The battle between Uehara Shiroha and Kyōraku Shunsui had inevitably spread throughout the Soul Society.
Even among the highest-ranking Shinigami, the sheer scale of the fight had sent shockwaves through the ranks. The three captains—Unohana Retsu, Yamamoto Genryūsai, and Ukitake Jūshirō—were all astonished by the display of power.
They understood just how formidable Kyōraku Shunsui was.
More importantly, they knew that Katen Kyōkotsu's Shikai alone was more complex and dangerous than the Bankai of some captains. The fact that Shunsui had taken the battle so seriously was a testament to just how powerful Uehara Shiroha had become.
It was undeniable—Shiroha's strength had surpassed that of ordinary captains.
In less than a century, he had reached a level that had taken them thousands of years to attain.
This was pure, raw talent.
A level of talent so overwhelming that it left no room for argument.
It was terrifying.
Ukitake Jūshirō smiled in admiration, genuinely happy for his old friend's protégé.
Yamamoto, the aged and battle-hardened Commander-Comannder, allowed himself a rare moment of relief. If this was the level of strength the Gotei 13 had at its disposal, then the future of the Soul Society was far more secure than he had dared to hope.
And Unohana Retsu—normally composed and enigmatic—couldn't help but feel a flicker of excitement.
Meanwhile, in the shadows, another group was silently reevaluating their perceptions of Uehara Shiroha.
Aizen Sōsuke, Tōsen Kaname, and Ichimaru Gin had long been aware of his talent.
Yet, even they found themselves unsettled by just how rapidly he was growing in power.
It was almost surreal.
In such a short period, Uehara Shiroha had taken another leap forward, surpassing even their previous estimations.
Isshin Shiba and Sajin Komamura, on the other hand, weren't ones for deep contemplation. They merely marveled at the sheer power displayed, acknowledging that the two combatants were on an entirely different level.
Byakuya Kuchiki, standing amidst the murmurs of the court, silently tightened his grip on Senbonzakura. His usually composed expression became even more unreadable. Without a word, he turned and resumed his rigorous training, intent on refining his swordsmanship further.
But the one who reacted most violently was Zaraki Kenpachi.
His crimson eyes burned with an insatiable battle lust.
For years, he had repeatedly sought out Uehara Shiroha for duels, hoping for a real fight—one that could push him to his limits.
But every single time, it had ended in disappointment.
And now, upon hearing that Shiroha had fought Kyōraku Shunsui, Zaraki lost what little patience he had left.
With a single swipe of his blade, he demolished several walls in his way, tearing through the Seireitei like a rampaging beast in his mad rush to the battlefield.
Unfortunately…
The Yachiru Navigation System remained as unreliable as ever.
By the time he arrived, the fight had already ended.
There was nothing left to do except unleash his frustration on the training grounds, reducing several iron pillars to rubble.
Meanwhile, in the shadows…
Haschwalth observed from afar, his golden eyes narrowed in contemplation.
Uehara Shiroha had grown even stronger.
The rate at which his power was increasing was deeply concerning. Unlike some of the more arrogant Sternritter, Haschwalth never underestimated potential threats.
And Uehara Shiroha was quickly becoming the greatest threat.
Originally, he had believed that His Majesty would awaken early, rendering people like Shiroha insignificant—mere ants before the almighty Yhwach.
But now…
The strange sense of unease he had felt a year ago—one that he had initially dismissed—was beginning to make more sense.
It was clear that this unease had nothing to do with Yhwach's revival.
For now, the only thing he could do was continue gathering intelligence on Uehara Shiroha.
He could only hope—hope—that there was a ceiling to his growth.
Because if Shiroha's strength continued to increase at this terrifying pace…
Then one day, he would become their greatest nightmare.
A few days later, the news of Uehara Shiroha's victory over Kyōraku Shunsui spread like wildfire throughout the Soul Society.
As expected, certain noble factions attempted to exploit this information, whispering rumors meant to sow discord between the two men.
The intention was clear—to destroy the friendship between Shiroha and Shunsui, to turn allies into rivals.
But Aizen Sōsuke merely watched the proceedings with mild amusement.
Such petty schemes were meaningless.
They would accomplish nothing.
The ordinary captains and vice-captains, however, found themselves once again shocked by the sheer magnitude of Uehara Shiroha's strength.
Kyōraku Shunsui was not just any captain—he was a millennium-old shinigami, the personal disciple of the Captain-Comannder himself.
His strength was beyond comprehension.
Yet, even he had been defeated.
At this point, there was no longer any room for debate—Uehara Shiroha was, without question, the strongest prodigy the Shinigami had ever seen.
