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As the dust cleared, all eyes locked onto the figure standing calmly in the middle of the battlefield—Shiraha. His white uniform was unruffled, his composure unbroken, and most shockingly of all, his left hand still rested firmly against the massive blade of Komamura's Shikai. Not the blade of his Zanpakutō—just his bare hand.

The collective gaze of captains and onlookers shifted from disbelief to sheer astonishment.

"What?! How… how is that even possible?" Komamura's voice, usually a controlled thunder, cracked slightly as shock overtook him.

He could accept Shiraha blocking with a Shikai. He could even accept him using Shunpo to evade. But catching his attack—one on par with a seated officer's killing blow—with a single hand, unarmed? That wasn't strength. That was inhuman.

A ripple of awe passed through the Seventh Division ranks.

"Kuchiki-san just caught Captain Komamura's Shikai… with one hand."

"Is that even possible? That blade weighs more than a war elephant."

"His body… what kind of insane physical strength is that?"

Gone were the uncertain whispers of disbelief. The moment they saw the impossible with their own eyes, their tone shifted to reverence. No one called him by his first name anymore. Now it was "Third Seat Kuchiki."

Vice-Captain Iba Tetsuzaemon clenched his jaw, eyes narrowing. "To block the captain's Shikai with one hand, without even using his own Zanpakutō's abilities… that's not strength. That's monstrous."

Even he, who had fought alongside Komamura for years, would never dare block that attack directly. And yet, Shiraha had done so with the ease of batting away a leaf in the wind.

Ichimaru Gin's signature smirk never wavered, though his pupils shrank just slightly. "Ah, ah… such an impressive performance. Perhaps Komamura-taichō really might lose."

Shiraha hadn't even begun fighting seriously yet.

Zaraki Kenpachi's eye widened in manic glee. "Now this is getting fun! Kuchiki Shiraha… you're interesting! I'm going to fight you next!"

Had it not been for Yamamoto's authority keeping the court in order, Zaraki would have leapt into battle then and there.

"Well now," Kyoraku Shunsui muttered under his breath as he took a sip from his flask, "looks like we might've underestimated the new Third Seat. What do you think, Jūshirō?"

Ukitake chuckled softly, though he coughed afterward, hand covering his mouth. "Shiraha hasn't even used his Zanpakutō's release yet, but with that physical prowess alone… defeating Komamura won't be easy, but it won't be impossible either."

Shiraha glanced up toward Komamura with calm indifference, releasing the massive blade he had just caught. "I warned you earlier. Your Shikai's too weak. Go straight to Bankai."

Komamura's blade disintegrated slowly from the force, and he could feel it—the overwhelming density in Shiraha's body. What Komamura hadn't realized was that Shiraha's left hand, now radiating faint black cracks, was infused with perfected Armament Haki. The same unbreakable defense he'd used against Zaraki Kenpachi had now nullified Komamura's direct attack without even a scratch.

To Komamura's further disbelief, Shiraha still hadn't drawn upon any Zanpakutō techniques—no Shikai, no spiritual blade form—only raw, enhanced strength.

Komamura's hands tightened around his Zanpakutō. "Don't mock me!"

With a bellow of fury, he swung once more. The giant avatar above mimicked the movement instantly, its sword cleaving down with explosive force.

Shiraha's response was swift and effortless. He infused his staff blade with concentrated Armament Haki, his stance relaxed as he brought the blade forward to meet the strike.

A thunderclap rang out as steel met spirit. The shockwave rippled across the cracked ground. Beneath Shiraha, the stone floor fractured from the collision's force.

And yet he didn't budge.

He smiled slightly, calmly twisted his blade, and released the gravity seal—thirty times Earth's normal gravity radiated out in an instant, anchoring Komamura's massive spiritual construct in place. The moment the weight hit it, the arm buckled. Cracks spiderwebbed through the titan's blade until it shattered with a flash of spirit particles, disintegrating mid-air into glittering fragments.

Gasps erupted from every corner of the courtyard.

"Captain Komamura's Shikai… destroyed?"

"In a single blow?"

"Third Seat Kuchiki really did it!"

Not even a hint of spiritual release from Shiraha's own blade, no invocation, no name called out—just pure technique, enhanced gravity, and absurd control.

"I can't believe someone like him graduated from the Academy this year…" one Seventh Division member muttered, voice trembling.

Vice-Captain Iba swallowed hard. "Captain… you can't lose here."

Without giving Komamura time to recover, Shiraha lifted his hand again, and the pressure spiked. A crushing force swept down, thirty times denser than any normal gravity field, slamming onto Komamura's body like a collapsing mountain.

The captain's knees trembled under the weight. His spiritual pressure flared wildly in desperation, seeking to counterbalance the effect. But unlike the last time Shiraha used this technique during the captain's meeting—when he stood protected within the overlapping spiritual barriers of the other captains—this time, Komamura stood alone.

The ground cracked beneath him. Then collapsed entirely, dropping the armored warrior into a jagged crater.

"Captain Komamura," Shiraha said with quiet finality, "I told you. Without Bankai, you can't fight me. Why refuse to listen?"

His Shunpo shimmered as he vanished, reappearing directly behind Komamura before the armored giant could react. The force of gravity paralyzed his movements, trapping him in place.

Shiraha thrust.

The blade pierced through Komamura's chest, lodging deep near the heart before Shiraha appeared again several meters away in a flash of movement, leaving blood trailing behind.

The heavy clang of Komamura's armor sounded as he dropped to one knee, blood cascading down his breastplate. Pain wracked his body, but his will had not yet shattered.

"Sword pressure!"

He gritted his teeth, forcing spiritual power into his Zanpakutō. A wide, red wave of Reiryoku screamed forward from the blade, hurtling toward Shiraha.

But Shiraha merely lifted his right hand, staff blade still wrapped in Haki. With a single sweeping slash, he released three arcs of violet energy, crescent-shaped and razor-sharp. They collided with Komamura's red wave mid-air, ripping it apart with ease, and continued on, carving three deep furrows in the earth as they thundered toward him.

Komamura grunted, sensing the danger. He braced himself, spiritual pressure coalescing.

"Bankai—Kokujō Tengen Myō'ō!"

The sky above darkened as Komamura's Bankai manifested—a black-armored giant wielding an enormous blade, a towering shadow cast in raw destructive force. Its form stood behind him like a god of battle, weapons drawn and eyes glowing with fury.

The true fight had finally begun.

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