The day Higashi Shuuichi left Hell—just before his departure—he turned and looked at Kuryashiki Kenpachi.
"Captain Kuryashiki... If one day I need your power—will you lend it to me?"
Kuryashiki burst into laughter.
"Hahaha! What are you saying? With your current strength, unless you're dumb enough to charge into Hueco Mundo solo like I did, what danger could you possibly face?"
"And if… by chance?"
"Then call me. If I have it—and you need it—my power's yours."
Kuryashiki Kenpachi had seen the worry buried deep in Shuuichi's gaze.
He didn't fully understand why this Death God, who had earned his esteem—one he believed could truly inherit his will—carried such heavy unease about the future. But he wouldn't pry.
Trust wasn't about conditions. If you trust someone, you support them. No matter what.
Just like when his old friend Ashido charged into the Forest of Menos alone—he hadn't understood, but he believed. And waited.
So when Higashi Shuuichi handed him Yomi Basara, Kuryashiki understood immediately.
He stabbed the Zanpakutō into his own stomach.
Different from the rune carved into Ikeda Kōsuke, a new sigil slowly surfaced on his flesh—before vanishing beneath his skin.
Shuuichi said nothing, but the silence carried weight.
Kuryashiki knew what that rune could do. He knew its danger. Knew it could siphon a soul's reiryoku to death.
And he still did it.
Trust.
True, absolute trust.
Shuuichi thought of the girl in the dungeons of the Tōma estate—Tōma Sayako—who had trusted him the same way.
He took back Yomi Basara with solemn reverence, and bowed to Kuryashiki.
"I won't fail you, Captain."
Back to the present—at the moment Yomi Basara activated.
It was Shuuichi's first time calling on its true power.
His soul was transported to a space of infinite white, empty and silent. At the very center stood a lone figure with their back turned, clad in an unfamiliar captain's haori that dragged along the floor.
On the back—Eleven.
There was no mistaking it.
"Come to borrow my strength, Shuuichi?"
The figure turned, grinning.
Kuryashiki Kenpachi. Or rather, the echo of him—locked in the moment he carved the rune.
"Yes, Captain. Lend me your strength!"
Shuuichi bowed low.
He knew this wasn't truly Kuryashiki—not the one in Hell, not the man himself. Just a copy. A spiritual imprint.
But he bowed anyway.
Out of respect. Out of gratitude. Out of everything that couldn't be expressed in words.
Aizen had never deserved such respect.
But Kuryashiki…
He was the first. Perhaps the only one.
"Hah! If you insist—just don't screw it up. My power's not so easy to handle."
With a laugh, Kuryashiki strode forward—until their forms overlapped.
In Soul Society—
Kenpachi's spiritual pressure exploded outward. Shuuichi's body, melted to near oblivion by Gin's poison, reformed in an instant thanks to the Hōgyoku fragment.
And in his hand, Yomi Basara resumed its original chisel-like shape—but overlaid with the phantom outline of another Zanpakutō.
Gin saw it too.
Not just the blade—but figures, flickering around Shuuichi like ghostly afterimages.
"I've never heard of a Shinigami wielding two Shikai…"
Gin narrowed his eyes.
This wasn't Shuuichi's Zanpakutō.
It shouldn't be possible.
"You've got a lot to learn about the world, Gin~"
Shuuichi raised the blade.
He hadn't wanted to use Yomi Basara. Its power came at a cost: lifespan.
And while a Shinigami's life was long, it wasn't infinite.
Still… faced with Gin's Bankai and the accelerated tempo of battle, he had no choice. He had to end it before the Hollowfication progressed too far.
"Mu-Tō!"
Kamishini no Yari blurred into motion again.
But this time, it failed.
A single blade arced upward.
Fenzukiri.
The lance of death halted mid-air, blocked clean.
Gin had expected it.
Shuuichi's spiritual pressure now dwarfed his own. They were no longer fighting the same man as before.
"Bakudō—Senban!"
Bands of white reiryoku, like spiritual bindings, coiled around Gin.
Shuuichi narrowed his eyes.
That Kido... It was a theoretical construct Aizen once proposed. Too complex. Too unnecessary. He had never followed through.
And Shuuichi? He didn't have the creative finesse.
Yet somehow, in just five years, Gin had made it real.
From behind—a killing intent.
Shuuichi reacted instantly. Left foot slipped, right foot curved back.
Fūzan.
The gray threads of connection—Gin's poisonous path—were slashed apart by Shuuichi's blade.
But the true Gin was already gone.
"A feint… Just as you taught me, Shuuichi-sama."
Gin's voice came from behind.
A blur.
Mu-Tō.
A hole burst open in Shuuichi's right shoulder.
Worse still, that insidious poison again—the gray dust that dissolved the soul.
"Stop resisting," Gin whispered, descending from above.
"Shoot to kill—Kamishini no Yari!"
With the aid of Senban, Gin reappeared directly overhead.
By all logic, beneath him now should've been nothing but Shuuichi's severed head.
But what greeted his eyes—
A whole, living body.
Only the right shoulder damaged.
"Impossible!"
Once again, Gin found himself stunned by what he saw.
This entire fight had defied everything he understood.
Shuuichi looked up at him calmly.
He'd known.
He'd planned for this.
"Koroshi no Kichō ni Umare, Yami to Rōrei ni Uyamare—Garaku Kairō!"
The Corridor of Ravenous Joy.
The Shikai ability of Kuryashiki Kenpachi's Zanpakutō.
And now—the power of Yomi Basara.
Different from the artifact of the Ganryūdai, Enra Kyōten, which allowed the wielder to copy other Zanpakutō at the cost of lifespan—Yomi Basara allowed Shuuichi to summon the spirit of any contracted heroic soul.
Its reiryoku, its Zanpakutō ability, its very essence—all became his.
But it came at a cost.
The stronger the spirit… the faster Shuuichi burned.
Were he to summon someone like Yamamoto, even for a few minutes, it might cost him his entire life.
Now—dozens of grotesque, white orbs with gaping maws floated in the air. One orb hovered at Shuuichi's shoulder, happily munching on the poisoned flesh.
The venom that had melted Shuuichi before?
Ineffective.
Fūzan!
In that one moment of Gin's shock, Shuuichi struck.
The blade tore through the air like a divine judgment.
Blood sprayed across his face.
Above, the clouds split—and golden light trickled through the heavens.
He tasted iron. Felt the warmth on his cheek.
Turned his head.
And saw Gin—
One hand clutching his chest, blood spilling between his fingers.
"That was… too close…"
Gin staggered back, stunned.
He didn't understand.
Shuuichi's Zanpakutō was sealed.
His own poison had been working.
What the hell was Yomi Basara?
What was that ability—Garaku Kairō?
And those things floating near Shuuichi—those white, man-eating orbs… what even were they?
That release chant he'd never heard before.
Everything—everything about this—
Felt utterly, terrifyingly unfamiliar.
"What the hell… happened to Higashi Shuuichi in those missing five years?!"