Comrades, Grip What You Hold

"Gaahhh—aaaaaaahhh!!!"

A piercing, blood-curdling scream.

Just hearing it was enough to make one's hair stand on end.

Everyone present instinctively turned toward the source of the sound—

And there, in the corner, a grotesque white serpent-like Hollow had sunk its fangs into the supervising instructor.

Its head alone was the size of an elephant.

Perhaps because it had launched a sneak attack, the instructor's meager swordsmanship skills failed to offer any resistance.

In just a brief moment of hesitation, his right arm—blade still in hand—was torn off entirely.

The gaping wound was like a wild dog's rotten maw, revealing pale flesh beneath, before being drowned in a flood of crimson.

Screams of agony mixed with the metallic scent of blood filled the air.

Staggering backward, drenched in cold sweat, the instructor weakly flailed his remaining hand.

"D-Don't come near me…! No… noooooo!!!"

But unfortunately—

If begging worked, Hollows would never have earned their reputation as monsters.

The massive jaws lunged forward, devouring the upper half of the instructor's body whole.

Crunch!

A sickening crack echoed through the air.

What remained—a pair of severed legs, soaked in blood—fell limply to the ground.

Only then did the other trainees snap out of their daze.

"Sensei!!!"

Hisagi Shūhei's reaction was the most immediate.

His eyes widened in horror as he roared out in shock.

The situation had spiraled out of control.

This unexpected Hollow attack had completely thrown their training exercise into chaos.

But—

It wasn't beyond saving.

There were still three other instructors present.

And including himself, there were four upperclassmen providing support.

If it was just a single Hollow, they could still manage—

But before Hisagi's thoughts could fully settle—

More screams erupted around them.

"Two more Hollows! On the west side!"

"South—one more, but it's… ahh!!!"

The numbers far exceeded expectations.

Counterattacking was impossible.

At this point—there was only one option.

Retreat!

"Shūhei! What do we do?!"

"The instructors are dead! That makes us the oldest ones here!"

"Think of something—you're the one with the brains, aren't you?!"

Hisagi's comrades—his closest friends—looked at him in desperation.

The other three upperclassmen were skilled fighters, their strengths undeniable.

They were among the few remaining reliable combatants.

"We… we…"

His mind was racing, but his throat locked up.

His breath hitched—he couldn't get a single coherent word out.

His nerves were pushed beyond their limit—his body was reacting to the sheer terror.

"Snap out of it!"

Slap!

A sharp, stinging smack echoed.

The female upperclassman beside him bit her lip and struck him hard across the face.

His mind cleared instantly.

"Thanks!"

No time to waste.

Hisagi snapped his head up, drawing his blade as he shouted,

"Gather all survivors—form ranks! We retreat in formation!"

"Shigemi! Contact Seireitei—request reinforcements immediately!"

"As for the rest of you—"

Whoosh!

His Asauchi sliced through the air, its keen edge singing as it cut.

Hisagi's gaze sharpened, his voice carrying a commanding force.

"—Stand with me on the front lines!"

Even as panic threatened to consume him, Hisagi chose to take responsibility.

As an upperclassman, as a future Gotei 13 soldier—

He would lead.

"OOOOOOOOOHHH!!!"

His first strike landed clean.

His blade cleaved straight through the nearest Hollow's mask.

The pale white shell cracked, splintering apart in an explosion of bone fragments.

For a brief moment, Hisagi's expression showed surprise.

This thing was much weaker than he expected—

Wait. No—

This Hollow had been hiding its spiritual pressure!

It wasn't a fatal blow, but it hurt the beast enough to make it screech in pain.

Its grotesque body twisted violently, its deformed claws swiping toward him.

Razor-sharp talons—if they connected, he'd be torn apart!

And in that fleeting instant—

"Hadō #31—Shakkahō!"

A sharp, clear chant.

A crimson blaze erupted, striking the Hollow dead-on.

The force of the blast sent it reeling backward.

Still catching his breath, Hisagi turned his head—

Not far away, Hinamori Momo stood with her hands still outstretched, her face pale with tension.

