Things were quiet. Both the captains, the lieutenants, and the other Souls Reapers remained quiet as they casually marched forward.
Then suddenly, one-by-one, they began collapsing. Only two remained standing: Tōshirō and Retsu.
Panick struck their faces. Had an enemy attacked? If so, from where?
Almost immediately after, a graceful figure softly descended. First, the tip of his shoes landed before his entire soles touched the grass. Words couldn't describe how elegant in nature he was.
He was tranquil; he was devoid of any emotion; he was Silas Wren.
"It's been a minute, Retsu... Tōshirō…" The two captains looked at one another, both likely asking themselves who Silas was. Before either of them could say anything, he said in a cool tone, "You two don't look any different than when we last met."
Not only had Silas known who they were, but he also had the bold nerve to address them casually. The two ominously stared at him, who was wearing an unbuttoned white dress shirt at the top and black jeans. He looked as if there had never been a scratch or mark on him since birth!
Who was he?
"Which question are you asking yourselves first?" Silas wondered. "Who am I, or why can't you feel my spiritual pressure?"
An alarm was raised in both of their heads. Never in history had they come across a person whose spiritual pressure they couldn't sense. Not even Retsu, who'd been around for more than a thousand years, could believe what she was seeing.
In a worried tone, she urged, "Captain Hitsugaya, draw your sword!"
He followed her command as she did the same. Were they honestly so apprehensive they'd dare to draw their sword against someone they knew nothing about? Silas found their behaviour intriguing.
"Why so tense?" he said.
"How can we not be?" Tōshirō answered, remaining stern. "All our men were knocked at, and you're the only one in the area. Are we wrong to believe you're not responsible?"
Silas understood why he was one of the youngest to graduate from the Soul Reaper Academy in less time than most graduates.
The grasslands shimmered in the fading light, and the serenity of the scene was a deceptive veil for the battle that was about to unfold. It had been a long time since Silas had fought someone. More so, he'd never battled a single character after acquiring the Hōgyoku.
This was the perfect time to test his might and see how overwhelming of a force he truly was.
Flashes of spirit particles gradually faded in and out of Silas's person. Placing his hand forward, the wind circulated around the space between his palms, forming a stellar blade with a magnificent hilt. This was his new Zangetsu.
It had taken on a new form, radiating with the cosmic aura shrouding him.
"The two of you," he said, resting the weapon on his shoulders. "Defeating me is inconceivable, but I urge you... Come at me with everything you've got. Don't hold back. And if possible, I would prefer neither of you die so easily."
Retsu's eyes held both anticipation and a flicker of apprehension, while Tōshirō showed a hint of unease. They knew this wasn't a game, but a clash with a force they could barely comprehend.
Retsu made the first move; her attack was not one of aggression but precision. A series of calculated strikes aimed to test Silas's response, yet Silas was unreadable. He swayed, not dodged—each movement more graceful than the last.
A slash to his left shoulder was evaded with a simple turn, and a horizontal swing was missed by a quick shift. She couldn't land a hit!
Tōshirō followed, having already released his Shikai. A tempest of ice was unleashed from Hyōrinmaru. "Guncho Tsurara!" Silas recognized the technique, but to think the young captain could use it outside of his Bankai.
Several ice spears hurtled towards him, with Retsu leaping out of the way. Inches from reaching him, they splintered into millions of harmless crystals. It was as if an invisible barrier had deflected the attack. Yet Silas hadn't even lifted Zangetsu!
"Hmph… You call that a Zanpakuto?" he mocked.
A silence descended, broken only by Retsu's soft chuckle. "Perhaps we've underestimated you, whoever you are." Her words were laced with a newfound edge. "Swim, Minazuki…"
Retsu's blade melted before turning into a slurry of green flesh. The substance then shot to the sky, forming a giant creature that resembled a manta ray.
This was the first time Silas had seen her use her Shikai in combat.
Minazuki descended on him. However, before it could strike, he simply vanished. Retsu's eyes widened momentarily, a flash of confusion crossing her usually composed features. Her and Tōshirō swiveled, Minazuki thrashing to the ground.
There, he stood atop it, a slight tilt to his head as if observing the creature with mild curiosity.
"Your Minazuki is impressive," he said. "It's made out of petroleum used to heal others."
Retsu's mind raced. This wasn't mere evasion. He had read her intent, anticipating her purpose for releasing Minazuki in the first place: to heal Tōshirō without losing her offensive capabilities.
A chill ran down her spine as she saw him kneel down to touch the creature. Before he could, she called it back to her hilt. Then, a pause.
The way Silas had been dodging her earlier and the way he complimented her Shikai. It held an unsettling familiarity, like a muscle memory from a forgotten duel. Had they faced each other before?
The strangeness of the thought was fleeting, replaced by the urgency of the moment.
Tōshirō, his pride momentarily overridden by necessity, raised his spiritual pressure. "Bankai!" Retsu urged him to stop, but it was too late.
Ice surged from his weapon, a torrent of white that enveloped him. His sword transformed, its star-shaped hilt blossoming into an intricate eight-pointed snowflake. Ice wreathed his right arm, a spectral dragon's head snapping into existence around his hand.
Massive, frozen wings erupted from his back, and his left arm, encased by the shoulder, ended in ice claws. His very feet mirrored the transformation, talons glinting where his toes once rested. To see it in person was one of the record books. "Daiguren Hyōrinmaru."
Without waiting, an ice dragon spiraled towards his weapon, its icy breath freezing the very air. Then, Silas appeared beside him, a single, outstretched hand resting on Hyōrinmaru's blade!
The ice ceased its relentless flow, and the dragon stopped in its tracks. Silas's voice was quiet, almost reflective of the icy aura.
"You're not nearly as good as I thought you'd be."