From this moment onward, Uehara Shiroha could wield the Enrakyōten in his left hand and Shinken Hakkyōken in his right.
Control first—strike later. Instant death. Even gods would shake their heads in despair upon witnessing such a sight.
Even the almighty Soul King Yhwach had tried it and found it formidable, admitting it could send him into an eternal slumber—a sleep he would never wake up from.
And if that wasn't enough? Then add Zanka no Tachi, Shigarami, Ichimonji…
Moreover, Unlimited Blade Works wasn't limited to copying the Zanpakutō of the Shinigami. It could also replicate the unique weapons used in the Fullbring Technique, among countless others.
He wasn't just a shinigami—he was a walking armory, a true master of weapons, wielding an arsenal of divine blades, each carrying unparalleled abilities.
At this moment, even Gilgamesh's King's Treasure paled in comparison, reduced to sobbing in a corner.
This was not just power.
This was invincibility.
The past twenty years had not been in vain.
A Test of Power
Having obtained such a powerful ability, Uehara Shiroha was eager to test it out. If it weren't utterly inhumane, he would have loved nothing more than to bully White and Zangetsu once again, savoring the thrill of complete domination.
But after seeing Ichigo Kurosaki, his body drenched in sweat, his face pale and trembling from exhaustion, he decided to let him go for now.
After all, he wasn't a demon.
Sure, his moral compass was a bit skewed, but he wouldn't go as far as to drain a high school student dry on their first encounter.
Of course, the main reason he decided to stop was because—under the influence of the Mind Stone—defeating White and Zangetsu felt as effortless as swatting away a fly. A single punch each, and they'd crumple like ragdolls.
Where was the challenge in that?
This was not enough to fully demonstrate the overwhelming power of Unlimited Blade Works.
If there was no suitable opponent at the moment…
Then he would fight himself.
Inside the training space, countless shadow clones of Uehara Shiroha surrounded him. Each one mimicked his stance, weapons drawn, their cold eyes locked onto him.
A smirk played on his lips.
"Time to see what I can really do."
With a flick of his wrist, he unleashed a barrage of Zanpakutō abilities:
"Shatter, Kyōka Suigetsu!"
"Sit upon the frozen heavens, Hyorinmaru!"
"Shoot to kill, Shinsō!"
"Scatter, Senbonzakura!"
"Howl, Zabimaru!"
"The Flowery Winds Become Disturbed, The God Of Flowers Sings, The Heavenly Winds Become Disturbed, The Devil Of Heaven Sneers , Katen Kyōkotsu!"
A whirlwind of Shikai abilities erupted, flooding the battlefield.
Flashes of steel.
Explosions of spiritual energy.
Clones were ripped apart in seconds, unable to withstand the sheer onslaught of power.
This was just the entry-level ability of Unlimited Blade Works, and it was already this powerful.
Even though it could currently only replicate Shikai, that alone was enough to overwhelm captain-level opponents.
After all, in many cases, some Shikai abilities were far deadlier than Bankai. And when combined?
They became utterly unstoppable.
The sheer variety of attacks—blades slashing, elements colliding, reality-distorting effects activating—made it impossible for enemies to react in time.
Any opponent faced with this arsenal would experience something truly terrifying:
Mental overload.
The human brain could only process so much information at once.
Facing dozens of different abilities at the same time, each requiring different countermeasures, was enough to cause an opponent to freeze up on the spot.
And this was only the beginning.
This was just the EX-level Infinite Blade System at its lowest proficiency.
Even at this stage, he could annihilate captains who had fought for over a thousand years.
Once his proficiency increased even slightly?
He would be capable of taking on transcendent beings.
And at the Perfect Level?
Even Pseudo-Soul King level beings would tremble before him.
Once he reached the absolute peak—Perfect Level EX—even Soul King Yhwach himself would have to break into a sweat just by seeing him.
This was true power.
This was what it meant to be alone at the top.
Unrivaled. Unmatched. Utterly invincible.
After returning to the Court Army base, Shiroha celebrated his newfound power with Michibane, enjoying the moment.
A few days later, however, new schemes began to unfold.
Aizen Sosuke and Urahara Kisuke launched a series of thrilling strategic battles revolving around the Hōgyoku.
Their minds played a silent war, each move calculated, each strategy layered upon another, a clash of intellects on a scale that shook the Three Realms.
Only a handful of individuals could keep up with their deadly chess match.
Uehara Shiroha was one of them.
Compared to those two, he was just as exhausted—but for entirely different reasons.
While Aizen and Urahara burned through their brain cells strategizing, Uehara Shiroha spent his time hosting grand banquets in the pleasure district.
At this point, he had single-handedly raised the prestige of Flower Street's courtesans.
His taste in beauty had grown so refined that ordinary women could no longer catch his eye.
As a result, a group of beautiful women dedicated themselves to self-improvement, ensuring they remained worthy of his presence.
They trained not only in beauty, but also in art, music, chess, poetry, and painting, refining their skills to an elite level just to earn a moment of his attention.
