Early morning.
Higashi Shuuichi stepped out from Yushima Ōshu's quarters for the first time in quite a while, walking alongside him all the way to Seireitei's southern gate—a place he'd rarely paid attention to in the past.
As Shuuichi approached the barrier of the southern gate, the expected high-pitched alarm wailed into life.
A towering figure immediately dropped in front of him, glaring with unrestrained menace.
Bikūnyūdō—the guardian of Seireitei's southern entrance, Zhuwa Gate.
Shuuichi remembered this Shinigami.
"Who are you?" Bikūnyūdō demanded, releasing a vice-like Reiatsu comparable to that of a seated Vice-Captain. It closed in around Shuuichi like a physical wall.
"Musashi Kojirō, at your service," Shuuichi replied with a calm smile, his spiritual pressure carefully suppressed.
"Musashi Kojirō?"
Bikūnyūdō furrowed his brows. He had never heard of this name before—which meant he hadn't received any formal notification of someone named Musashi Kojirō entering Seireitei.
In response, Bikūnyūdō hoisted the massive axe on his back and slammed it into the ground before Shuuichi with enough force to quake the earth.
"Never heard of you. Which means this is as far as you go. Any further, and you'll be somewhere you don't belong."
Several patrolling Shinigami stationed near Zhuwa Gate began circling Shuuichi, ready to strike at the slightest provocation.
It was only then that Yushima Ōshu hurried up and inserted himself between the two, hastily explaining, "Lord Bikū! This Musashi Kojirō is a volunteer our Twelfth Division recently recruited from the outlying Rukongai districts for experimentation. He's not a threat!"
"Volunteer? What's that supposed to mean?"
Yushima followed the script Shuuichi had devised beforehand—but Shuuichi had clearly overestimated Bikūnyūdō's intelligence.
"If Lord Bikū doesn't understand, you can simply consider me an experimental subject of the Twelfth Division. I'm here to contribute my humble body to their research," Shuuichi said smoothly.
"An experimental subject for Twelfth Division…"
Bikūnyūdō eyed Yushima's attire—standard Shihakushō, and bearing the unmistakable sigil of the Twelfth. At least his identity checked out.
As for this "Musashi Kojirō"… Bikūnyūdō hesitated.
So did Yushima.
Only Shuuichi remained completely unfazed. Worst-case scenario? He'd be discovered and forced to flee again. As long as he wasn't caught directly by a Captain, he wasn't too concerned. And even if things got truly dire, he could always escape to Hell with Sayaba's aid—though that was far from ideal, especially without Kuryashiki Kenpachi there waiting for him.
Eventually, Bikūnyūdō relented. Better to offend any other Division than to draw the ire of Kurotsuchi Mayuri—that man was just a little too terrifying for comfort.
"All right. Since you're vouched for by the Twelfth, I'll let you pass. But listen well, Musashi Kojirō: don't go where you're not meant to, don't look at what you're not meant to see. And you"—he jabbed a finger at Yushima—"keep your 'volunteer' on a leash. If anything happens, I'll hold you responsible."
Meaningless threats.
But once inside the Seireitei proper, Yushima nearly burst from excitement. "It worked! Lord Shuuichi, you're amazing!"
"Relax, Ōshu. That was just step one," Shuuichi said flatly.
He'd hoped Yushima could procure official authorization from Mayuri to lend legitimacy to their entry, but Yushima was clearly persona non grata in his own division—likely because of his past collaboration with Urahara Kisuke. So, they were stuck improvising. Luckily, it worked.
They couldn't Shunpo openly, since Shuuichi's current identity—Musashi Kojirō—was supposedly a lowlife from South Rukongai. So it took them a while to reach the Twelfth Division headquarters.
Small bridges, flowing streams, tiled eaves—two towering sakura trees flanked the gate, petals scattering in the wind.
Mayuri hadn't altered much of what Urahara had built—only expanding the captain's office into a massive, subterranean lab spanning hundreds of square meters and plunging dozens of meters deep. He rarely let anyone else near it.
He hadn't even appointed a Vice-Captain, despite being in command for nearly three years.
"If you'd like, Lord Shuuichi, I can go announce your presence to Captain Mayuri," Yushima offered.
Shuuichi shot him a cold glare. "And say what? That the traitor Higashi Shuuichi is here to chat? If that worked, would I have gone through all this trouble sneaking in?"
"…Right."
Yushima scratched his head awkwardly.
"Go do what you need to. From here on, I'm on my own."
After dismissing Yushima, Shuuichi began walking a circuit around the modified lab. Any Twelfth Division members he encountered were swiftly knocked out with White Crawl (Hakufuku) and stashed away.
He carefully deployed a reinforced spiritual suppression barrier—borrowed from Urahara—to ensure whatever happened inside wouldn't trip alarms elsewhere.
Then he placed a hand on the laboratory's heavily fortified main door.
It didn't budge.
Shuuichi smirked. So, this was Mayuri's method of screening visitors.
