Bleach: The Template System Chose Me, The Forgotten Kuchiki

The instant Shiraha flickered into existence beside the wounded and faltering Matsumoto Rangiku, he placed himself between her battered form and the towering Adjuchas, whose descending talons—razor-sharp and gleaming with the promise of death—were already carving a brutal arc through the air, intent on delivering one final, overwhelming stroke that would end her life where she stood.

Yet before the fatal blow could land, Matsumoto's Zanpakutō surged upward in a desperate blur, intercepting the strikes in a flurry so rapid it rang across the rooftop like steel shrieking against stone; she parried three consecutive slashes with trembling arms, her heels grinding deep into the fractured surface as she retreated step by step, her strength faltering under each collision, the momentum pushing harder with every impact, tilting the tide further against her.

The Adjuchas let out a cruel, rasping laugh that sliced through the tension like jagged glass, its voice thick with malice and dripping with the sadistic joy of dominance as it sneered, "Is this all a Shinigami can do? Barely standing, barely breathing, barely resisting—how pitiful. Let me devour you in peace."

Confident, unhurried, and arrogant beyond reason, the creature advanced like a predator savoring its kill, every step exuding the mockery of one who no longer saw its target as a threat, and with each moment, her spiritual pressure thinned, her resolve eroded, and the weight of collapse loomed heavier.

Then, shattering the rhythm of defeat like a trumpet of divine protest, a chant tore across the battlefield—not frantic nor hesitant, but sharp-edged, synchronized, and cleanly enunciated with the discipline of trained warriors.

"The mask of flesh and blood, Vientiane, soaring wings, the name of man... Heat and chaos, striding the southern seas—advance!"

From the ridge above, Renji Abarai, Izuru Kira, and Momo Hinamori stood tall, arms extended with reiryoku blazing from their fingertips, their expressions carved with unwavering determination as they unleashed the culmination of their Kido.

"Hadō #31: Shakkahō!"

Three crimson spheres ignited in a single heartbeat, streaking through the air like meteors, converging on the Adjuchas' flank in a triangle of raw power and precision—yet when they struck, the Hollow barely turned its head, its hide singed but unbroken, the blasts reduced to nothing more than a mild warmth against armor far thicker than flesh.

Matsumoto, still clawing to stay alive, caught the crimson arcs in her periphery and winced, horror and helplessness tightening her voice as she cried out, "You three reckless idiots—why haven't you escaped yet?!"

It wasn't reproach that carried in her voice but fear—desperation borne not from the hopelessness of her own injuries but from their suicidal courage, their intervention noble yet misguided, their bravery positioning them on the path of annihilation they weren't prepared to survive.

Renji's eyes widened as the futility of their assault settled in. "Why didn't it work…?"

Kira's teeth clenched, his voice sharpening with restrained panic. "Its defense is ridiculous—it didn't even flinch."

Hinamori, frozen and trembling, stared at her shaking palms, her voice barely more than breath. "We didn't even scratch it…"

The Adjuchas turned with slow finality, spiritual pressure rising like a crashing tide as crimson light coalesced within its mouth, and with a calmness more chilling than rage, it whispered its verdict.

"Bala."

In the next instant, a condensed sphere of death screamed through the air, faster than thunder and honed with lethal precision, aimed directly at the trio of cadets.

Matsumoto lunged forward with a burst of surviving instinct, blade drawn high, her Zanpakutō slicing toward the beast's throat—not to kill, but to interrupt, to deflect, to force any shift—and her strike landed with enough force to stagger its posture, just enough to disrupt the firing line.

The Bala swerved, narrowly missing the cadets, but still found its mark in the structure behind them where it exploded with violent finality.

Boom.

The top floors vaporized in a single pulse, rubble disintegrated into dust, and the resulting shockwave hurled the cadets through the air like discarded dolls, their bodies colliding hard with the ground, pain erupting from every joint as groans escaped them amid the scattering debris.

Had they taken the blast head-on, nothing would have remained—not even ash.

Snarling in pain and fury, Matsumoto rose to her feet, blood tracing her lip, eyes hardening with a fire that refused to die. "Nadegiri—Whisper, Haineko."

Her Zanpakutō dissolved in a shimmering cascade, reforming into a cloud of glittering ash, each particle sharpened to a razored edge, and with a flick of her wrist, she commanded the storm to converge, swirling with lethal grace as it closed around the Adjuchas in a shimmering cyclone.

