followed.
Even if Arata wasn't using his full strength, not everyone could keep up with his shunpō. That attacker was at least at the level of a vice-captain.
Quite interesting.
Arata zigzagged through Rukongai under the cover of night and eventually stopped in a narrow alley on the outskirts.
Thud.
Footsteps of two people echoed simultaneously. He turned and saw the other person wrapped in a tight black bodysuit, with only a pair of eyes visible.
However, no matter how she tried to hide, she couldn't conceal the full, feminine shape of her body.
Moreover, the bodysuit only made her curves appear more prominent.
"So, it's a woman?" Arata looked at the woman before him with interest. Could someone with such shunpō skill be from the Onmitsukidō?
However, those powerful bombs were nothing like the weapons of the secret mobile unit, and Arata had never heard of the Second Division possessing such an invention.
As Arata struggled to determine the woman's identity, she removed her mask, revealing a beautiful and familiar face.
"Sister Kūkaku?!" Arata's pupils suddenly contracted.
"Shhh…" Kūkaku pressed a finger to her lips and cautiously glanced around. "This isn't the place to talk."
Arata understood instantly and led her away, and in a few quick steps, they disappeared into the night.
The two of them sped away at full speed and finally arrived at the Kendo Club of the Shinō Spiritual Arts Academy.
Arata gently pushed the door open, and after checking with spiritual pressure that no one was nearby, Kūkaku finally sighed in relief and sat on the sofa in the lounge.
"I'm dead tired! You run faster than a rabbit!" She grabbed the bodysuit and tore it off, revealing a red-and-white sleeveless training kimono underneath, with a still-unhealed burn visible on her collarbone.
Arata brought out a tea set from the inner room and, through the rising steam, observed the friend he hadn't seen in a long time.
Compared to her last birthday party, Kūkaku now had two dark eye bags, clearly, she had been staying up late a lot recently.
However, on her right wrist, she still wore the red bracelet named "Sky Crane" that he had given her for her birthday.
"So... that 'powerful shinigami' the old captain mentioned – that was you?"
"Who else?" Kūkaku rolled her eyes, grabbed a cup, and downed it in one gulp. "Uncle Isshin said I grew up in Rukongai and that few people in the noble circles would recognize this face."
Suddenly she leaned in close, her breath smelling faintly of gunpowder brushing Arata's face. "But you, bastard, as soon as you put on that mask, you're perfectly able to act like a bloodhound of the Tsunayashiro family, huh?"
Arata smiled wryly, displaying the Hollow Mask in his palm. He deliberately ignored the words "bloodhound." "Just a few small props, not worth mentioning. But, Sister Kūkaku, the power of those bombs nearly scared me."
"Those? That's the gunpowder I've been developing recently. I haven't slept properly in weeks because of it." Kūkaku proudly pulled out three more metal spheres from her sash, identical to the ones she had thrown at Arata earlier.
Arata took one of the spheres from Kūkaku's hand and examined it carefully. The tips of his fingers could feel the subtle patterns etched into the metal surface.
Those patterns weren't decorative but meticulously designed channels for spiritual particles, converting the user's spiritual pressure into explosive energy.
"Sister Kūkaku, your invention…" Arata sighed and gently placed the sphere on the table. "If it could be mass-produced, even the Department of Technological Development would be jealous."
"Of course!" Kūkaku proudly puffed out her chest, then slumped her shoulders in frustration. "Too bad the materials are so hard to find. Just these three cost me half my yearly savings."
Suddenly, she lowered her voice and pulled a long object wrapped in black cloth from her bosom. "Compared to that, look what I found in the Kasumiōji estate."
As soon as the black cloth was removed, Arata's pupils abruptly shrank.
It was a completely black short dagger, with dark red petal-like patterns on the blade and a red eyeball-like orb constantly rotating in the hilt.
It seemed as if that eye, sensing the gazes from outside, blinked strangely at Arata.
Arata suddenly leapt up, moving the table in the process. "Kūkaku, where did you find this?"
"In a secret underground chamber of the Kasumiōji estate." Kūkaku covered the dagger again with the black cloth and shook her hand in disgust. "At first, I was trying to check their account books but accidentally stumbled into a weapons storage room. Unfortunately, the alarm went off the moment I grabbed this thing."
Arata hesitated no longer and told Kūkaku everything he had seen and heard in the Kurokawa residence, including the Rukongai inhabitants used as "fuel" and the evidence of the Tsunayashiro family's involvement recorded in the account book.
