Muten Natsu's left hand slid along the blade. The edge sliced open his palm, crimson blood spreading across the steel before gradually turning pitch-black.
The plain black katana changed soundlessly. The pommel became a ringed hilt, the tip widened into a sharp point, its curve lifting upward like a fish's head.
The blade itself broadened noticeably. Two blood grooves emerged along its surface, one deep and one shallow. The thin groove near the spine ran parallel to it, ending at the raised portion near the tip. The thicker groove closer to the edge followed the blade's outer contour, rising and falling with it all the way to the point.
The rattling chains were blocked by the pillar of light left behind by the Bakudō. The spinning Kama at the end suddenly shrank its arc. Its already bizarre trajectory grew even stranger as it closed in on Muten Natsu with visibly increased force.
Drip—drip————
Viscous liquid slid down the blade and fell from the tip, striking the ground and sending out ripples.
It was as if the surface beneath Muten Natsu's feet wasn't stone at all, but a sheet of pitch-black water.
Shūhei Hisagi's eyes widened. A dense darkness surfaced within them, expanding rapidly until it swallowed his entire field of vision.
Thud!
An overwhelming force tore through Kazeshini and struck Shūhei Hisagi head-on, smashing his body hard against the sewer wall.
Black ink spread from his cheek down to his abdomen. Torn flesh gushed blood as the inky fluid seeped into the wounds, corroding the exposed tissue and releasing thin trails of black smoke.
Zanpakutō — Bokukō
Classification: Kidō-type
Shikai: Upon release, corrosive spirit ink overflows from the blood grooves. With each swing, it can detach from the blade to launch ranged attacks.
"Senpai, take a look." Muten Natsu held Bokukō horizontally before him. Thick black ink seeped from the grooves and dripped slowly. "Doesn't Bokukō look like one of those reckless brats who scribble all over walls without thinking about the consequences?"
Enduring the agony, Shūhei Hisagi swung Kazeshini. The chains clattered as they wrapped around Muten Natsu's body.
"A Zanpakutō is a mirror of a Shinigami's soul. Seems my judgment of you was right."
"Then do you know the condition for releasing Bokukō?" Muten Natsu vanished without warning and reappeared directly in front of him. He raised his left hand, showing the wound in his palm. "If my blood doesn't touch Bokukō, it won't release."
Shadow Stealth: Spirit Ink resonates with darkness, granting Muten Natsu the ability to move through shadows.
Shūhei Hisagi's gaze flickered.
"You heard a child crying, but never cared why he was crying." Muten Natsu let out a faint laugh. "You cling to The Path of Justice and assume everyone should abide by your justice, no matter what they've been through."
Shūhei Hisagi twisted his body, pulling back to create distance as he yanked on the chains.
"Are you trying to deny my justice?!"
"What I deny…" Muten Natsu's figure flickered and appeared behind him, "…is you using your justice to measure mine. Do you remember what you did?"
Shūhei Hisagi released his grip and pointed behind him.
"Hadō #4 — Byakurai!"
White lightning burst from his fingertip, but the spreading ink absorbed and dispersed it.
Myōki cut through the ink, compressing and gathering the violent Reiatsu—
Then releasing it.
Blood shot into the air!
Shūhei Hisagi's body pitched backward. His unfocused eyes stared at the twin katana in Muten Natsu's hands.
Ah…
He remembered.
That childlike Bokukō had been confiscated and sealed by him when Muten Natsu was imprisoned.
His gaze settled on the terrifying shape of Myōki.
So that was why… a blade that looked built for nothing but killing in a single stroke had appeared.
If, back then, he hadn't rigidly clung to The Path of Justice and branded Muten Natsu's actions as unjust—if he had tried to understand the justice in Muten Natsu's heart instead…
Would Myōki's form, and Muten Natsu's choices, have turned out differently?
His vision grew hazy. His consciousness began to fade.
He didn't have the strength left to think.
Fortunately, the answer wasn't hard to imagine.
Thud!
Shūhei Hisagi collapsed to the ground. The vicious Kazeshini reverted to its original form.
"Muten," Orihime Inoue approached cautiously once she was sure the battle was over. "It sounds like a lot of people are coming."
"Before we leave." Muten Natsu put away his Zanpakutō. "Orihime, could you treat him? Don't heal him completely. Just make sure he won't die."
"Okay!" Orihime Inoue placed her hands on Shun Shun Rikka. "Shunō, Ayame, Sōten Kisshun — I reject!"
A golden barrier formed, partially mending the horrific wounds on Shūhei Hisagi's body.
Rapid footsteps echoed clearly through the underground sewer. Muten Natsu quickly left with Orihime Inoue.
Ririn lay against Orihime Inoue's shoulder.
"I thought you were going to kill him."
Muten Natsu shook his head.
"A corpse won't help Captain Unohana rack up more merit for treating wounded squad members."
Retsu Unohana was the captain of the 4th Division, the medical division responsible for emergency treatment, medical care, and the routine cleaning and maintenance of Seireitei.
Years ago, Retsu Unohana personally struck down Muten Natsu. Now that Muten Natsu had reappeared, she would inevitably face trouble for that failure.
But everything has its order of urgency.
When there are wounded who need rescue, no matter how serious Unohana's past dereliction may have been, no one can pursue it now.
The more injured there are, the busier Retsu Unohana becomes. The busier she is, the fewer people have the time to trouble her. The fewer problems she faces, the more time she has to save others. The more people she heals, the fewer injured remain.
So the more injured there are, the fewer injured there will be.
Ririn had been puzzled. Muten Natsu used to end fights in a single blow. Yet this time, he had actually let Orihime Inoue step in to heal.
"So it was for Captain Unohana."
Muten Natsu shook his head.
"Not entirely."
"Hm?"
"We're here to save people," Muten Natsu said quietly.
Back then, everything he did had been out of necessity. Now, he finally had a bit of room to maneuver.
While ensuring Rukia Kuchiki's safety, he also wanted to try something different. He wanted to face Soul Society the way Orihime Inoue faced the World of the Living, with a different attitude, a different method.
He had already tried killing.
The results had been minimal.
Now that he had returned to Soul Society with some leeway, it was only natural to try another way.
Orihime Inoue looked at his profile, a faint smile forming on her lips.
He had been listening to everything she said.
Ririn looked at Muten Natsu, then at Orihime Inoue, and felt as if she were carrying the weight of the world.
The two of them were equally awkward. Orihime Inoue wouldn't ask. Muten Natsu wouldn't explain.
Good thing she was just a doll. If she had a human body and had to deal with this kind of complicated emotional mess, she would be exhausted just thinking about it.
Ririn shook her head, pushing away the dreadful thought.
As she did, her gaze shifted—and she noticed that Bokukō at Muten Natsu's waist was still dripping Spirit Ink.
"Your blade…"
"Don't worry," Muten Natsu replied. "This is… preparation for Bankai."