Within the Court Guard Divisions, morale skyrocketed.
Having such a leader brought a renewed sense of security and unity among the ranks. The belief in their future was reinforced—so long as Uehara Shiroha stood with them, they felt invincible.
But while many celebrated, one man seethed in silent agony.
Tsunayashiro Tokinada was not taking it well.
He had already been on edge from his previous dealings with "Otsutsuki Naruto", and now this?
If his room had any decent furniture left, he would have smashed something to vent his fury.
But there was nothing.
Because "Otsutsuki Naruto" had already taken everything.
While the Soul Society was abuzz with discussions and speculation, Shiroha himself remained completely indifferent to the commotion.
Having now mastered the highest level of Observation Haki, he had shifted his focus elsewhere—refining his Zanjutsu and Hakuda.
If he wanted to elevate these two disciplines to the level of the ancient millennium captains, then he had to dedicate himself to training with even greater intensity.
His goal was clear.
He wanted to surpass even Aizen Sōsuke.
He wanted to become a hexagonal Shinigami—one without weaknesses, a warrior who excelled in all forms of combat.
As for the petty disturbances and whispers spreading throughout the Seireitei?
He paid them no mind.
Every day, he simply continued living as he pleased—eating, drinking, and indulging in whatever amusement caught his fancy.
Time flew by, and before long, another year had passed.
In the luxurious office of the Court Army, Uehara Shiroha sat at his desk, signing off on the backlog of important documents. As he finished the last one, he leaned back slightly, letting out a contented sigh.
Ise Nanao, standing behind him, gently pressed her delicate hands against his shoulders, beginning a meticulous massage. Her touch was soft yet precise, as if she had memorized every pressure point on his body.
As she continued, her voice was calm but serious.
"There's been an issue in Hueco Mundo. Our technicians have detected spiritual pressure fluctuations that exceed normal levels."
She paused momentarily before adding, "Per your previous orders, no ordinary soldiers were dispatched to handle the situation. The decision on how to proceed is yours, Commander."
Unlike in the past, Ise Nanao now carried a strong sense of belonging to the Court Army. She was proud to be part of this force, believing wholeheartedly in the improvements it had brought to the world.
In her eyes, the Court Army had solved problems that the Gotei 13 had long neglected.
And for that reason, she followed Uehara Shiroha's commands with unwavering loyalty.
Uehara Shiroha raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
"The area where our base is located is on the outskirts of Hueco Mundo… And there are still fools willing to throw their lives away?"
He found it amusing.
More importantly, he found it odd.
His relationship with Aizen Sōsuke had always been one of mutual understanding.
They had an unspoken agreement—Uehara Shiroha would not interfere with Aizen's grand plans, and in return, Aizen would refrain from creating unnecessary trouble for him.
They were both intelligent individuals, after all.
So who, exactly, was arrogant enough to challenge him?
After considering the situation for a moment, Uehara Shiroha came to a conclusion.
"It's probably because I haven't made a move in a while. Some people must be feeling bold again."
A faint smirk played on his lips.
"In that case, I'll go there myself."
Ise Nanao immediately grew concerned. "Commander, be careful of traps!"
She had absolute confidence in his strength. However, Hueco Mundo was an unpredictable battlefield.
The Hollows possessed bizarre and unpredictable abilities—abilities that could turn the tide of battle if underestimated.
But Uehara Shiroha merely chuckled. His voice was calm, yet absolute.
"Any trap in front of me is meaningless."
Within the entire Bleach universe, there were only a handful of beings who could even be considered a threat to him.
And even among them, some were busy scheming in the shadows, while others had yet to awaken from their slumber.
He had nothing to fear.
If anything, he was simply curious to see which fools had decided to target him.
Hueco Mundo – Court Army Base
The sky above Hueco Mundo remained as dark and desolate as ever, the eternal moon casting its cold glow over the barren sands.
At the Court Army's outpost, Uehara Shiroha stepped through the Senkaimon and onto the scene.
The moment he arrived, the stationed technicians straightened up and saluted.
"Greetings, Comannder!"
Without wasting time, Uehara Shiroha spoke.
"Is the spiritual pressure anomaly still ongoing?"
One of the lead technicians quickly responded.
"Commander, the fluctuations are still present—and they're growing stronger. However, the location has remained unchanged."
Uehara Shiroha nodded.
That was enough.
Without another word, he activated Shunpo, his figure vanishing as he rushed toward the epicenter of the disturbance.
As he neared the designated coordinates, he felt it—a powerful surge of spiritual energy in the distance.
