In the Seireitei, there are three official paths to become a Captain of the Gotei 13:
One: pass the Captain Proficiency Test in the presence of at least three current Captains, including the Head Captain.
Two: receive recommendations from six Captains and approval from three others.
Three: defeat the current Captain in front of two hundred witnesses.
Thus, mastering Bankai isn't technically a requirement—though generally, anyone of Captain level possesses one. Exceptions exist—like Zaraki Kenpachi of the Eleventh Division.
Ichimaru Gin's mastery of Bankai was a secret known only to a few among the Gotei 13's upper echelon. Ordinary Shinigami had no idea.
Likewise, the position of Third Division Captain had yet to be officially announced as vacant. Yamamoto was merely waiting until Gin fully mastered his Bankai to proceed. Everyone expected him to inherit the title in time.
As Gin stepped onto the arena platform, Captains and Lieutenants alike grew solemn.
Among Vice-Captains and upper officers, only Sasakibe Chōjirō stood above Gin. Most considered Gin the strongest below Captain rank. There was a vast chasm between those who had achieved Bankai and those who hadn't.
Captains understood this better than anyone.
But what about Tachikawa Shin?
He had demonstrated strength sufficient to overwhelm Vice-Captains.
Could it be… he, too, stood at that threshold?
As Gin approached, Shin tilted his head and said, "I thought you planned to be the final act."
Gin smiled, eyes narrowed. "I did. But Captain Aizen said someone's getting impatient. Is that you, Shin-kun?"
Shin chuckled. "You say that like I'm eagerly looking forward to this match—as if I see you as a true opponent."
Gin's eyes shifted ever so slightly. "Oh? Was I being presumptuous?"
Shin unsheathed his asauchi, holding it before him.
"Let me tell you something, Vice-Captain Ichimaru. Since I first picked up a sword, I've never lost a match. On my Shinō Academy record, it says I 'excel in zanjutsu.' But what does 'excel' even mean? How skilled must one be to be called that?
"The word only means that your ability fits within someone else's understanding. It's ironic, really—those instructors thought my sword was something they could comprehend."
Gin's brow twitched. He hadn't thought Shin was this… arrogant.
"Are you saying you surpassed the teachers who taught you?" he asked quietly.
Shin merely smiled, unbothered.
"You're said to have graduated the Academy in a year—celebrated as a prodigy across the Soul Society. But let me ask you something."
"Oh? And what's that?"
"Have you ever lost?"
Gin went silent for a breath. Then that same serene grin returned.
"If you beat me here, it doesn't matter whether I've lost before, does it?"
Off to the side, Matsumoto Rangiku watched nervously.
Few knew this, but she and Gin had grown up together—childhood friends.
He'd vanished one day, saying he wanted to become a Shinigami. When she eventually joined the Gotei herself, she found him again—but Gin had changed. Distant. Cold.
She had tried, again and again, to reach him. Every time, she was met with polite deflection.
She had hoped this tournament would be her chance—to face him in combat, look him in the eyes, see if there was still some trace of the boy she once knew.
As for the outcome?
She knew Gin had Bankai. She didn't think Shin could win.
As for Shin—he bore Gin no hatred. Anyone who could suppress himself for a hundred years for a goal deserved some measure of respect.
But now, Gin stood in his way.
Neither man offered a bow.
Gin slowly unsheathed his zanpakutō—short, slim, resembling a tantō, its length similar to Shin's asauchi.
They stood ten meters apart.
In a flash of white, Gin's blade extended at lightning speed—too fast to follow—piercing straight through the space Shin had just been standing in.
Shinsō.
The zanpakutō that could extend at will.
But its true terror wasn't in its range—it was in its speed.
Shin had moved the instant Gin struck, using shunpo to narrowly avoid it. The blade passed through a fading afterimage.
Gin was surprised. That had been his fastest strike in shikai. Shin shouldn't have had any intel detailed enough to dodge it—not at first glance.
A step back—instinctive.
Just in time to parry a horizontal strike from Shin.
Fast.