The slivers moved like blades through wind, carving, slicing, drawing blood with every pass—pfft, pfft, pfft—but no matter how many wounds opened, they sealed in seconds, the creature's skin knitting back into place with obscene efficiency.

"High-Speed Regeneration… of course," she spat, her voice tight with frustration and fury, knowing well enough that unless she destroyed its core or severed its head, the ash, no matter how sharp, would never matter.

Suddenly, the red flash bloomed again.

Boom.

A massive Cero exploded from the center of the ash storm, obliterating the particles as it surged toward Matsumoto with unstoppable ferocity.

She moved on instinct, raising her hilt to block, but the power behind the blast shattered what defenses she had left, consuming her in a blinding wave of destruction.

Boom.

She crashed through the rooftop wall, her body trailing blood and dust, landing in a brutal sprawl that sent shards scattering across the stone as her Shikai collapsed, fragments fluttering like ash at her feet, and the Adjuchas approached once more, red light curling in its mouth as it prepared the final blow.

"Shinigami," it hissed, voice thick with venomous pleasure, "consider yourself honored—your soul will become the foundation of my next evolution."

Her grip loosened. Her eyes dimmed. Her thoughts slipped into the quiet fog of approaching death.

And then—Shing!

A violet arc of spiritual energy screamed across the battlefield, slicing cleanly through the forming Cero and severing the creature's right arm at the shoulder in a single, perfect stroke. Blood gushed as the limb fell, lifeless and twitching, and a voice, low and razor-sharp, followed with cutting finality.

"Now tell me… is it your honor to die by my blade?"

Shiraha stood between the Hollow and his teacher, sword raised with serene purpose, presence coiled and calm, casting a silence more deafening than any roar.

"Shiraha!!" Renji's voice rose from the rubble, laced with stunned disbelief. "He's here!"

"He took off its arm… with one strike," Hinamori whispered, her voice hollow.

"This… this isn't normal," Kira muttered, transfixed.

Matsumoto, dazed and bloodied, could only stare. "Shiraha… you…"

The Adjuchas staggered back, its eyes burning with rage as regeneration overtook the wound, muscle spiraling back to life in grotesque fashion. "Who the hell are you?!"

Shiraha's voice remained level as his steps advanced. "Just a student," he said, eyes cold as steel, "but you hurt my teacher and my classmates… so use your life to apologize."

The Hollow snarled, fangs bared. "You think cutting off my arm means anything? That was luck! Your reiatsu's weak!"

Shiraha didn't respond with words.

He raised a single finger.

"Forty times gravity."

Reality shifted.

Boom.

The Hollow collapsed, crushed by an invisible weight that shattered the rooftop beneath it, its body pinned with cataclysmic force as bones cracked, joints snapped, and armor splintered under the pressure, the ground erupting in debris as it screamed in agony.

Ka-ka-ka.

Internal collapse overwhelmed its regeneration, organs rupturing, its spiritual core fracturing as the crushing gravity reduced its monstrous body to crumbling fragments.

It howled one last time—a scream that tore the sky.

And then it vanished.

Its form dissolved into particles, blown apart like ash in wind.

Silence reigned.

No cries. No tremors. No resistance.

Just stunned cadets standing in the wreckage, staring wide-eyed at a battlefield emptied by a single boy.

That… had been an Adjuchas.

A fully evolved Menos Grande.

And Shiraha had erased it like smoke in the wind.

Renji slapped himself, jaw slack. "Oi… Kira… tell me I'm not dreaming."

Kira barely nodded, eyes locked forward. "He really destroyed it. Instantly."

"I always knew Brother Shiraha was special," Hinamori murmured, her voice trembling, "but this… this is something else entirely…"

Without flair or theatrics, Shiraha walked to Matsumoto, extending a hand, voice gentle but unshaken. "Matsumoto-sensei. Let's get you up."

Dazed, she blinked, reached for his hand, let him steady her as her battered frame leaned into his support, her breath catching as she whispered through bloodied lips, "You're not human… You didn't even lift your limiter… and you still obliterated that thing… I couldn't even scratch it…"

He gave no reply, only offered his shoulder in quiet solidarity, never once taking his eyes off his fallen comrades.

All around them, cadets staggered back to their feet, the air still charged with awe and disbelief as they stared at the one who, in a single, unfathomable instant, shattered everything they thought they understood about strength, about talent, about what it meant to be born under Soul Society's sun.

And in that heavy silence, only one certainty echoed through their minds—

This wasn't a prodigy.

This was a monster.