In Flower Street, a Geisha unrecognized by Uehara Shiroha was a Geisha who couldn't survive.
Simply put…
Wherever he went— except for himself, everyone else would perish.
After several days of revelry, Uehara Shiroha finally set his focus back on battle.
By now, he had reached the Mastery Level of Unlimited Blade Works.
At this point, every increase in proficiency meant his power would double.
Sitting in his room, he extended his hands.
In his right hand, he grasped Hollow energy.
In his left, a Shinigami's spiritual weapon gleamed with brilliance.
A terrifying dual power balance.
On the surface, it looked like he had completely transcended the boundaries of race.
But deep inside…
He was still a pure-blooded Shinigami.
This was the true dominance of Unlimited Blade Works.
And now, with the Mind Stone enhancing his abilities, his power had reached a level where—
Even the original wielders of these techniques…
Might not be able to surpass him.
This was the true essence of perfection.
Although the power of White Hollow and the might of Pure Blood Quincy were formidable, they were still far behind the overwhelming force of Unlimited Blade Works and the Mind Stone.
Because of this, Uehara Shiroha could perfectly replicate Ichigo Kurosaki's power—down to the finest details.
This was the true manifestation of:
"Your ability is good… but now it's mine."
On the other hand, Ichigo himself was still struggling to perfectly integrate his own power. The conflicting forces of Shinigami, Hollow, Quincy, and Fullbring constantly clashed within him, making it difficult for him to harmonize his strengths.
Meanwhile, Uehara Shiroha had already reached a level where he could grasp the essence of these abilities effortlessly.
And as luck would have it…
This time, he had managed to hit the jackpot—extracting tremendous power from Ichigo Kurosaki.
It was unexpected, almost like finding a legendary treasure drop in a game.
He could only sigh.
It seemed that Aizen and Urahara had truly raised Ichigo well.
However, unlike Aizen, Urahara, the Monk, and Yhwach—who obsessed over Ichigo's growth, monitoring his every move like creepy stalkers—Uehara Shiroha had no interest in treating Ichigo like a long-term investment.
Ichigo Kurosaki's power was merely an enhancement for him—something useful but not the ultimate goal.
He could take what he needed, but he wasn't going to waste time coveting it endlessly.
After all, his real strength didn't come from Ichigo.
It came from the Task System, the Unlimited Blade Works, and various powerful artifacts he had collected along the way.
And now, his main focus would be on further developing the EX-Level Infinite Sword System.
If just the "Skilled" level was already this powerful…
Then what about the "Perfect" level?
And what about the Ultimate Mastery?
If daily task attribute points weren't enough to enhance his proficiency, then he would simply use shadow clones to increase his mastery through sheer repetition.
With his powerful abilities, Image Hall's support, the knowledge of a traverser, and an unrestrained imagination, he could push Unlimited Blade Works to its very limits.
"From now on… I will stand in the sky."
Uehara Shiroha wasn't just saying this.
He would prove it.
At this moment, inside the luxurious office of the Court Army, Kyōraku Shunsui was sitting across from Uehara Shiroha, wearing an expression of utter grievance.
His lips twitched as he stared at Shiroha with resentment.
"I think… Old Man Yamamoto has changed," Kyōraku muttered with a sigh.
"In your words, I'm no longer his most beloved girl."
He crossed his arms, his usually relaxed demeanor showing signs of deep frustration.
"Why is it that every time something goes wrong, I'm the one getting scolded?"
Over the past few days, he and Uehara Shiroha had been indulging in the pleasures of the red-light district together.
Drinking, partying, and basking in luxury—completely undefeated.
The nights had been wild, the entertainment top-tier, and the company of beautiful courtesans had been endless.
But there was just one small problem.
Their spending was astronomical.
They spent money like water—no, like a damn waterfall.
And while Shiroha Uehara had a habit of throwing money around extravagantly, the real issue was…
Kyōraku Shunsui was footing the bill.
Technically speaking, all of it was charged to either the First Division or the Eighth Division's funds.
Every time Old Man Yamamoto saw the outrageous expenses, his face would turn as red as a volcanic eruption, and he would unleash his fury on Kyōraku.
Every. Single. Time.
"Is this even fair?" Kyōraku groaned, rubbing his temples.
"All I did was spend a little bit of money, yet I get all the blame."
Uehara Shiroha gave him a thumbs-up, his expression completely shameless.
"This is called: 'The more capable you are, the more work you have to do!'"
He chuckled.
"Besides, who else but you could convince Old Man Yamamoto to approve such ridiculous spending?"
The entire Soul Society knew:
Brother Kyōraku was generous. Brother Kyōraku was loyal.
And more importantly—Brother Kyōraku had the face of a true scam artist.
Of course, Shiroha conveniently left out the fact that Kyōraku was nothing more than his scapegoat.
The reality was, the Gotei 13, the noble clans, and the red-light district were all locked in a financial war.
