Byakuya was pelted by debris as he careened through the air. He flailed, swinging the hilt of his sword, sending a torrent of Senbon Zakura's petals through the destroyed building he'd been thrown from. With any luck, the attack would do some lasting damage this time. His hopes were dashed when Mask emerged from the storm of blades like a cannonball. Just as before, his clothes were torn to shreds, but any injuries he might have received were already healed. What was this durability?

Righting himself mid flight, Byakuya dove out of Mask's path. At this rate, his only option for defeating this man was to completely destroy his body. But could Senbon Zakura even do that? In his current state, Byakuya wasn't even sure if he could sever a limb, let alone annihilate an entire person. He pulled an injured arm tight to his body and swung his sword again. He had to at least keep up returning the pressure.

A pained gasp escaped from his throat as two Reishi spikes slammed into his back, burying themselves deep inside his body. Or so it seemed. Whether or not Äs Nodt's thorns left a wound appeared to depend on the user's will. There were no holes in Byakuya's back, so the intent wasn't to maim. Still, he clenched his jaw. His teeth would be chattering otherwise.

The true danger of Äs Nodt's attacks was not the possibility of injury, nor was it the pain of being stabbed. It was the Fear.

Horrible visions filled Byakuya's vision whether his eyes were open or closed. Fears that he'd thought conquered resurfaced in ways that made him want to wail in despair. Bugs engulfed his legs, threatening to consume him from the bottom up, Lightning crashed and boomed within inches of his body, the roar of thunder made him shudder, and ragged phantoms reached out to him with decaying fingers, pleading and cursing him for some unspecified sin.

None of them were real. He knew that. These were nothing more than hallucinations brought on by the Quincy's power. They couldn't do him any harm. They aren't real! Just as Byakuya started to recover, a meaty, white-clad fist slammed into the side of his head, spiking him into the ground.

He'd have lost consciousness if not for the excruciating pain. The arm that was simply injured before was now pulverized. He couldn't even hold it to his body anymore. For a brief moment, he considered severing it. It was nothing more than dead weight at this point, after all. The Quincies didn't give him a chance to.

Mask descended right in front of Byakuya, shaking the ground with the impact of his landing. Äs Nodt emerged as well, his bottomless eyes boring through the Shinigami Captain. This was the worst position to be in. He needed to get away, but his legs wouldn't respond to his panicked desire to run. He couldn't tell if it was the Quincy's Fear that rooted him, or his own nerves.

"You're a persistent one, aren't you?" Mask laughed, planting his fists on his hips, "Very admirable! For a villain, that is." He wore a jovial smile, but that levity wasn't reflected in his eyes. "You have my respect, Captain, for putting up such a good fight against not only myself, but my comrade as well. Bravo!" He put a wide hand on Byakuya's shoulder as congratulations.

Senbon Zakura's petals took that arm, severing it at the elbow. The storm of petals continued to fall from the sky, spreading throughout the area. They shredded buildings. Stone, wood, or glass, it didn't matter. As long as those tiny blades covered his retreat, he could care less about preserving something that could be rebuilt.

He ran, trying to hold the Quincies within that cutting smokescreen. It wouldn't work, considering everything they'd pushed through so far, but he was truly out of options now. He needed something powerful to counter these opponents. Something like the techniques he'd used on Äs Nodt when they first clashed. That was impossible, though. Even focusing all of his strength on attacking Mask, he could barely manage to cut his arm off. Simply Maintaining Bankai was taking a tremendous amount of effort.

Byakuya chose the direction of his flight carefully. If he lost his wits and started moving back towards where Rukia and Renji were, they might get caught up in the fight again. That was too dangerous. He had to move away. Keep them safe.

Ravenous jaws and sickle-like claws grew from the buildings around him, threatening to eviscerate him should he get too close. He knew they weren't real. They couldn't be, but he avoided them anyway. The danger from Äs Nodt's Fear was more than the paralysis of his limbs and the muddying of his mind. They couldn't hurt him, but these hallucinations could certainly distract him, allowing one of his enemies to approach him unnoticed.

He needed help. It hurt his pride to admit, but it was true. Being indebted to one of the other Captains would be difficult to live down, but he'd manage somehow.

