Saitō Hisaya's swift defeat caught everyone off guard. Except for a few Captains and Vice-Captains, the majority hadn't even seen how Tachikawa Shin had made his move.
Reactions to Shin's display of power varied widely.
Some found it unsurprising — such as Unohana Retsu. She had witnessed Shin fight firsthand before. She might not yet know his upper limits, but for someone like him to dispatch the Sixth Division's 3rd Seat in one move? Not shocking at all.
But only she thought that.
"I think I finally understand what this kid's foundation is," Kyōraku Shunsui muttered to Ukitake beside him. "Neither of us saw through him before."
Ukitake remained silent.
"This brat… he's got some bite."
That was Zaraki Kenpachi, Captain of the Eleventh Division, suddenly grinning.
He'd already heard of Shin from Ikkaku. Ever since Ikkaku's first loss to him, Zaraki had wanted a bout of his own — even told Ikkaku to recruit him into the Eleventh. Shin refused.
After two days of only watching others fight, and now a challenger with potential finally appearing — yet still no chance to get on the field — Zaraki itched like mad.
Among them all, Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni sighed softly.
Shin's strength didn't shock him — not truly. A prodigy that appeared once in a century was within expectations.
What disappointed him was this: Shin didn't seem like someone who played nice.
Back on the field, Shin shifted his gaze from Ichimaru Gin to others in the lineup. It was as though he were choosing his next opponent.
"What arrogance," Soifon snorted, turning her fierce glare to Ōmaeda Marechiyo beside her.
"You're up."
Ōmaeda paled. "Captain… I don't think I can beat him…"
Soifon's scowl darkened. Her gaze was like daggers. Ōmaeda, cornered, had no choice but to stand.
The crowd's attention immediately returned to the arena.
Shin had seen Ōmaeda before at Vice-Captain meetings, but they'd never spoken a word.
Ōmaeda's huge frame and flashy attire looked ridiculous rather than intimidating.
"Third Seat Tachikawa," Ōmaeda said with a sheepish smile, "this is just a friendly match, yeah? Friendship first, competition second. Let's go easy, huh?"
Shin smiled. "Of course. Friendship first."
Ōmaeda looked delighted. "Right, right! Let's just have a light round—"
"Ōmaeda! What the hell are you babbling about?!"
Soifon's angry voice cut through the air like a blade.
Ōmaeda winced. "...Tachikawa-san, I'm going in!"
With that, he drew his zanpakutō and intoned,
"Smash him, Gokei-on!"
The blade shimmered and transformed into a massive spiked black flail, a grotesque meteor hammer.
The audience gasped.
Ōmaeda grabbed the chain, swung the monstrous weapon in a wide arc, wind howling with each swing. With a roar, he leapt forward and hurled it toward Shin.
It looked like it could pulp a building, let alone a person.
Shin didn't dodge. He raised one hand calmly.
"Bakudō #8: Seki."
A shimmering spirit barrier formed in front of him. The meteor hammer struck — and bounced off, repelled completely.
Ōmaeda's eyes bulged in disbelief.
That was Bakudō #8, one of the lowest-tier spells.
And it deflected his full-force attack?
That meant Shin's spiritual pressure had to be immense.
Growling, he swung the chain again, flail whistling through the air. His pressure flared like a storm.
"Crush him, Gokei-on!"
This time, the swing came even harder.
Shin placed one hand on his waist.
Schink—
A flash of steel.
One slash.
The meteor hammer was deflected, its trajectory veering wide.
Shin vanished like a wraith, reappearing a meter from Ōmaeda.
Ōmaeda paled.
Once his zanpakutō was released, it wasn't suited for close combat. Worse — it was mid-swing, completely out of reach.
He tried to back away, but—
Agony.
Pain erupted in both legs. He collapsed like a felled tree.
Thud!
Ōmaeda Marechiyo hit the ground. Hard.
His legs wouldn't move. Couldn't move.
Shin had pierced the Reiketsu in both knees — severing the spiritual channels that controlled his legs.
He sat there dazed.
Before him, Tachikawa Shin stood calm and composed in black shihakushō, returning his blade to its sheath.
If drawing your sword doesn't strike fear into others, you may as well not draw it at all.
Since he'd chosen to draw it…
He would leave an unforgettable impression.
