The blade Shin swung stopped abruptly, mere centimeters from Gin's chest, suspended in midair by a visible surge of compressed blue reiryoku that filled the space between them. Shin felt as if he were sinking into a mire—an immense, overwhelming force pushing him back with raw pressure alone.
This was what a full release of Third-Level Spiritual Pressure felt like. The shockwave alone carried Captain-class might.
The crowd fell into a hush, their faces paling beneath the weight of that pressure. They all felt it: the suffocating density of a Captain's reiatsu.
Gin's Shihakushō flared wildly in the storm of spiritual energy, Shinsō—now in his grip—buzzed with tension. His eyes locked with Shin's.
Then he spoke, voice soft but clear.
"Bankai."
Shin's pupils contracted. He didn't even have time to react—before the thought could finish forming in his mind, a force like a freight train slammed into his chest.
BOOM!
The air ruptured as Shinsō struck, launching Shin backward like a bullet. His body crashed into a sekiseki pillar, the shockwave reverberating through the entire arena.
Gin exhaled, his collar fluttering, his zanpakutō humming from the force it had just unleashed.
No one had seen it clearly. One moment Gin stood still. The next, a white flash—and Shin had been sent flying into a pillar dozens of meters away. Between them stretched a blindingly long, thin white blade: Kamishini no Yari, God-Slaying Spear.
The crowd gasped. Kōtetsu Isane stood up in panic. Only when Shin stirred against the pillar did she breathe again.
That speed—faster than before. Was that… his Bankai?
Even the Captains present grew visibly tense. If they'd been in Shin's place, they wouldn't have dodged it either. Maybe no one could.
"Hadō #4: Byakurai!"
A white bolt of lightning shot from atop the sekiseki pillar. Gin dodged, his Bankai retracting instantly back into short form. Shin landed lightly on the ground.
That blow had been too fast—and the force behind it, monstrous. Without Higan's ability, he would've been skewered instantly.
Gin's expression flickered as he stared at Shin—still unharmed.
If Shinsō in Shikai couldn't pierce Shin, maybe the blade simply wasn't sharp enough.
But Kamishini no Yari in Bankai moved at over a hundred times the speed of sound—its power came not just from velocity, but the kinetic impact such speed delivered.
And yet… it still didn't hurt him.
"A truly formidable Bankai," Shin acknowledged, "I imagine most who face it wouldn't survive the first strike."
Gin's face darkened. "Yet here you are. Alive. That's more frightening than the strike itself."
The crowd agreed in silence. Gin's power had been staggering—but Shin's complete lack of injury was what truly unsettled them.
Shin raised his blade.
"This is the full extent of your power, isn't it, Vice-Captain Ichimaru?"
"…"
Shunpo.
Shin vanished. Gin's eyes snapped to the left, locking onto his location.
Kamishini no Yari.
A white flash cut the sky—its length seemingly infinite.
But Shin was ready. His blade deflected the blow, barely redirecting the trajectory. Screeching sparks exploded around him from the clash, both blades vibrating with unnatural force.
A normal asauchi would've shattered under the blow.
But Shin's asauchi held a fragment of the Soul King's Right Hand—making it indestructible.
Gin withdrew his blade instantly. But before he could strike again—
Shin's reiryoku surged.
"Hadō #88—"
Gin's expression shifted—genuine disbelief entered his eyes.
Blue-white reiryoku spun into a vortex, spiraling forward. Shin extended one hand, palm open.
A blinding column of light exploded from his fingertips.
"Hiryū Gekizoku Shinten Raihō!"
A thunderclap split the air. The enormous energy cannon tore through the sky, shrieking as it devoured everything in its path.
Gin's instincts screamed—no way he could tank that.
He had to escape—
He slammed a hand forward.
"Bakudō #81: Dankū!"
The translucent barrier of Dankū shimmered into existence—but rushed, unstable. Even if it was meant to block any Hadō under 89, this casting had no time to stabilize.
The energy cannon hit.
BOOM!
The arena lit up with white and blue. Reiryoku shockwaves exploded in every direction, knocking weaker Shinigami off their feet. Even with containment seals, the backlash rocked the stadium.
Dankū shattered.
The blast engulfed the back half of the stage. Luckily, a sekiseki pillar absorbed the excess energy before it could reach the crowd.
But Gin—he was gone.
Shin's gaze lifted.
There.
High above, Gin hovered—he'd launched himself upward with Kamishini no Yari to evade the blast.