Fights were still raging all across the Seireitei. From where he was, Byakuya could tell that most of the Captains were still embroiled in some kind of conflict. Those that weren't were either too injured to be of use, or were incapacitated entirely. He couldn't lure the Quincies to the 4th Division barracks. That would just increase the casualties. He'd never be able to live with himself if he sacrificed his injured comrades to save his own hide. Such a course of action would not only bring him great shame, it would also very likely destroy the Kuchiki clan's reputation. As the family head, he . . .

No. The Fear was affecting him again. He had to stay focused. Captains . . . Who was available? Ōtoribashi, Zaraki, and Muguruma were the least occupied as far as he could tell, but they were the most distant. Hirako and Kurotsuchi were options, though Byakuya wasn't entirely sure how reliable they were. Could he impose on the Captain-Commander in this situation? Any of those would be fine. He just needed to make a decision.

A stabbing pain in his legs was the first sign that he hadn't put as much distance between himself and the Quincies as he thought. The second sign was the pair of boot heels driven into his shoulders from above.

Again, he plummeted to the ground. He managed to mitigate the damage somewhat; his arm wasn't any more broken, at least, but standing was a struggle. Several deep puncture wounds made his footing uneasy.

He wouldn't be running anymore.

"Please refrain from messing around anymore, Mask. We have a job to do." Äs Nodt's scratchy voice approached from behind. It sent shivers up Byakuya's spine.

Mask laughed as if he were having the time of his life, "Oh lighten up, Äs! His Majesty never said anything about having a little fun, did he? Heroes should have fun while the villains despair!"

Byakuya almost wanted to laugh himself. So he was the villain here? If that was the case, then he shouldn't have to worry about using whatever underhanded tricks he could muster. The problem, then, was his utter lack of strength. What could he possibly do now, beaten and exhausted as he was?

What would a villain do in this situation?

"That being said," Mask cracked his knuckles and turned to Byakuya, "you make a good point, Äs. The longer you let a villain like him live, the more likely he is to pull some shenanigans out of nowhere. So, without further ado, I will administer the finishing blow!"

It was a struggle just to stay upright, but Byakuya held his ground. He couldn't afford to direct any of his focus away from the enemies in front of him, even to breathe. The crunch of Mask's boots on the pavement rang loud in his ears, and the surroundings faded into darkness. The only thing that existed was the man in front of him. And the beyond.

Mask raised his arm, fist clenched and ready, and triggered the trap. As many petals as Byakuya could muster burst from the surrounding rubble. He recklessly directed them through his safe zone, throwing care for his own well being out the window entirely. The surging torrent slammed into Mask with enough force to hold him back. Just enough. The masked Quincy wasn't the target of this attack.

A villain wouldn't face the enemy right in front of him, he'd strike at the bystanders and supporters. Thousands of blades engulfed a satisfyingly wide eyed Äs Nodt. If he could take down one of them, then maybe he could hold on a little longer. If he could just weaken them a little, he could get away and recover. He could feel his petals cutting and slicing. They were doing damage. It was working!

Äs Nodt casually stepped out of the storm of blades. He was completely unscathed. As if responding to Byakuya's sinking stomach, he reached up and removed the mask covering his nose and mouth. What lay beneath was monstrous. A beastly jaw with jagged, malformed teeth. Black slime oozed down his chin and flames licked at the air from within vacant eye sockets. He was cackling, a noise like scraping metal overpowering every other sound.

Byakuya pushed harder. He couldn't afford to believe the things he was seeing. It was just the Fear. His mind was being manipulated. That horrific vision wasn't real. If he could only eliminate the source of his fear . . .

A large hand reached out of the storm of petals and gripped Byakuya by the neck, lifting him off the ground.

"I take back what I said before, Captain." There was a dangerous glint in Mask's eyes. Between the tears in his mask and the absence of any sort of smile, it was clear that he was no longer having fun. "A villain who lashes out in desperation instead of accepting defeat is nothing more than a coward. You deserve no respect whatsoever." He flung the Shinigami like a piece of garbage, burying him in a wall.

Byakuya's shoulders slumped. If he weren't stuck in the wall, he'd have collapsed. He could barely breathe, the simple action of expanding his lungs taking more energy than he had left.

This was it, then. Nothing short of a miracle could save him now. Even if the Quincies left him alone, he'd surely die on his own. But considering the fight he put up, he doubted they'd do that. They'd want to take revenge for giving them so much grief. For some reason, he was proud of himself for doing that much, at least.