Soifon, watching from afar, exhaled deeply. "Useless oaf…"
She'd known this would happen. Still, she had hoped Ōmaeda might show at least a shred of backbone.
But to lose this fast — not much better than Saitō earlier.
This Tachikawa Shin… he might already be beyond Vice-Captain level.
Could his Reiryoku be at Tier 3?
If so… he might qualify as Captain-class.
But that shouldn't be possible. According to the files she reviewed yesterday, when Shin enrolled, his Reiryoku had tested at Tier 8 — the lowest class.
You don't leap from Tier 8 to Tier 3 in a year.
Ōmaeda was stretchered off by Fourth Division medics. He covered his face in embarrassment and muttered, "Walk faster…"
Isane's diagnosis confirmed: both his leg Reiketsu had been pierced.
This only deepened her concern. Would Shin's aggression eventually cause problems?
Three matches in.
Three victories.
Each opponent lasted no more than two moves.
The rest of the participants began to sweat.
Was this their fate too?
One Bankai-wielding Ichimaru Gin was enough — now this Fourth Division madman too?
Were they just here to be his stepping stones?
These were veterans, decades in service — and none had experienced such humiliation.
"I'll go."
A voice broke the tension.
All eyes turned. It was Hōin Rikū of the Third Division.
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
Hōin Rikū — known and respected. The acting leader of the Third since they had neither Captain nor Vice-Captain.
But despite acting as both, he had never earned promotion beyond 3rd Seat.
Maybe that was all his talent could offer.
Or maybe… something else.
But everyone knew: he wasn't strong. Not compared to true Vice-Captains.
He walked forward anyway.
"Shin-kun."
Hōin Rikū smiled as he stepped into the ring.
He'd once invited Shin to join the Third — but Shin never accepted. Understandable. His zanpakutō leaned toward healing; Fourth was a natural home.
Besides, the Third's Captain seat had already been unofficially reserved.
Shin bowed slightly. "Hōin-senpai."
"I underestimated you before, Shin-kun. You've really impressed me today."
"I didn't expect you to step up."
"Well, better to lose with dignity than to be picked off like a coward."
Shin didn't reply.
He drew his zanpakutō.
Hōin Rikū did the same.
He knew he couldn't win.
So he charged, blade raised high.
He was quick — for a 3rd Seat.
In the blink of an eye, he reached Shin, slashing down toward the shoulder.
Slick.
Whoosh.
Clang!
A single spark.
Shin's strike was so fast, even at point-blank, Rikū couldn't see it.
His own blade flew from his hand.
Shin's blade kissed his throat.
Cold. Piercing. Final.
"Thank you for the match, Hōin-senpai."
Rikū swallowed hard.
He had fought beside Shin on missions before, seen him dispatch Hollows like swatting flies.
But fighting against him… was different.
He felt sorry for those Hollows now.
They never even knew what killed them.
He staggered back, picked up his sword.
He was lucky. Shin hadn't disabled him.
Why?
Did Shin go easy on him?
Because of their prior acquaintance?
He could only hope so.
Rikū bowed and left the ring, sparing a glance at the Captains.
Each wore a different face.
Byakuya Kuchiki remained unreadable.
But whispers broke out among the spectators.
Rikū lost — but walked away fine.
If the next few participants were crippled like Ōmaeda and Saitō, Rikū might automatically win by default.
That could vault the Third Division up the leaderboard.
"Captain-Commander," Chōjirō Sasakibe leaned in. "Shall we pause the matches and adjust the rules?"
Yamamoto paused — then said, "No. Continue."
He watched Shin intently.
He had already tried to rig the rules against this boy.
Yet Shin had still gotten results.
Now he wondered:
Had Shin reached Captain-class?
What was his Reiryoku tier?
Had he mastered Bankai?
And most importantly—
Could he surpass Ichimaru Gin?
An ordinary Shinigami has no right to challenge the order.
But a Captain… even the nobles must make way.
And a young Captain?
Priceless.
"Gin."
Aizen Sōsuke spoke at last, his smile gentle as ever.
He adjusted his glasses.
"Is it time for me to take the stage?" Gin asked, smiling lazily. "I thought someone as important as me was meant to close the show."
Aizen chuckled. "Didn't you notice? Someone can't wait for you anymore."