"So, can you tell me now—what exactly did you call me out for?"

After leaving the 11th Division, Araki's smile immediately faded. He turned to the 'Sword God' Ōetsu Nimaiya beside him and asked with a serious tone.

"Some things were difficult to say back in the 11th Division's barracks, but now I can be direct with you..."

Ōetsu paused, then continued, "But the specifics still depend on whether your ability works on the Soul King. If it does, we hope you can collect the fragments of the Soul King scattered across the world—and deliver them to the Soul King Palace."

"To be honest, the power of the Soul King shouldn't be left scattered around like this! It's not something mere mortals should be meddling with!"

At that moment, Hyōsube Ichibē, the monk, had appeared beside Araki and Nimaiya unnoticed, finishing the explanation that he hadn't given earlier.

"Simple," Araki nodded slightly after some thought.

Hyōsube's request was reasonable, and Araki agreed to it.

"Araki, I don't have the same 'foresight' approach as Hyōsube. I just want to see the Zanpakutō at your waist!" Nimaiya grinned. "Mind letting me borrow it?"

"Here," Araki said, untying the sword from his waist and tossing it to Nimaiya.

"This sword..." Nimaiya slowly drew the Zanpakutō from its scabbard, his eyes fixed on the blade's patterns. Cold sweat began to form on his forehead.

"What? Is something wrong with it? Or is it not your creation?" Araki asked, raising a brow at Nimaiya's shocked expression.

He had taken this Zanpakutō from another Shinigami back when it was still just an Asauchi, so it wasn't likely that Nimaiya had crafted it specifically for him.

"It's definitely one of mine! Look at that craftsmanship—the pattern is perfect!"

Araki twitched slightly at Nimaiya's sudden change in tone.

"This guy… so narcissistic."

"I'll give it back now!" Nimaiya handed the sword back. "There's nothing wrong with it. I remember this one. No doubt—it's mine. So the problem isn't me. And it's not the sword. That only leaves..."

Nimaiya turned his eyes toward Hyōsube Ichibē, who had been silent all this time.

"Hm?"

Araki retrieved his Zanpakutō and followed Nimaiya's gaze.

"Brother Araki," Hyōsube spoke, "You should know I'm the Monk Who Calls the Real Name. Every Zanpakutō, every object in Soul Society has its name because I gave it that name. That's how I made it into the Zero Division. Every time an Asauchi bonds with a Shinigami, I know its name. It's never failed me."

He scratched his cheek awkwardly before continuing.

"I get it. So?" Araki asked, still unsure where this was going.

"That's the issue!" Hyōsube said, frustrated. "In all my years in Soul Society, I've never been wrong about a Zanpakutō's real name. Not once!"

"That's amazing~" Araki played along with light sarcasm.

"But you... You're the only one I got wrong."

Hyōsube deflated like a balloon, looking utterly dejected.

"You mean the Bankai name is different from the one you received?"

Araki raised an eyebrow.

"Even the Shikai name is completely different," Hyōsube admitted, his large eyes narrowing as he stared at the blade in Araki's hand.

"How different are we talking?"

"Haha... Let's just say, not a single character matched what I originally gave it."

"Want to study it yourself?" Araki offered, lifting the sword toward him again.

"No! Don't bring that thing near me!" Hyōsube recoiled, backing away repeatedly. "I'm timid! I scare easily!"

Araki blinked in surprise. For someone like Hyōsube, the natural enemy of all Zanpakutō, to react like that...

It wasn't the first time either. Back in the 11th Division, when Araki had drawn his sword, Hyōsube had shown subtle fear. Araki wasn't sure then—but now he was.

"Ruriko," Araki called out inwardly to his Zanpakutō, "this monk seems a little afraid of you~"

Om~ Om~ Om~

A rhythmic bell echoed in Araki's heart in response.

"Heh..." Araki smirked.

"The fake monk meets the real Buddha. How could he not be afraid?"

With a chuckle, Araki's Zanpakutō did not answer his question, but instead posed one of its own.

"…"

While Araki was conversing with his Zanpakutō...

Hyōsube Ichibē and Nimaiya Ōetsu exchanged glances. The blade was indeed forged by Nimaiya, yet this "sword" had been taken from its original owner by Araki and entrusted to his master—a figure who, by rights, should not exist. From the moment it passed into Araki's hands, the sword slipped beyond even the control of Ōetsu and Ichibē. It had become a Zanpakutō that evolved and transformed on its own, and its abilities were simply unfathomable.