To fall so far that he had to take pride in running away . . . death certainly was cruel.

The pain pulsing throughout his entire body almost muted the stabbing pain of Äs Nodt's thorns slamming into his gut. Almost. He wasn't sure when they stopped-he began to lose feeling soon after the assault began-but eventually the sensation ended. It was replaced by a rapidly spreading coldness, starting in his abdomen and quickly taking his legs.

He felt his pulse weakening as darkness crashed in from the edges of his vision. He couldn't see anymore, nor could he hear. The taste of blood was gone, as was the pain. Only the cold and the weakening sensation of his heartbeat remained. It was over. Byakuya prepared the last vestiges of his rational mind for the end.

He was scared. And it wasn't the effect of Äs Nodt's ability this time. All the years he'd lived, the strength that he had attained . . . did any of it really matter in the end? He'd always taken the life span of spirit beings for granted. Death always seemed a far-off problem. It was never more than an uncomfortable hypothetical, really, but now it was enveloping him and all he could do was think about how he never thought it would happen.

Byakuya's mind raced in a desperate bid to escape reality. He pleaded to anybody and raged when nobody responded. He hoped for that miracle that might save him, and despaired at the foolishness of the notion. There had to be something he could grasp. Something that could keep his consciousness intact even as his body failed. His mind worked furiously. The cold was creeping up his neck now.

In his final moments, as his heart gave out and thought became hazy, he landed on his last true hope: Rukia and Renji would live. Those two were his future. They would be the inheritors of his will, he was sure. He believed he had managed to take the Quincies far enough away. He believed they were not fatally wounded. He believed they would recover and help drive back the Quincy threat. He believed.

Until his consciousness faded away entirely, he believed.

+ Shift +

"Goodness, that looks like it hurts! Are you going to be alright, Äs?" Mask leaned over his bloody comrade. The concern in his voice was at least half genuine.

"That depends," the shaky reply came, "is that damn Shinigami dead?" Äs Nodt, to his credit, managed to push himself to his knees, but couldn't go any further without help.

Mask easily lifted the wispy Quincy to his feet and laughed, "Seems so! And good riddance! He was starting to get on my nerves. You feel the same, don't you, Äs?"

Äs grunted what was likely affirmation. Well, it was more of a gurgle. Those tiny blades really did a number on the guy. Blood was seeping out of cuts all over his body, and his face was in particularly bad shape. It would be no surprise if Mask had to pick him up and carry him back to the fortress.

Hopefully he could last until they were at least half way there. Mask was in pretty bad shape himself, after all. The thought of confronting that Shinigami when he was uninjured and fresh for battle made Mask clench his jaw.

"What's the matter, Äs? Did you catch a cold? You're trembling like crazy!" Mask laughed, joking partially to cover his own shakiness.

He could barely make out Äs Nodt's mumbled reply, "I'll kill them all myself. If I have to. Save the world. Salvation. For His Majesty. All for his Majesty. They will fear me. Fear. Fear me." His dark eyes rolled like a panicked animal's. He didn't seem to be fully conscious anymore.

Mask shrugged uncomfortably, but he felt the same in some ways. He wasn't big on the 'fear' idea, but serving His Majesty was something any self respecting Quincy could get behind.

He laughed, dragging his bloody comrade behind him. The conversation would be sorely lacking, but as long as Äs kept ranting like that, their trek back would at least be interesting.

+ break +

A thousand years.

That's how long it had been since he'd last seen this sky. If only he could have returned under better circumstances. Wishful thinking. As long as the corruption of the Balance faction-no, they called themselves Shinigami now-persisted, there was no other way than this. They wouldn't see reason, so force was necessary.

Yhwach strode down the fetid streets of the so-called 'Soul Society' considering the state of the battle. To call it a disaster would be just short of optimistic. The core Quincy forces easily matched those of the Shinigami in terms of both numbers and strength on their own. With Jugo distributing power among the ranks, they should have overtaken the enemy in every aspect.

And yet they were evenly matched. Disturbingly so.

Casualties were to be expected. But for there to be so many of them was more than troubling. The Quincy forces didn't need to win, though, just occupy the Shinigami forces long enough for Yhwach to complete his objective. To that end, he'd deployed every Sternritter that hadn't been incapacitated by transporting the Wandenreich into the walls of the Seireitei. But still, they fell. His elite force, raised specifically to counter the monstrous Shinigami Captains, were being defeated far too quickly. If only more than a few of the stronger Sternritter could have been able to fight after the move.

