No Cheat in Bleach ? Watch me help Aizen then.
Chapter 169: I Suppose You’ve Never Seen a Hollow’s Resurrección, Right?

Chapter 169: I Suppose You’ve Never Seen a Hollow’s Resurrección, Right?

North Rukongai, District 61 — Windflow Mountain.

Back to this place again. Higashi Shuuichi hadn’t yet arrived, but under his instructions, the trial had already begun. Following Shuuichi’s plan, three checkpoints were established at different elevations of the mountain. Once the assessment began, all participants were forcibly separated and made to follow predetermined routes to complete the climb and check in at each height. The first to finish all three wins.

But before they set off, Kotetsu Isane noticed something off — it wasn’t Higashi Shuuichi giving the orders.

It was Ise Nanao.

"Nanao, where is Lord Shuuichi?" Isane asked.

"I don’t know. I imagine he’s gone to find that Yoshima Oushi."

She adjusted her glasses as she answered. And she wasn’t lying — Shuuichi hadn’t told her where he was headed. She only guessed.

And she guessed right.

Higashi Shuuichi had contacted Mayuri to inform him of his brief disappearance, then immediately found a secluded location, activated a spiritual pressure concealment barrier, and initiated Hollowfication.

He didn’t know what exactly had happened to Yoshima Oushi — but something had. Oushi wasn’t the kind to miss a scheduled appearance without cause. And given the nature of the Dangai, Shuuichi knew returning to Seireitei to get Mayuri’s help would cost far too much time.

Time passed differently in the Dangai. A delay of minutes outside meant centuries within.

So Shuuichi cut corners — used Hollowfication, tapped into the spatial ability innate to Hollows, and ripped open a Garganta straight into the Dangai.

Inside, there would be no allies. No Seireitei. Nothing but temporal chaos and death. And only his Hollow powers could keep him from being unmade.

He wrapped himself in a reversed membrane — a film of spiritual energy similar to the spatial barriers Oushi’s Zanpakutō, Raikū, could form. Originally developed by Aizen to protect Arrancar and Espada from spatial damage, Shuuichi now used it as armor.

Would Aizen laugh or sneer if he found out?

But inside the Dangai, Shuuichi realized — his membrane couldn’t compare to Raikū.

Oushi’s spatial constructs, once summoned, maintained themselves. His needed constant reiatsu input to remain stable. Still, it was the best Shuuichi could do with the powers available.

And he arrived just in time to see Yoshima Oushi — mangled, bleeding, missing limbs, barely conscious — and his attacker:

Gyakkotsu Saizō.

Shuuichi recognized him.

In his past life’s memories, Saizō had been one of the original Captains of the Gotei 13 — Captain of the Thirteenth Division. One of the monsters Yamamoto had tamed in the first generation. A butcher in robes.

What the hell was he doing here?

Then Shuuichi saw the sigil on his back.

A pattern.

The same sigil Shuuichi had been secretly researching for years — a secret crest said to be used by the Tsukimaya Clan to communicate with Hell itself.

It wasn’t identical to the one in his archives, but it was undeniably from the same system. And if Saizō bore that sigil...

Was it possible that Tsukimaya Sayako, Kisaragi Shūsuke, even Matsumoto Rangiku had defected? Had they given up on the Gotei after believing Shuuichi dead?

It didn’t add up. When Shuuichi returned seven years ago, Kisaragi had lent him power. If he was dead, that power must have come from the underworld. But if he were alive...

Too many puzzles. But one answer lay in front of him: capture Saizō.

While the mad former Captain bragged to Oushi about his dreams of conquest, Higashi Shuuichi aimed his finger at him.

Cero.

The membrane parted just enough. A searing beam of crimson light pierced the Dangai, slamming into Saizō, blasting him hundreds of meters back.

Oushi saw the flash. Through blurred vision and floating limbs, he recognized the figure behind the strike.

"Lord Shuuichi!"

He hadn’t expected Shuuichi to make it in time — not here, not in this forsaken rift between worlds. But somehow, he had. Because he always did.

"Can you still fight?" Shuuichi asked.

He couldn’t see Oushi’s full condition — just a single, bloodied eye. But that was enough. He could tell Oushi was on the verge of death.

Oushi’s voice was weak, ashamed. "I... I’m sorry, my lord..."

He couldn’t even lift his head. Centuries of training in the Dangai — and he couldn’t even force Saizō to use his Bankai.

A disgrace.

But Shuuichi didn’t care.

He knew Oushi’s talents were in research, not combat. Against a monster like this — a resurrected first-generation Captain — expecting anything more was madness.

And he suspected something worse — this wasn’t just Saizō. It was something more than Saizō.

Because his reiatsu felt endless.

Unyielding.

Just like that puppet version of Yamamoto from Osaka all those years ago. Like someone had plugged power into a corpse.

"You should go," Shuuichi said calmly. "Tell Mayuri what’s happened here."

He didn’t trust a word Saizō had spoken. Fighters like him used lies as weapons. Shuuichi knew — he did the same.