The Soul Society lacked the physics of the Living World. There was no air to stand on—but Shinigami could use reiryoku propulsion in bursts.
Floating with no footing, Gin pointed his blade downward.
SHWIP—!
A blinding strike shot toward Shin's forehead.
He didn't move.
The blade struck him dead between the eyes—and did nothing.
It bounced.
Gin recoiled.
He tried again.
Kamishini no Yari struck—but Shin sidestepped slightly, letting the blade scream past his ear.
Then—
He reached out.
And caught it.
Gin froze. He caught it?!
With his bare hand, Shin grabbed the extended blade. Reiryoku poured into the steel. Gin tried to retract it—and failed.
What…?
Shin raised his blade and slashed upward in a wide crescent.
A ten-meter-wide wave of cutting wind surged forward.
Gin had no time to dodge. Unless he dropped his blade—he couldn't move.
He froze.
"Gin!"
Someone screamed from the sidelines.
But he was too late.
WHUMP.
The blast didn't carve him open—it transformed into a violent storm of wind, slamming into Gin's face, blinding him, knocking him back.
The wind swept over the stands, ruffling haori and tossing loose hair into the air. Even the reiatsu dampeners failed to stop it.
Yamamoto's face didn't shift, eyes squinting through the whirlwind.
Gin closed his eyes—then screamed.
Pain erupted in both arms.
Clatter.
Kamishini no Yari reverted, falling to the floor.
His arms went limp.
Both of his tendons—cut.
In his daze, he saw Shin—already walking away, blade sheathed.
It was over.
Gin stood there, stunned. Then he remembered what Shin had asked him before the battle.
"Have you ever lost?"
No.
Not once since entering Shin'ō Academy. He'd been called a genius. That genius was noticed by that man.
Even among prodigies, he stood out.
He had never been defeated.
Until now.
By a man who had only been a Shinigami for less than a year.
Gin's gaze fixed on Shin's back.
This man… maybe he could…
"Thank you for the match, Vice-Captain Ichimaru."
Shin turned back, his voice calm.
"…"
Gin took a deep breath.
"I lost."
The arena was silent.
No one spoke.
Not because of reverence—but because they were still processing what they had just seen.
Captain-class battle.
A real one.
Bankai.
Hadō #88.
Blades that could cut sekiseki stone.
For many seated officers, this was something they might only see once in a century.
Kōtetsu Isane finally stepped forward, quickly checking Gin's injuries, then called for medics to take him away.
"Winner of this match: Tachikawa Shin."
Thunderous noise followed.
But the Captain's row was silent.
Except one.
Hokami Riiku of the Third Division—his eyes shone.
"What a battle…"
Finally, Ukitake broke the silence with a chuckle.
"Both of them are beyond Vice-Captain level now."
Kyōraku agreed. "Gin already has Bankai. That alone makes him a Captain-level force. But Shin… he displayed Third-Level Spiritual Pressure, elite kido, and swordsmanship that can threaten Captains."
Komamura nodded. "It's an honor to have such youth within the Gotei 13."
Aizen sighed. "I had hoped our Fifth Division might win the tournament, but…"
His gentle smile lightened the mood. After all, Gin was his subordinate, and yet he didn't seem to mind the loss.
Behind them, people stirred.
"…Rangiku, where are you going?"
Ise Nanao whispered—but Matsumoto had already risen and slipped away, eyes unreadable.
Hitsugaya watched her go, puzzled. She hadn't said anything. Neither did their Captain.
So Hitsugaya turned his gaze back to Shin.
And sighed.
He had thought he was catching up. That soon he might stand at the same height.
But now…
He realized just how far apart they still were.
But one day—he'd surpass him.
No—he'd surpass everyone.
"Captain Unohana," Shiba Isshin said with a grin. "This Tachikawa doesn't act like a member of the Fourth Division."
"Oh? What do you mean, Captain Shiba?" she replied sweetly.
"Well… his zanpakutō might be Kaidō-based, but with strength like that, he's way past the scope of a medical Shinigami. Maybe Shin'ō should revise how they evaluate students…"
Unohana smiled. "Isn't that exactly what the Fourth Division is doing now? With Shin's help, we're changing. Soon, the world's perception of 'medical Shinigami' will change too."
She paused, then added softly—
"Are you perhaps regretful that he didn't join the Tenth?"
Isshin laughed but said nothing.
And many nearby fell silent again.
Because no one—not even Shin himself—believed he could remain just a seated officer for long.