Two of the signatures rivaled high-tier Adjuchas or even Vasto Lorde-level Hollows. The rest were nothing more than fodder—weak, scattered energies that hardly warranted concern.
Still, something was off.
Using his perfected Observation Haki, Uehara Shiroha expanded his senses.
The area where these Hollows resided carried an ominous presence—murderous intent intertwined with an eerie, foreign energy.
No signs of life could be felt within the anomaly, indicating the presence of a specialized barrier or some other construct.
It was obvious—this was a trap.
But against him?
A cold glint flashed in Uehara Shiroha's eyes.
"You dare set a trap for me with such insignificant tricks?"
He felt insulted.
Without hesitation, he surged forward at full speed, his figure becoming a blur as he raced toward the source of the disturbance.
Moments later, he arrived.
The battlefield lay before him, and as expected—he was immediately surrounded.
A group of Hollows emerged from behind the sand dunes, encircling him like a pack of predators.
Despite their humanoid forms, remnants of their Hollow origins remained—jagged claws, bone-plated armor, and grotesque mask fragments.
They were not true Arrancar.
Rather, they were imperfect hybrids.
The cold wind howled through the desert, stirring up dust and sand as Uehara Shiroha stood still, facing the horde.
Despite being vastly outnumbered, his lone figure radiated an overwhelming sense of dominance.
At the forefront of the group, two figures stood out.
Both wore white windbreakers over their forms, twin blades resting at their waists.
Their reiatsu was strong—far stronger than the rest of the fodder gathered here.
One of them, a man with a broken bone mask covering the right half of his face, stepped forward. A bold "6" was etched across his chest.
The moment his gaze fell upon Uehara Shiroha, his lips curled into a smirk of disdain.
With an almost mocking tone, he turned to his companion.
"Paid, are you sure this is the guy?"
His voice dripped with skepticism.
"This little runt doesn't look strong at all. Are we really supposed to believe he's worth the effort of having two Espada deal with him?"
The other figure, marked with the number "4", replied calmly.
"Neros, don't underestimate him."
His voice was steady, calculating.
"Master Szayelaporro gave us specific orders. This Shinigami is different from the usual trash we deal with. We must approach with caution."
Neros snorted, clearly unconvinced.
"Fine, fine. Whatever you say."
Then, turning his full attention to Uehara Shiroha, he finally introduced himself.
"I am Espada No. 6—Neros. And this guy here is Espada No. 4—Paid."
His smirk widened.
"Regardless of whether you're the Uehara Shiroha we've been looking for or not—it doesn't matter."
His hand tightened around the hilt of his sword.
"You die here."
"Because the two Espada standing before you… are the strongest in all of Hueco Mundo!"
For a moment, silence filled the air.
Then, Uehara Shiroha tilted his head slightly, his gaze sharp yet uninterested.
With a calm, almost bored tone, he finally spoke.
"If you're cannon fodder, you should refrain from boasting."
His expression remained impassive as he stared them down.
"No matter how fierce your words are… it doesn't change the fact that you're weak."
These two Arrancar—Neros and Paid—were nothing more than substitutes.
Aizen had used them as experimental subjects, disposable pawns meant to serve as temporary stand-ins for the yet-to-be-perfected Espada. They were mere stepping stones—fodder to be tested, discarded, and replaced.
Compared to the true Espada that would later emerge, these two were insignificant.
And even those Espada who had shined in the original story?
In Uehara Shiroha's eyes, they were still nothing but garbage.
So what did that make these two fakes standing before him?
"Looking for death!"
With an enraged roar, Neros lunged forward, his massive fist swinging straight toward Uehara Shiroha with crushing force.
Shiroha, however, remained completely still.
He didn't flinch.
He didn't even blink.
Seeing this, Neros grinned in delight.
"He's not dodging? This bastard is dead!"
But before his strike could land, his companion, Paid, suddenly widened his eyes in horror.
"Neros! Get out of the way!"
He moved instantly, his body vanishing as he used Sonído in a desperate attempt to intervene.
But Neros didn't understand.
Why should he retreat?
Hadn't he already won?
His fist, brimming with destructive force, connected directly with Uehara Shiroha's torso.
BOOM!
A deafening impact shook the air.
And yet—
Nothing happened.
Uehara Shiroha didn't move an inch.
Neros froze, his brain struggling to process what had just occurred.
Meanwhile, Uehara Shiroha, still calm and unfazed, slowly slid his blade back into its sheath.
At the same time, he casually extended his arm and punched Paid away with effortless ease.