More wishful thinking. There were more important things to focus on. "Jugo, where is the Ishida boy?"

"I'm not entirely sure, Your Majesty. I seem to have lost track of him somehow." Jugo followed close behind, looking troubled. He'd invested more than enough of his power into Ishida Uryu to be able to keep track of his presence individually. "I am sorry, Your Majesty, but I fear he has been captured."

Yhwach kept his eyes forward. "Do not waste time worrying over it. Our goal has not changed."

"As you say," he said, quickening his steps to match Yhwach's pace, but Jugo wouldn't let it go that easily. He could be too committed to carrying out the tasks he'd been given at times.

Having the Ishida boy seek out Ukitake Jūshirō was merely a contingency from the start, so it was nothing to lament. As long as they found the Captain of the 13th Division and captured him, they could still grasp victory.

"Stay focused, Jugo. The enemy is still ignorant to our objective, so we have the upper hand. One or two foiled plans won't stop us."

"Yes, Your Majesty." That was more like it. Even someone as motivated as Jugo needed a push every so often. "We must take advantage of their ignorance and strike before Yamamoto makes his move."

That was true, to a point. Yamamoto was without a doubt the greatest threat, but that wasn't to say there weren't other roadblocks that could halt their progress. Most of the Special War Potentials were confirmed to be occupied, but there were still others that they hadn't yet managed to lock down. The one called Kenpachi, for example, was nearly as great a threat as Yamamoto himself. That devil woman devastated a good portion of his forces all on her own a thousand years earlier.

The Head Priest would be an equally inconvenient interloper, but so long as they could end the conflict before it escalated, he should have no reason to get involved.

"Your Majesty!" Jugo rushed ahead, drawing his blade. And for good reason. An unbelievably powerful spiritual pressure, barreling towards them, raised his hackles, and Yhwach's as well. It wasn't Yamamoto, or the Kenpachi, or the Head Priest, but whoever it was possessed a power significant enough that they could not afford to take it lightly. "I know it is early, but I'm going to take back my power. Please go ahead while I occupy this threat."

Yhwach grabbed Jugo's shoulder and squeezed. He really was too loyal at times. "Don't get ahead of yourself, Jugo. Our forces need that power. Taking it back now would only doom them and end our plans."

"I'm not sure I can hold this person off without it, Your Majesty."

"Not alone, perhaps." Yhwach stepped up, unsheathing his own sword, "We will fight together."

"No! If you get caught up in some random encounter here, the Shinigami will be able to sense your presence. It would be in our best interests for you to stay hidden." Jugo's sword hand trembled and his eyebrows were tightly knit. He was trying desperately not to snap at his king, and only partially succeeding.

"Just as our forces need your power, I need you, Jugo. One or two failed plans won't stop us, but if the foundation itself falls out from under us, there will be no way for us to recover. You are as important to our plan as I am. So I will fight alongside you, and together we will find Ukitake." With one last squeeze, Yhwach released Jugo's shoulder. The younger man would shudder at the thought, for certain, but in circumstances such as these, they couldn't afford to maintain a master-servant dynamic. They needed to support each other as equals or fall.

Jugo held his tongue. He disagreed, of course, but that powerful enemy was almost upon them. When it arrived, Yhwach felt a lump form in his stomach.

The Shinigami was tall, and muscular without being bulky. His wild, unkempt hair matched the menacing look in his eyes. His spiritual pressure was so intense that Yhwach felt it weighing him down in a way he hadn't felt in a thousand years. Of all of the miscalculations and blunders the Quincies had faced, not identifying this man was the worst thus far.

Yhwach met the monster Shinigami's eyes and held there. He would not back down from any enemy. Not when he had finally acquired the means to save the world. In his periphery he could see bodies, he realized. Was this threat so great that it blinded him to all but the immediate danger?

There were three of them, two balanced on his shoulder and one hanging from his grip. They were Sternritter. Yhwach clenched his jaw. His ignorance had caused this. Shaz, Lloyd, Berenice, forgive me. I will not allow your deaths to go unavenged. But first . . .

"I would know your name before lopping off your impudent head. Speak, Shinigami!"