But if Saizō wasn’t lying... if there were more like him... if even Yamamoto’s younger clone showed up...

Seireitei wouldn’t survive.

As Oushi drifted toward the Dangai’s edge, guided by his own spatial bubble, Saizō howled.

"You’re not a Hollow... You’re a Shinigami... A Hollowfied Shinigami?!"

Shuuichi’s spiritual membrane was closing, hiding him once more.

Saizō snarled.

"You’ve met them, haven’t you? The ones who ran off to the West Bureau. Pathetic. Her Shunpo wouldn’t even qualify as footwork in my day — and you dare give her a title?"

With a swipe, Saizō invoked Gokumei: Rakukotsu — his Zanpakutō’s technique that could tear through dimensions.

Just as he had done to Oushi, he now tore a rift in Shuuichi’s membrane.

Shuuichi didn’t flinch.

"I’ve heard of that move," he said coolly. "Gokumei. Dimensional Cleave. Your signature technique. That means you really are Gyakkotsu Saizō."

He knew it from Unohana. She remembered everything about her fellow originals. She couldn’t use the technique herself — but she had studied it.

And now, so had Shuuichi.

They clashed.

In the time it took for the membrane to reform, the two had exchanged over a hundred blows inside the sealed space.

"You smell like her," Saizō said suddenly, licking his lips. "Her techniques. Her presence. You carry her shadow."

Shuuichi narrowed his eyes.

"Then watch closely. I carry many shadows."

He placed his hand on the hilt of his blade.

Ura: Nazamegiri.

With a single slash, his reiatsu collapsed into singularities — tiny voids of destruction, swallowing spirit particles by the thousands.

Saizō avoided the direct hit — but not the aftermath. His spiritual pressure was devoured by the black holes.

Yet he didn’t flinch.

He didn’t need to.

His body, like that young Yamamoto’s, was infinite.

"Die in despair! Gokumei: Aikotsu!"

White threads erupted from beneath Shuuichi’s feet. Saizō’s blade pierced the dimensional floor, tugging at invisible strings wrapped around Shuuichi’s limbs.

Limbs separated. Flesh torn.

Saizō grinned.

But in the next instant — Shuuichi’s body reformed.

He was whole.

"No," Saizō muttered. "Even a Vasto Lorde couldn’t regenerate that fast..."

His confidence cracked.

He had embedded hundreds of white threads into Shuuichi’s body — meant to annihilate it in one go.

And yet — nothing.

"High-speed regeneration? No. This is... something else."

Shuuichi’s voice echoed.

"Not regeneration. Infinite resurrection. Your technique is meaningless."

And as Saizō stared, a new membrane wrapped around him.

"What—?"

He realized too late — this wasn’t Shuuichi surrendering. This was a trap.

He tried to release Bankai.

He couldn’t.

His Zanpakutō no longer responded.

He tried to slice through the membrane — but his blade went soft. Like he was swinging cotton.

Then he heard Shuuichi’s voice.

"You haven’t met the other side of Hollowfication, have you? Today’s your lucky day. This is my Resurrección."

Crime Law.

The membrane shrank, wrapped around Saizō’s form like a second skin. Tight. Suffocating.

For the first time in a thousand years — Saizō couldn’t breathe.

"Shinigami don’t need to breathe," he told himself.

He was wrong.

The pressure — the claustrophobia — his mind began to fracture.

He twitched.

Spasmed.

Tried to move — but the suit held him still.

No air. No motion. No escape.

His brain shut down.

And Shuuichi just watched. Silent. Calm.

That had always been the plan.

He had known from the beginning — you don’t joke around with unknown enemies. Especially not ones from Hell.

He had activated Resurrección the moment he entered the Dangai.

He’d spent seven years yearning for a trip to the Royal Palace to perfect his Bankai — but he hadn’t wasted time.

He’d allied with Aizen. Tortured Gin into a work frenzy. Used the Hōgyoku.

Fused with his inner Hollow.

Learned the truth of Crime Law.

Three conditions to trigger the effect:

The enemy must be told what will kill them — weapon, method, and agent.

There must be a premeditation period — no damage can occur during that time.

The user must remain present and alive from start to finish.

If these were met, then no matter what, the target would die the way Shuuichi had planned.

He used his weapon as the "murder tool," played weak to buy time, stayed present — and waited.

Against most, it was unstoppable.

Only flaw? It worked on one target at a time.

But for Saizō?

More than enough.

Or so he thought.

Saizō’s body remained.

"Shinigami... die."

The broken shell rose. Lifeless. Hollow. Just like young Yamamoto had been — a puppet of old code.

It attacked. Gokumei: Aikotsu.

Shuuichi responded.

Bakudō 99: Kin.

Chains erupted. The body collapsed.

It posed no threat.

He picked it up.

It was time to return.

There were questions to be answered. The sigil. Sayako. The Tsukimaya.

And Yamamoto — what would he do when he found out?

Most of all...

What the hell had Kisuke Urahara done in the West Bureau with those Hollowfied Shinigami?