Words wouldn't reach Mayuri. But Reiatsu would.
"Are you ready for me, Mayuri?"
With no audience, Shuuichi muttered quietly—knowing full well that the next thing he did would speak louder than words.
"Advance, Art of War. The wise warrior's ruse: Fire."
Reiryoku surged. Flame flickered. Pressure swelled.
Fuzan.
One slash—cleaving the lab entrance in half like paper.
From far below, in the lab's deepest chamber, Kurotsuchi Mayuri paused his experiment and looked up.
He'd been cross-referencing Urahara's gigai data and the soul-forging techniques of Ōetsu Nimaiya. But now—his most hated individual's spiritual pressure was rising directly overhead.
"…He's returned?"
Behind his Pharaoh-like mask, Mayuri showed no emotion. But he already knew—yes, it was Higashi Shuuichi.
And yes, he had anticipated this.
The reinforced door had indeed been designed to detect Shinigami Reiatsu. Mayuri had even felt a certain fondness for Shuuichi—who'd once provided him with rare research materials: the Bakyōtō from the Kasaragi family, a spatial gem from West Division…
Mayuri also recalled it was likely thanks to Shuuichi's maneuvering that Urahara had released him from the Maggot's Nest in the first place.
Even Shunsui Kyōraku, who had nominated Mayuri to succeed Urahara as Twelfth Captain, had likely done so on Shuuichi's behalf.
But when Shuuichi had sided with Urahara and helped him escape, that made him an enemy—of Seireitei, and thus, of Mayuri.
Mayuri sent out a hell butterfly with a short briefing to the Head Captain, then began waiting for reinforcements.
His lab was a fortress. Even someone of Shuuichi's strength wouldn't break in so easily.
Or so he thought—until his hell butterfly came fluttering back, disoriented and spinning.
There was only one explanation: someone had forcibly severed the lab from the surrounding space.
Mayuri scowled. The only one capable of that… was him—Urahara Kisuke.
He knew how.
If Mayuri couldn't break through to send reinforcements, he would be fighting alone.
"Fine. This is my domain anyway."
He wiped the sweat from his brow and turned serious.
Meanwhile, Shuuichi descended to the third sub-level.
The first two layers' traps were trivial—basic setups he bulldozed through with defensive Kidō.
But the third level? Something else entirely.
Five black-helmed knights, twenty red-helmed foot soldiers, and forty new gunmen in matching crimson armor.
"Mayuri made these?"
These constructs hadn't appeared in canon. They had no souls and seemed more advanced than anything Mayuri should've developed at this timeline.
And then it hit him: these were probably not Mayuri's work. He couldn't have built something even Urahara couldn't decipher, not yet.
"Intruder: Die."
The black-helmed knights launched a coordinated assault:
Hadō #33: Sōkatsui
Bakudō #30: Shitotsu Sansen
Bakudō #61: Rikujōkōrō
Hadō #63: Raikōhō
Bakudō #63: Sajō Sabaku
More intelligent than the ones Shuuichi had faced before. Their Kidō coordination was refined.
But still not enough.
Landing. Spin. Crescent Cut.
Like a waltz of steel, limbs flew. The gunmen followed, firing in organized volleys.
Their bullets? Utterly useless.
Until—
"…Hmm?"
A single slug embedded into his side.
Barely a millimeter deep, but its shape—it wasn't a bullet.
"Three."
Mayuri's voice echoed from below.
Shuuichi's smirk froze.
He'd overestimated himself.
High Reiatsu, flawless victories… he had let it get to his head.
It was a spiriton suppression dart, wasn't it?
"Two."
Mayuri's Gigai walked into view, wielding an already released Ashisogi Jizō.
Shuuichi could only move his thoughts.
"One."
Ashisogi Jizō stabbed him cleanly in the chest. Then Mayuri's puppet Shunpo'd away just before the paralysis kicked in.
He knew Shuuichi would try to react. So the puppet detonated.
An explosive suicide bomb.
Shuuichi's infinite regeneration couldn't be stopped—but if Mayuri just kept grinding down his stamina?
Boom.
The lab shook.
Mayuri turned to his table.
"…Got an idea."
He began experimenting.
Three minutes later, Shuuichi dropped down into the tenth layer—gasping.
He hadn't expected the Gigai trap. Mayuri knew his powers too well.
And now, something massive hovered above—
Golden Ashisogi Jizō.
Its massive mouth opened.
Shuuichi dropped to one knee, body limp from the toxic mist—a virus cloud derived from Mayuri's own blood.
It was over.
Or was it?
Shuuichi smirked.
"Fuzan."
The sky split.
Golden Ashisogi Jizō exploded upward in shards of light.
Somewhere below, Mayuri whispered:
"Half an hour. Give me half an hour…"
"Mn," Shuuichi replied behind him.
Mayuri nodded.
Strange.
But he cherished it.
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New translation : Naruto: I Can Use Corpse Release !
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