No Cheat in Bleach ? Watch me help Aizen then.-Chapter 125: Just a Test, That’s All

"I knew it was you, Shuuichi!"

The sky split as a figure plummeted—white haori marked with the number "11" flaring behind him like a war banner.

Zaraki Kenpachi, Captain of Squad Eleven, came crashing down, his blade a meteor, roaring for blood.

CLANG!

Higashi Shuuichi met the strike head-on, the sheer force sending white sand exploding around them like petals in bloom.

He's gotten stronger again...

Shuuichi skidded back several dozen steps, blade trembling from the pressure. That last escape—when he'd fled Seireitei and clashed with Byakuya, Ukitake, and the others—had inadvertently helped Zaraki tear through his self-imposed limits.

Without even realizing it, Shuuichi had become the perfect whetstone. Now, Zaraki didn't hold back. Now, Zaraki only lived for one thing:

To die in battle against Shuuichi.

"Hadō #67—Raimei San!"

Shuuichi didn't hesitate. Sparks of lightning flashed and spread into a thick, obfuscating fog.

There might have been fewer captains now than during his last flight from Soul Society...

...but the quality was terrifying.

Unohana. Kyōraku. At full strength, either one could kill him outright.

Retreat was the only option.

But just as he prepared to Shunpo away—

SHRRRRRIP!

The black coffin he'd used to contain Dolodoni tore open. A savage wind burst out.

"Spin, Baron of Storms! Cyclone Requiem!"

From its center, Dolodoni erupted, tornadoes spiraling outward. Wind blades howled, slashing through the storm.

Should've killed him...

Shuuichi grimaced. His Raimei San was shredded effortlessly.

But truth be told, even if he'd wanted to kill Dolodoni, he wouldn't have had time—not while dealing with Kenpachi and now Kyōraku Shunsui, who had cut off his escape.

"East! Shuuichi!" Dolodoni bellowed, wild-eyed—then flinched when he noticed the crowd of captains around them.

How the hell did it get this crowded?!

"You see how things are," Shuuichi growled. "We work together, or neither of us gets out."

Dolodoni, to his credit, made the smart call.

"That silver-haired Shinigami's mine!"

Without another word, he lunged toward Ichimaru Gin, who'd just landed.

Cero, whirlwind, sparks—every move vicious, yet... not a single one aimed to kill.

Gin, ever the snake, didn't bother using Bankai. He played along, lazily poking with his Shikai like a bored cat.

They fought like two actors putting on a bloody show.

"Are you two flirting or fighting?" Shuuichi muttered bitterly. He wanted to bury his blade in Dolodoni's back for this farce.

But no such chance—Kenpachi and Kyōraku were all over him.

Kenpachi's attacks came like a storm, wild and unrelenting—but every slash struck exactly where it hurt to block. His brute strength, twisted muscles, insane grip and reflexes... this wasn't swordsmanship. This was warfare, pure and raw.

Kenpachi had learned. He'd adapted.

Their last battle had tuned him into Shuuichi's rhythm. Now, he was exploiting every flaw.

Worse still, Kyōraku stood at a distance, tossing in perfectly-timed Kidō strikes—never too much, just enough to tilt the fight.

"Unohana-san," Kyōraku called as he landed beside her, "you seem quite entertained. Why stop?"

Unohana, rebraiding her hair, replied without looking at him. "I'm not like you. I don't interfere in other people's battles."

"Even if that man is the enemy?"

Kyōraku tilted his head toward Shuuichi.

Unohana glanced at the battle, hands still busy. "Shunsui, I've never cared about enemies. You know that better than anyone."

"Haha. True enough," Kyōraku chuckled. "Well then... you won't mind if I kill your toy, right?"

"If you can, be my guest."

Down below, unaware of their conversation, Shuuichi was calculating escape routes.

Double Bankai, to break range. Then drop it, kick into Hollowfication, and use Sonído to flee toward Las Noches.

If he could just make it that far, he'd shake off pursuit.

And better to deal with Hollows than Kyōraku.

The plan formed. He was about to move—

"Shuuichi-kun," Kyōraku's voice echoed from above, "Game start~!"

Shuuichi looked up.

Kyōraku's Zanpakutō—Katen Kyōkotsu—was already released.

Didn't even sense it...

He'd been too focused on survival to notice.

Off to the side, Zaraki was now isolated—just outside Kyōraku's Reiatsu field.

The spacing was perfect.

That distance... it's no accident.

Because Kyōraku's Zanpakutō didn't cut—it played games. And once the rules were set, they applied to everyone inside the zone.

Winner takes all. Loser dies.

But would Kyōraku really try to kill him?

Shuuichi didn't think so.

Kyōraku was many things, but he wasn't Yamamoto.

And Shuuichi was aligned—at least publicly—with Urahara Kisuke and Shihōin Yoruichi. Kyōraku wouldn't make a move like this without cause.