"S-Senpai… Are you okay?"

Hisagi didn't answer immediately.

Instead, he glanced toward the other side of the battlefield.

Renji and Izuru were already locked in combat with the advancing Hollows.

Their techniques were raw, unrefined—but their courage was undeniable.

Together, they had managed to slow the enemy's advance.

The chaos of the battlefield was beginning to stabilize.

—Opportunity favors the prepared.

A simple truth, one that held in any situation.

They were doing well—damn well.

"I'm fine…!"

Hisagi straightened up, roaring with renewed determination.

"Everyone, regroup!"

His voice was a rallying cry.

His body ached, his hands trembled—

But he couldn't afford to stop.

"Shigemi! Have you contacted them?!"

His tone was harsh, but there was no helping it—

Holding out was only a temporary measure.

Their survival depended on reinforcements from Seireitei.

Shigemi, sweating profusely, had just finished casting her Kido communication spell.

"Contact established! Seireitei has issued an emergency response!"

That was good news.

But the next words shattered their brief moment of hope—

"Even the nearest squad—following Hell Butterfly guidance through the Dangai—"

Shigemi hesitated.

As if she, herself, couldn't bear to say it.

Finally, her voice trembled.

"—The fastest they can arrive is at least ten minutes from now!"

Ten minutes.

Under normal circumstances, that was barely an afterthought.

But here—

It was a countdown to death.

The Hollows surrounding them were closing in.

The lingering bloodstains on their masks and claws told a chilling story—

The souls they had devoured had been utterly erased.

Only the crimson smears on their bodies remained, proof of their merciless consumption.

'Ghhrr…'

They didn't speak.

But they growled—like beasts circling prey.

Their hollow bodies drifted effortlessly in the air, closing in step by step.

Not fast, not sudden.

But each step felt heavier than the last.

The sheer pressure suffocated the air around them.

Sweat dripped from Hisagi's hands.

He clenched his blade tighter.

His entire body trembled.

Fear? Excitement? It was impossible to tell.

But either way—there was no turning back.

"Sniff…"

A quiet sob.

Then—

A desperate, broken wail.

"No… we… We can't win!"

Just moments ago, these same students had been joking and laughing.

Now—many were little more than frightened prey.

The weight of despair crushed their spirits.

One of the trainees let go of his Asauchi.

The blade slipped from his trembling fingers, clattering uselessly to the ground.

Even as Renji barked at them, there was no response.

Vacant, hollow eyes.

Some wept. Others simply froze in place, their wills shattered.

This was only natural.

Graduating from the Academy was one thing.

But becoming a real Gotei 13 soldier—someone willing to risk their life—

That was something very few could do.

Fighting required resolve.

Survival required will.

Without them—

There was nothing.

"You bastards—!"

Renji was ready to yell again—

But Izuru stopped him, gripping his sleeve.

"Let it go, Renji."

Izuru's voice was unsteady.

Yet, somehow, he still sounded detached.

"Those without resolve… have no right to hold a blade."

Renji stared at him.

Then—without a word—he simply tightened his grip on his sword.

I have resolve.

"I will fight.*"

"I'll handle Kido support!"

Hinamori spoke firmly, her voice unwavering.

Morale was low.

Someone had to hold them together.

Renji forced a grin.

"Oh? Now that's reassuring."

He turned, meeting Hisagi's gaze.

"Senpai—your swordplay's sharp."

Hisagi exhaled.

He should've ignored the comment.

But at this point—why bother?

"If you want to learn, I'll teach you."

"Looking forward to it!"

'Ghhhhrraaa!!!'

The Hollows lunged.

This was it.

Some cried in despair.

But some—

Some still had fight in them.

"Giving up now—"

"Wouldn't that be far too hasty?"

A voice cut through the battlefield.

A figure appeared before them.

Tall, slender, but commanding.

The Fifth Division's insignia shone proudly on his back.

"Stand up."

Seiya's voice was calm—yet it carried undeniable weight.

"Comrades, grip what you hold."

"This is your path. This is your duty."

"This—"

"—is your battle to survive."

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Powerstones?

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