To Ōetsu, the sword's capabilities weren't necessarily troublesome—but for Ichibē, the implications were grave. Just by sensing the Zanpakutō, he felt a peculiar pull… an illusion, almost, whispering that he should abandon his path and convert to Buddhism, to serve under the Medicine Master, Lapis Light King Buddha. For someone like Hyōsube Ichibē, who had always been the one to suppress others' Zanpakutō, the realization was alarming.

He muttered to himself, "How could such an absurd Zanpakutō exist in this world? It feels as though it was born solely to counter me! Your Majesty… Spirit King… is this something you foresaw? Is this part of your grand design?"

For the first time, Ichibē, who prided himself on overriding the names and power of others, felt the deep discomfort of being suppressed himself.

Araki didn't speak of it. After all, in truth, he was not a native soul of this world—and since a Zanpakutō is the manifestation of one's soul, it stood to reason that his blade would defy the conventional logic of Soul Society, and even Ichibē's authority.

Thus, Araki, Hyōsube Ichibē, and the Sword God Nimaiya Ōetsu continued on their journey.

Before long, the trio arrived at the ancestral land of the Shiba Clan—one of the Four Great Noble Houses of Soul Society.

A group of Gotei 13 soldiers stood in formation at the entrance—or at least, that was the official story. In truth, only two figures had come to see Araki off: Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni and Sasakibe Chōjirō. The rest were likely just soldiers of the First Division, unfamiliar to Araki.

"Araki…"

Sasakibe Chōjirō instinctively stepped forward upon seeing Araki approaching with the Zero Squad.

"…"

But before he could move, Yamamoto Genryūsai extended his arm, stopping him with a silent gesture.

"Head Captain!"

Sasakibe looked at Genryūsai in confusion, eyes wide with concern.

"…"

Genryūsai ignored him, his sharp eyes fixed on Araki.

"Don't worry."

Araki met the old man's gaze with a calm smile and nodded, signaling that everything would be fine.

"Hyōsube… Don't forget the promise you made to me."

Receiving Araki's assurance, Genryūsai turned to the 'Monk Who Calls the Real Name'—his voice carrying unmistakable gravity.

"Relax. As long as your apprentice doesn't make the first move, what could a mere monk like me possibly do to him?"

Ichibē shrugged dramatically, spreading his arms with feigned helplessness.

"…It had better stay that way."

Only then did Genryūsai let out a quiet sigh of relief.

At that moment, a voice rang out behind them.

"Everyone! The Shiba Cannon is ready!"

The current head of the Shiba family—wearing the clan's spiral emblem on his cheek and radiating his usual cheerful energy—strode toward the launch site, torch in hand.

Standing at the edge of the Tenchū Tank, the exclusive transport of the Zero Squad, he beamed at Araki and the others.

Araki glanced at the young man, who bore a striking resemblance to Kurosaki Ichigo, save for a different color palette and personality. Despite that, the story insisted this was an entirely new character. The corner of Araki's mouth twitched slightly.

"Gotta hand it to the Shiba family—their genes really are powerful," he thought. "Just like how every member of the Shihōin clan has that dark skin… I respect the consistency."

"Alright, let's go!"

With a casual arm around Araki's shoulders, Ichibē guided him and Ōetsu into the Tenchū Tank.

"Farewell!"

As the Zero Squad and Araki boarded, the Shiba clan head lit the cannon's fuse with a grin.

BOOM!

With a thunderous explosion, the Tenshu Chariot—powered by the force of the Shiba Cannon—spiraled up into the heavens.

"…Is this really safe?"

Watching the chariot vanish into the clouds, a few of the First Division soldiers muttered under their breath, unnerved by the chaotic launch method. The fabled Zero Squad seemed… a bit more eccentric than expected.

"Head Captain…"

Once the chariot disappeared, Sasakibe turned back to Yamamoto, eyes filled with worry. He wanted to understand why Araki had gone with the Zero Squad—he didn't want this to be the last time they ever met.

"Do not fear. Everything is in Araki's hands now."

Yamamoto Genryūsai gently patted Sasakibe's shoulder, his voice filled with quiet trust.

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