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Amid the ruins of a street now beyond recognition, Kusajishi Yachiru gazed upward in awe at Higashi Shuuichi, whose presence had changed entirely.
In the distance, Kuchiki Ginrei stood midair, his Zanpakutō already released—shaped like a ceremonial staff with a dangling tassel. A gentle breeze extended from its tip, curling around Shuuichi, wrapping him softly like a silken shroud.
That breeze crept insidiously, warping Shuuichi's awareness—gradually disarming his alertn ...
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