The more Kūkaku listened, the darker her expression became, and her fists clenched with the sound of bones cracking.
"Those bastards!" She slammed her fist on the table, making the teacup bounce. "No wonder so many mummies have been showing up in the lower districts of Rukongai lately. Turns out they're all..."
Arata gently held her shoulders, feeling the tension in her muscles through the fabric. "Kūkaku, calm down. We're only carrying out an infiltration mission for now. How this will be handled, we have to leave that to the Captain-Commander."
Kūkaku took several deep breaths, then suddenly revealed a sly smile.
"Actually, I already have an idea – if they want a swordsmanship tournament so badly, let's give them a real one."
She pulled out a crumpled blueprint from her bosom, depicting a complex mechanical structure. "This is a spiritual bomb I designed. If we hide it at the tournament venue..."
"Too dangerous." Arata interrupted her and shook his head. "Not to mention whether the bomb will even destroy the Bakkōtō, the mere possibility of accidentally harming the audience is..."
"Idiot, who said we'd blow up the stands?" Kūkaku looked at him like he was an idiot. "I meant we'd put the bombs in the prizes! According to the schedule Uncle Isshin mentioned, Kasumiōji Kumoi will personally present the prizes after the finals."
Arata's eyes lit up. As the nominal highest vassal of the Kasumiōji family, that old man was indeed the best opportunity for a breakthrough. If they could use the awards ceremony to publicly expose the Bakkōtō conspiracy...
"However, the inspection of the trophies on-site will surely be strict." He voiced his concern.
Kūkaku proudly waggled her finger and looked at the Void Mask in Arata's hand. "That's why we need your magical mask. You just tag along as a staff member and sneak in, right?"
While the two of them were discussing, a soft noise suddenly came from outside.
In the darkness, someone's light steps on the roof tiles and suppressed voices could be heard.
"Are you sure it's here?"
"Yes, the spiritual pressure trail finally disappeared right around this place..."
"Shhh—" Arata's fingers gently pressed against Kūkaku's lips, and both held their breath in the darkness.
The footsteps outside the window grew closer, and the moonlight filtering through the paper shōji outlined several blurry silhouettes.
Kūkaku's breath lightly brushed against Arata's palm, carrying the warm scent of gunpowder. She blinked and looked at him, her eyes asking, what now?
Arata raised three fingers and silently counted down: three, two, one...
"Bakudō #26: Kyokkō!"
A pale blue spiritual barrier instantly spread out and enveloped the entire lounge, concealing all spiritual pressure fluctuations.
At the same time, Arata wrapped his arm around Kūkaku's waist and pulled her onto the narrow single bed in the lounge.
The wind caused by the sudden lift of the blanket extinguished the last oil lamp, and the two bodies clung tightly to each other in the darkness.
"You..." Kūkaku wanted to say something, but Arata covered her mouth again.
His hand was large and warm, with calluses under his fingers.
Only then did she become aware of how ambiguous their position was, he was half-leaning over her, one leg wedged between hers, and the collar of his training kimono had come undone in the scuffle, revealing a clearly defined collarbone.
Outside, the sounds of the pursuit grew nearer.
"Strange, the spiritual pressure reaction ends right here."
"Keep searching! Lord Kumoi said that female thief stole the most important test product from this batch. We must retrieve it!"
"Damn it, the one dagger codenamed 'Demon Flower' was stolen!"
Chaotic footsteps could be heard under the door, refusing to fade.
Kūkaku's entire body was tense. She could clearly feel Arata's heartbeat against her chest — strong and rhythmic.
The man's breath brushed past her ear, carrying a faint scent of tea.
"Relax."
Arata whispered, gently patting her back with his palm, trying to soothe her.
It was unclear how much time had passed, but the noise outside gradually diminished, and the footsteps finally faded away. Still, Arata didn't get up immediately.
"Did they… leave?" Kūkaku asked softly, her voice trembling slightly from nervousness.
"Wait a bit longer." Arata lowered his voice even further, almost whispering, his warm breath brushing the tip of her ear. "They might have set up surveillance Kidō nearby."
Kūkaku's eyelashes fluttered slightly, and she could clearly feel Arata's chest rising and falling.
They were so close she could count the tiniest drops of sweat on his collarbone.
She shifted her legs uncomfortably and inadvertently brushed against something hard was that the Zanpakutō Arata always carried with him…?