Bleach: The Invincible Slacker from Rukongai

On a sand dune overlooking the battlefield, Uehara Shiroha gazed indifferently at the 11th Division Shinigami struggling against the three Great Hollows. Their blades clashed against the towering creatures, barely holding their ground.

Without shifting his stance, he turned slightly toward Ise Nanao. "Go support them," he commanded.

"Understood, Mr. Uehara!" Nanao responded without hesitation, immediately rushing toward the battlefield.

She descended onto the sands below, clutching her book tightly.

Madarame Ikkaku, the bald-headed Shinigami of the 11th Division, slashed viciously at the Hollow's feet with his Zanpakutō, Hōzukimaru, carving deep gashes into its grotesque limbs. He let out a hearty laugh before glancing at Nanao, his eyes filled with amusement.

"This is the support from the Eighth Division? A woman, without even a sword, just holding a book?" He scoffed, dodging a claw swipe from the Hollow. "What are you gonna do? Read it to them? Maybe bore them to death?"

The surrounding 11th Division members chuckled at his remark.

Once, such words might have shaken Nanao. Standing before these monstrous Hollows on a battlefield drenched in chaos would have been enough to paralyze her with fear.

But now, she was different.

Trained under Uehara Shiroha's guidance, Nanao ignored the jeers and calmly channeled her spiritual pressure. Without hesitation, she extended her palm forward, incanting with unwavering resolve.

"Hado Number Fifty-Eight: Tenran!"

A fierce whirlwind erupted from her fingertips, the turbulent winds twisting into a violent storm.

She didn't stop at just one.

"Tenran!"

"Tenran!"

Three powerful gusts converged, merging into a massive tornado that roared across the battlefield. The swirling winds lifted sand, debris, and even some lesser Hollows, sweeping them into the air. The powerful storm struck the towering Gillian's legs, sending tremors through its massive body.

The force wasn't enough to destroy it outright—but it was enough to make it stumble.

The Gillian lost its balance and crashed to the ground with an earth-shaking impact.

"Nice work!" Ikkaku grinned as he dashed forward, his eyes burning with battle lust. "Hōzukimaru, pierce him!"

The Shinigami of the 11th Division seized the opportunity, unleashing a barrage of relentless slashes at the Hollow's fallen form. Their blades flashed in the dim light, striking with all the force they could muster. Their veins bulged from exertion, their spiritual pressure surging with every strike.

A moment later—

Crack!

The Gillian's mask shattered into pieces, its body dissipating into Reiatsu.

Cheers erupted from the 11th Division.

Despite their initial skepticism, their gazes toward Nanao had changed. They still disdained the reliance on Kido over raw swordsmanship, but they couldn't deny the effectiveness of her magic.

She had proven herself.

"The last one..." Nanao muttered, exhaling deeply as she wiped sweat from her brow.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly. The battle had drained her significantly. Kido was powerful, but against creatures of this scale, the strain on her spiritual pressure was immense.

Battling such enormous foes wasn't just physically exhausting—it was mentally taxing as well.

"Not bad for a woman," one of the Shinigami muttered, giving her a nod of approval.

"What's your name, kid?" another asked.

Nanao offered them a small, polite smile, responding with nothing more than a dip of her head.

But before she could catch her breath, a chilling sensation crawled up her spine.

She turned sharply.

Uehara Shiroha was gone.

Her heart clenched.

Had he been disappointed? Had she failed to meet his expectations?

Her thoughts were cut short when a sudden boom echoed across the dunes.

Her expression froze.

A massive shadow loomed over them, stretching across the battlefield like a tidal wave of darkness.

"What the—?" Ayasegawa Yumichika followed her gaze, his usual composed expression shifting to one of disbelief. "Wait... how—?"

Madarame Ikkaku's narrow eyes widened as well. "No way..."

All around them—emerging from beneath the shifting sands—Gillian after Gillian began to rise.

Dozens of them.

Their grotesque, masked faces peered down at the Shinigami, their massive forms blotting out the dim crescent moon above.

"There must be at least fifty of them!" Ikkaku hissed. His grip tightened around his Zanpakutō. "Damn it... We barely survived three of them, but fifty—?"

A ripple of panic spread through the lower-ranked Shinigami.

Some trembled, falling to their knees.

"It's over… We're dead..."

"We can't win against that many…"

"Captain Zaraki—please come save us!"

In the expeditionary force's temporary headquarters, Kyōraku Shunsui's relaxed demeanor vanished.

His expression darkened.

"A trap," he murmured.

He hadn't expected the Hollows to strategize—to bait them into a confrontation, only to ambush them with overwhelming numbers.

Without hesitation, he issued an urgent order. "Send word to Suì-Fēng—get the Second Division here now!"

He clenched his fists. He couldn't leave his post. Not yet.

All he could do was pray.

"Please, Shiroha… Get Nanao out of there. Don't let me down."

Back on the battlefield, Nanao struggled to breathe. The sheer pressure exuded by the gathered Hollows suffocated the air itself.

She willed herself to stay strong.

"I won't disappoint you, Mr. Uehara…"

Yumichika sighed, his usual obsession with beauty overshadowed by grim resignation.

"Dying like this is hardly beautiful," he muttered. Then, with a smirk, he added, "But I suppose I don't mind dying alongside you all."

Ikkaku let out a sharp exhale. "Damn shame... If only I had fully mastered it—" he glanced at Hōzukimaru, frustration flickering in his gaze. Then, he smirked.

"But we ain't going down easy. Let's fight till the last damn breath!"

The Shinigami readied themselves for a desperate stand.

Then—

Someone moved.

A lone figure stepped forward.

He wore a Shinigami's uniform, but his presence eclipsed the battlefield itself.

He stood at the front, between the Shinigami and the overwhelming horde of Hollows.

A single man.

A single sword.

Compared to the towering Gillians, his figure seemed minuscule.

But his aura—his spiritual pressure—surged skyward like a roaring inferno, piercing the heavens themselves.

The air cracked under the weight of it.

Even the Hollows hesitated.

Some flinched.

Yet, an unspoken command rippled through their ranks, compelling them forward. The Gillians raised their heads, their mouths opening wide.

A wave of Ceros—burning, destructive energy—charged at the figure all at once.

The night itself seemed to shrink away in fear.

The crescent moon in the sky vanished behind the ominous glow.

And then—

The world erupted in blinding, crimson light.

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