It wasn't until that moment that Neros realized—
"Wait… When did he even draw his sword?"
He hadn't seen it.
He hadn't felt it.
His confusion deepened. His mind screamed for an answer—
And then his body collapsed.
A long, deep wound suddenly tore open across his chest, and blood erupted like a fountain.
His vision blurred. His strength drained from his limbs.
As he lay dying, his final thoughts drifted back to Szayelaporro Granz's words.
"So… it was true. This Shinigami… is really… a monster…"
His lips trembled as he forced out his final regret.
"Lord Aizen… I'm sorry…"
And with that, the Sixth Espada—no, the fake Sixth Espada—ceased to exist.
The moment Neros fell, the lesser Arrancar erupted into sheer panic.
"Lord Neros!"
"Impossible! He took down an Espada with just one strike?!"
"What kind of monster is this?!"
The air was filled with chaotic cries of disbelief.
But Uehara Shiroha simply snorted coldly.
"Shut up."
A wave of invisible, icy spiritual pressure burst forth from his body.
Instantly, the small group of Arrancar froze—literally.
One by one, their bodies crystallized, turning into frozen statues before they could even react.
A moment later—CRACK!
The frozen figures shattered into nothingness.
These Arrancar had been carefully selected by Paid and Neros—among the non-Espada, they were considered elite.
But before Uehara Shiroha's sheer dominance, they weren't even worth a second glance.
The battlefield, once teeming with arrogant Hollow warriors, was now reduced to silence.
Only one remained.
Paid stood alone, panting heavily, his entire body trembling.
He was still in shock.
Staring at Uehara Shiroha, a mixture of fear and disbelief swirled in his expression.
His right arm hung limply at his side—twisted at an unnatural angle, blood dripping from his fingertips, staining the white sands of Hueco Mundo.
His breathing was shallow. His body felt as if it were being crushed under an unbearable weight.
This wasn't just pressure—this was something beyond mere power.
It was absolute suppression.
A terrifying realization hit him.
"This isn't a fight… This is a one-sided slaughter."
If it hadn't been for his reflexes kicking in at the last possible moment—reacting within one-ten-thousandth of a second to block the attack—he would already be dead.
With a trembling voice, he muttered, "I've never seen Lord Szayelaporro pay so much attention to someone before. I knew you were strong, but…"
He gulped, sweat dripping down his face.
"I didn't think you'd be this strong."
His fingers twitched slightly as he tried to muster any remaining strength.
And then, in a quiet, desperate whisper, he asked:
"Who… are you?"
Uehara Shiroha stared at him for a moment before exhaling in boredom.
With a casual tone, he answered,
"I am a Shinigami."
"A Shinigami who has come to reap your lives."
His voice was calm, almost indifferent—because to him, that was all this was.
He glanced at Paid's battered form and shook his head.
Another disappointment.
After a full year of intensive training, his Zanjutsu and Hakuda had reached the level of the ancient millennium captains.
His mastery of Shunpo and Kido had also neared its peak.
At this point—
There was almost nothing left for him to improve within the Shinigami race.
And as a result, these so-called Espada weren't even worth his effort.
One sword.
One punch.
That was all it took.
"The current Espada… are really watered down."
Paid gritted his teeth. He was already losing too much blood.
He was going to die.
But if he was going down, he'd take this bastard with him.
With a sudden burst of willpower, he smeared his own blood onto his left palm.
Gathering every last ounce of his reiatsu, he aimed at Uehara Shiroha.
"Gran Rey Cero!"
A vast crimson energy wave erupted, engulfing everything in its path.
The sheer force distorted space itself, sending violent tremors rippling through Hueco Mundo's endless sands.
Watching the devastation unfold, Paid exhaled in relief.
"This technique is restricted within Las Noches because of its destructive power."
"No matter how strong he is, he can't survive this!"
However—
His danger senses suddenly screamed.
A cold chill ran down his spine.
A split-second later, a flash of light cut straight through his Gran Rey Cero.
SLASH!
In an instant, the enormous energy wave was split in half, shattering like glass.
Paid barely had time to react before a sharp pain tore through his torso.
His body jerked violently as blood sprayed into the air.
He had been cut down.
His Hierro—useless.
His Cero—shattered.
His Espada title—meaningless.
As he collapsed, struggling for breath, realization dawned upon him.
"The attack came from my right… I was completely fooled."
He laughed bitterly.
"I… lost completely."
His vision blurred.
This wasn't just defeat.
This was utter destruction.
The last thing he felt—
Was the same feeling he had when he first met Aizen Sōsuke.
The feeling of facing something far, far beyond his understanding.
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