Shin's shunpo was just as fast as Gin's.
Gin blurred back, gaining distance, and shot Shinsō toward him again.
CLANG—!
Sparks burst from the impact. The whistling blade screeched as Shin caught it mid-extension.
"Hadō #31: Shakkahō!"
Gin followed up with a spell, skipping the incantation. Flames surged.
But Shin countered with a burst of reiryoku.
Bakudō #8: Seki!
The flames scattered. The moment was broken.
A chill crept up Gin's spine—he was behind him.
Gin barely avoided Shin's strike with another step of shunpo.
The distance widened again.
He panted once, then focused.
This kid is fast. As fast as I am.
Most assumed Gin had Bankai. They had no idea how strong he truly was.
But he now knew—Tachikawa Shin was dangerously close.
No more holding back.
Aizen hadn't given orders, but Gin knew: this fight would reveal Shin's true power.
And this time, he wouldn't fail like Tōsen had in the World of the Living.
Gin's eyes narrowed.
"Shoot to kill, Shinsō!"
Another rapid-fire thrust. Shin parried again—slightly—but Gin was already there, blade pulled back, pressing close.
Shin sneered—So you want to fight up close?
He swung. A flurry of chaotic slashes burst like flower petals. Gin stumbled back under the barrage.
He's pressing me!
A gap. Shunpo. Shin appeared behind him—blade arcing toward Gin's neck.
SHNK—!
From beneath Gin's sleeve, a white streak shot out—Shinsō, fired from under his arm at point-blank.
Shin didn't have time to dodge.
The impact smashed into his side, sending him flying.
He crashed meters away, skidding across the ground.
But when he rose—his expression hadn't changed.
No blood.
No damage.
Gin blinked.
"That hit you. Why aren't you injured? Not even your uniform's torn."
Shin replied coolly. "Did you forget? My zanpakutō is a Kaidō-type."
Gin's eyes narrowed. "So… what does it do, exactly?"
"Nothing much," Shin said. "Just… I don't get hurt."
Silence.
Not get hurt?!
Even the audience murmured.
Impossible. No zanpakutō could make someone invincible.
Maybe it just healed instantly?
But even the uniform?
"Really now?" Gin said with a smirk. "I find that hard to believe."
"Then test it," Shin said.
Gin's eyes hardened. His blade dropped.
Shinsō fired—dead at Shin's face.
But Shin tilted his head. Calm.
The white blade missed—barely.
He could see it. He could dodge it.
At close range… only then could Gin land a hit.
Unless…
Bankai.
Gin hesitated. Should he?
Shin suddenly sheathed his blade. One hand on the hilt.
Schink—
"Yasha Senkū."
He drew in a flash. The swing formed a pale crescent of sword energy—two meters long—racing toward Gin.
No spiritual pressure. It looked weaker than even a low-level Kidō.
But Gin's instincts screamed.
He knew that technique—he'd seen it obliterate Menos and injure Tōsen.
He leapt away, Shinsō retracting.
The wave of sword energy struck a pillar of sekiseki stone—the nearly indestructible substance.
And left a crack.
A shallow one—but still.
Gasps echoed across the stands.
Impossible.
Sekiseki stone absorbed reiryoku. Even Yamamoto couldn't harm it with pure energy.
But Shin's sword slash had cut it.
Yamamoto and Unohana both looked stunned.
They had heard legends of swordmasters—men who could cut steel, tear the air, unleash sword aura without reiryoku.
Humans.
Not Shinigami.
Not bound by spiritual pressure—only by the blade.
But this was real.
Gin hadn't seen it. He was too busy worrying about the slash itself.
But in that one moment of distraction—
Shin closed the gap.
Too late.
Gin's eyes snapped open.
He couldn't dodge. Couldn't block.
If this hit, he'd be like the others—crippled. Unable to continue.
BOOM—!
Gin's spiritual pressure exploded.
A visible vortex of reiryoku surged around him, a hurricane of power slamming outward.
It was enough—barely—to slow Shin's sword.
The duel teetered on a razor's edge.