"My name?" The monster Shinigami laughed. "Who cares about that? These three didn't, that's for sure." He reached up with his free hand and pulled one of the corpses from his shoulder. "This one just ran up to me and tried to talk my ears off." He dropped Berenice's body like so much trash and grabbed the other body. "This guy wouldn't die no matter how many times I killed him. So I killed him over and over until he stopped coming back to life. Didn't say a word to me."

"This guy though?" He raised up the body in his other hand, "He was real interesting. Turned into me. It was like I was actually fighting myself. He was probably the most fun I've had in ages." With the same irreverent nonchalance the Shinigami dropped Shaz and Lloyd. He stepped on them as if they were the same as the stones paving the road. "You're the leader of these guys, aren't you?"

"That's correct," Yhwach replied, holding out a hand to settle Jugo down, "I am Yhwach, the Quincy king. Now, tell me your name, or else you will die anonymous." This was dangerous. He held Jugo back, but he this man's boasting put him on the verge of lashing out himself.

"Well then, Quincy king, I hope you're stronger than your lackeys because I'm your opponent. Captain of Division 11, Zaraki Kenpachi."

+ Break +

Yamamoto Genryūsai closed his eyes on the destruction spreading throughout the Seireitei. The scale of the conflict was such that he had no need to see. He could feel the ebb and flow of fighting in his bones. It made his blood boil.

"Try the Tenteikūra again," He said, suppressing an irritated sigh. The officers behind him set to work immediately, drawing out the appropriate symbols and reciting the incantation. Yamamoto didn't need to see to know that the technique failed. It hadn't succeeded once since the invasion began and there was little chance it would suddenly start to work now, but nobody could say he didn't try.

The Quincies had discovered a way to disrupt the Kidō spell, somehow rendering its incantation inert or intercepting the flow of power to make the technique useless. The loss of the Tenteikūra-just one technique-was devastating. It completely dismantled Yamamoto's plan from the ground up.

"Forget it," Yamamoto waved his hand, dismissing the officers. At this point, restoring the Tenteikūra wouldn't shift the battle in one direction or another. With every wave of Reishi that reached the barracks, he could feel the conflict balancing out. That was concerning.

The enemy's force was enormous. The number of soldiers that flooded from that eyesore of a fortress was nothing to laugh at. But even so, the Shinigami forces dwarfed the Quincies'. It should have been an easy victory, but now the scales were evening out.

If it weren't for the Captains of the Gotei 13, this little war would have ended as an embarrassing farce. Against equally powerful enemies, the Shinigami Captains were more than holding their own. They were overcoming the disadvantage of being caught off guard and thinning out the enemy elite one by one. Even in the few cases in which they were losing, they were managing to escape with their lives.

It was difficult to decide whether he should be hopeful or dismayed by this trade off, but Yamamoto was certain that if things continued as they were, it would be the Shinigami who came up short.

Already one Lieutenant was dead. Another two were incapacitated. A fourth was isolated and in peril. Two Captains were taken out of the fight without bringing their opponents down with them. Two others managed to emerge victorious, with the rest engaged in battle or otherwise occupied. It was a volatile situation that could turn sour at the drop of a hat.

Another wave of Reishi brought new information. The balance had shifted once again, but this time the Shinigami gained ground. Ōtoribashi was cutting down Quincies with ruthless efficiency, Unohana was discharging patients as quickly as they could be brought to the 4th Division, Shunsui's fight was winding down, and Zaraki was engaged with . . . someone. That was an odd feeling. It was like his senses were being blinded to whoever it was the Kenpachi was fighting.

If only he could have nearby communications officers scout out the scene. An ability that masked one's presence so complexly was of real concern. He'd have to grill the 11th Division's Captain after the fighting was over to-

A void opened up in Yamamoto's awareness of the Seireitei. Even between waves of Reishi it was too catastrophic a change not to register. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Captain Kuchiki Byakuya's Reiatsu was gone. A hopeful spark inside of him wanted to believe that the Captain's presence was just being hidden, like that mysterious enemy's, but the reality was too apparent to delude himself. There was no telling how many powerful assets the enemy had at their disposal; the Shinigami Captains were a limited resource that could not be easily replenished.

There was no time to mourn.

Yamamoto stepped out of the 1st Division barracks and into the sky above the Seireitei and let his power surge out over the battlefield.