He wants to see what I can do.

He wants to test it...

"Shuuichi-kun~ The game is called 'Rising Demon.' The rules are simple. The higher you stand, the stronger your attacks."

Kyōraku floated overhead, smiling down.

He swung.

The slash looked weak. Weaker than anything Zaraki had thrown.

But Shuuichi knew better.

Kyōraku's Zanpakutō didn't fight with force—it fought with laws. And this law said:

Height is power.

Shuuichi leapt backward to dodge.

But Kyōraku whispered, "Lonely Spin."

A spinning vortex landed on Shuuichi's body, freezing him in place.

SLASH.

Blood sprayed. The cut ripped through him.

And then... Shuuichi regenerated.

"You're stronger than me and you're playing like this? What a pain..."

But Kyōraku wasn't fooled.

"Oh come on, Shuuichi-kun, we both know you're holding back. Don't try that tired act with me~"

Shuuichi smiled bitterly, beginning to chant.

Kyōraku's eyes narrowed.

Even as his Bankai strikes were deflected by Shuuichi's reflected Laughing Blade attacks, Kyōraku knew...

It wouldn't matter.

"Under my Zanpakutō's power, your spells are weakened. You won't break through."

But Shuuichi wasn't listening.

He finished the chant.

"...And vanish in radiant silence!"

He raised a hand. "Hadō #91—Senju Kōten Taihō!"

Light swirled.

And yet... no spell emerged.

Failed?

No.

Kyōraku frowned.

He knew a failed Kidō when he saw one.

This... wasn't that.

Then, a massive pressure slammed into the battlefield.

From the other side—between Gin and Dolodoni—the real attack launched.

Multiple beams of light streaked past, straight for Kyōraku.

"Oh? So that's how you did the Hundred Demon Parade..."

Dankū!

The transparent Kidō wall shimmered in front of him.

But it was weak.

Shuuichi's spell, fully chanted, overwhelmed it.

The beams tore through—Kyōraku barely evading with Shunpo as explosions consumed the air.

"Clever..." he muttered amid the smoke. "Very clever..."

And then—above him.

Shuuichi hovered.

"I'm higher now."

Fuzan.

No hesitation.

From above, Shuuichi unleashed all his Reiatsu into the blade and brought it down.

It tore the sky.

It split sound itself.

But Kyōraku's voice came from behind.

"Oh my~ That was close! You've mastered the old man's technique quite well."

Behind me?

No.

He never moved.

Shadow Trick. A technique Shuuichi had heard of. Kyōraku's image—projected through the enemy's focus—tricks the senses into seeing him where he isn't.

Shuuichi cursed inwardly.

And then—

"Well, if that game's over, let's play another!"

Kyōraku was all smiles.

"Next game: Shadow Demon. If your shadow gets stepped on—"

"Enough," Shuuichi interrupted. "I get it. You want to see what else I can do. No need to waste time."

Kyōraku's eyes narrowed.

So sharp...

Shuuichi continued. "My Hollow powers? Mastered. No need to show you. But the other one—you want to assess the danger level, right?"

Kyōraku didn't answer.

He didn't need to.

The moment Shuuichi had arrived alone, he'd made the call. The Head-Captain had warned him: That power is dangerous.

Not because Shuuichi couldn't be trusted—but because the power itself might twist him.

Shuuichi drew his second Zanpakutō—Yomi Basara, gifted by Satoya Tomasae.

It, like his original blade, connected to Hell.

But this one... didn't require a double Bankai.

"Kidō—Hell Art: Execution Aria."

A storm of ash and grey fire began to form.

Everyone felt it.

Unohana, Zaraki, Gin, even Dolodoni—they all stepped back, eyes wide.

A skeletal hand reached from the grey fog.

It wasn't cutting Reiatsu.

It was devouring souls.

Spiritual laws meant nothing before the pull of Hell.

But—before even a second passed—

Shuuichi dismissed it.

Gone.

The storm vanished.

Why?

Because this time... he heard it.

The screams of Satoya Tomasae, echoing from Hell.

And he remembered.

Every time he used Hell's power, he was burning the soul of the damned—draining it until they were erased from Hell and returned to Soul Society.

Which sounded fine.

Until he remembered—

His own power, his most potent double Bankai, was bound to Satoya.

If Satoya vanished... so did his strongest weapon.

Not until he was ready to return to Hell would he burn that soul again.

"Well?" he asked.

"Impressive..." Kyōraku nodded slowly.

He was satisfied.

Shuuichi could wield Hell's power without succumbing to it.

And maybe, just maybe, Urahara was right.

But deep in his heart... another name surfaced.

Kamiyashiro Tokitane.

You're behind all of this, aren't you?

All those captains, all those lieutenants exiled from Soul Society...

What exactly are you trying to do?