+ Shift +

Lieutenant Hisagi Shūhei desperately gasped for breath. A cloud of dust almost made him choke, and chunks of stone stabbed into his back and sides. How many times had he lost consciousness now? The number had to be high; his whole body ached as if he'd been driven through hundreds of walls.

He pushed himself up, ignoring the disconcerting numbness in the ends of his limbs. The chains of his Zanpakuto slid from his arms, chest, and from around his neck. One of these times, he thought, this thing is going to strangle me. He rocked onto wobbly legs and collected the sprawled length of this sword. In that, at least, he had no trouble.

"You're something else, you know that? Are you more resilient than most Lieutenants, or was that guy from the 1st just weaker?" The Quincy that had been pummeling Shūhei-for what felt like hours at this point-laughed. His voice was like a rumbling thunderstorm. Lightning flashed in his glassy, hungry eyes.

Shūhei spat, partially to get rid of the blood pooling in his mouth, and partially to expel the foul taste facing this man gave him. This was the man that killed Lieutenant Sasakibe, or so he claimed. It was hard not to doubt a story like that, but his boasts were backed up by an incredible power that made Shūhei want to flee for his life.

And boy did he want to. A man could only be thrown through buildings so long before he started to fear for his own well-being. Even so, he couldn't let this bloodthirsty Quincy go. He needed to hold him off until reinforcements could arrive.

The thing was, he wasn't sure if could hold an enemy of this caliber by himself. He didn't want to die, but he didn't have any choice other than standing up and taking a beating over and over. If only his luck could hold out just a little longer.

A blazing power flooded over him for mere seconds before the Captain-Commander touched down. Shūhei felt like crying, but even if he did, his tears probably would have dried up before touching his cheeks. Yamamoto's presence sucked the moisture out of everything around him, the people as much as the air.

The pressure from the Quincy's intense gaze vanished as he directed his attention to the Captain-Commander. "Now this is a treat! To think that I would be fortunate enough to come face to face with the big man himself!" He said, excitement bringing the volume of his voice high enough to shatter glass. "Let me guess, you want to take revenge on me for killing your precious Lieutenant. Is that right? How sweet!" If arrogance sounded like anything, it would sound like this man's earth-rattling laugh.

Yamamoto barely glanced at the braggart, instead focusing on Shūhei, "Are you alright, Lieutenant Hisagi?" Despite the oppressive power radiating from him, the Captain-Commander sounded genuinely concerned. The impression of a kindly grandfather came through strong. If only the expression on his face didn't make Shūhei's heart stop.

"Y-yes sir . . ." It was all he could do to get those words out. Absently, he added a shallow nod, but Yamamoto was already turning away. He was facing the Quincy.

The urge to run away surged stronger than ever. Yamamoto had been furious when Aizen Sōsuke threatened the Soul Society a couple of years ago, but this was on another level. More than even his absurd power, Yamamoto's rage was suffocating. And he was about to take that rage out just a short distance from where Shūhei stood.

Why did his legs choose now to stop working?

"Want to know how I managed to kill that Lieutenant of yours? I promise it's a fun story." The Quincy ran his meaty fingers through the cluster of tight curls on his head. Yamamoto fixed him with a deadly glare, but he kept going anyway. "I've got this power, see? It's a power that makes me stronger the more I kill. Doesn't matter if it's a Shinigami, a human, a Hollow, or a bug. I get a boost for every life I snuff out. So, all I had to do was gobble up a bunch of those souls living out in the boonies, and presto! I was a hot knife and your buddy was butter!" The Quincy was laughing so hard that he didn't see Yamamoto raise his sword.

In the split second before the blinding bright flames forced his eyes shut, Shūhei saw the Quincy's body burn away. Ryūjin Jakka's fire disintegrated skin, muscle, and finally, bone in an instant. The aftermath of the attack was so intense that Shūhei's skin tingled with the onset of a light burn. Just from being nearby. The Captains were monster, but the Captain-Commander was in a league of his own.

"Lieutenant Hisagi," before Shūhei could even open his eyes Yamamoto spoke to him, "Since you are uninjured, go assist some of your struggling comrades. We do not have time to waste standing around." And with that, he left. He was just gone. How could someone that old be so fast?

Impassable gaps aside, the Captain-Commander was right. Shūhei wasn't sure how he was in anything resembling good shape, but he shouldn't squander that good fortune. He needed to do what he could to help.

Maybe if his luck was really strong, he could run into Captain Muguruma. That would be a relief.