Other men spent hard-earned money in the red-light district, trying desperately to win favor from courtesans with real gold.
Meanwhile, Uehara Shiroha spent other people's money.
The Gotei 13 and the noble families paid for him.
He simply moved his fingers, and courtesans—who normally held themselves in high regard—would rush to him with dazzling smiles.
And after being showered in his attention, the red-light district would give him massive kickbacks and advertising fees.
At the end of the day, Uehara Shiroha had found a way to make money while enjoying himself.
The more he spent, the richer he became.
A perfectly infinite cycle.
"After all," Kyōraku finally sighed in surrender, "I am a little older than you. It's only natural that I take on a bit more responsibility, right?"
However, after a pause, his expression turned serious.
"That being said, I have never seen Old Man Yamamoto pay this much attention to someone before."
His gaze flickered towards Uehara Shiroha.
"His actions are different from the past… almost like he's seriously considering retirement."
The room fell into silence.
Kyōraku Shunsui observed Uehara Shiroha's reaction carefully.
"Right now, all he lacks is a suitable successor."
A Rejection Without Hesitation
Uehara Shiroha leaned back, clicking his tongue.
"Old Man Yamamoto is just getting soft-hearted in his old age."
He crossed his arms.
"Do you really think he can't lift his blade anymore?"
It was true. Yamamoto Genryūsai had changed.
He had become more righteous, more sentimental—no longer the ruthless warlord he had once been.
At the same time, Yhwach had also changed, transforming into an even colder, more ruthless emperor of the Wandenreich.
It was ironic—both of them had become what they once despised.
However, even if Yamamoto had softened, no one dared to stand against Ryūjin Jakka.
For now, he was still the pillar of Soul Society. It was not yet time for his retirement.
Kyōraku Shunsui's words were clear:
He wanted Uehara Shiroha to inherit the title of Captain-Commander of Gotei 13.
But Uehara Shiroha's response was immediate.
"Not a chance."
Kyōraku sighed, shaking his head.
"It's a shame," he admitted.
"No one else is more suited for the role than you."
But Uehara Shiroha didn't care.
Captain-Commander of the Gotei 13?
Not even a damn dog would want that job.
With a smirk, he shrugged.
"That may be true…"
"But I refuse."
As he spoke, Uehara Shiroha raised his small wine glass and took a leisurely sip. His eyes flickered with amusement as he glanced at Kyōraku Shunsui.
"Actually, you probably have another reason for coming here today, don't you?"
Kyōraku Shunsui's behavior was too unusual. The old man Yamamoto was still sharp as ever in battle, so there was no reason for Shunsui to be this anxious. If someone didn't know better, they might even think he was plotting a coup.
It seemed the Captain of the 8th Division had picked up on something significant.
As expected of an old silver fox, his instincts were razor-sharp.
Kyōraku sighed heavily, setting down his own drink.
"Brother Shiroha, you know… I've always had this nagging suspicion that someone is secretly plotting against the Gotei 13—someone pulling the strings from the shadows, waiting for the right moment to strike."
Uehara Shiroha's expression remained calm, but his mind sharpened.
Kyōraku continued, his tone growing serious.
"The Hollowfication incident—it was just one part of a much bigger plan. And I know for a fact that Urahara Kisuke wasn't the true mastermind behind it."
He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice.
"Think about it. Twenty years ago, the former Captain of the 10th Division, Shiba Isshin, mysteriously vanished. His disappearance only confirmed my suspicions that something larger was at play."
Kyōraku exhaled, his brows furrowed in frustration.
"And that's why I feel… that Old Man Yamamoto has changed."
If it had been the Yamamoto of the past, even a small suspicion would have led him to strike preemptively, crushing all threats before they could take root.
But now?
For the sake of so-called 'balance,' the old man had chosen to remain silent—turning a blind eye to things he would have mercilessly eradicated in the past.
It wasn't necessarily a bad thing.
But it had sown the seeds of disaster.
Uehara Shiroha narrowed his eyes slightly.
"So, you already have a suspect in mind, don't you?"
He could hear the unspoken meaning behind Kyōraku's words.
In fact, he already knew exactly who Shunsui was referring to.
However, there was one undeniable truth in all of this—Kyōraku was absolutely right about one thing.
If this had been the old Yamamoto, whether the suspect was truly guilty or not, the answer would have been simple:
"Ola!"—kill first, ask questions later.
But now, even though Yamamoto had clearly sensed something was wrong, he still prioritized stability and diplomacy.
Uehara Shiroha had long suspected that the old man tolerated him precisely because he was willing to do the things Yamamoto couldn't afford to do—such as ruthlessly dealing with corrupt nobles when necessary.
Kyōraku nodded solemnly.
"I do have a suspect."
His voice dropped to a whisper, barely above a breath.
"According to my investigation… the Tsunayashiro family has been conducting taboo experiments in secret. Experiments that involve… Hollowfication."
Uehara Shiroha raised an eyebrow.
"Oh?"
Kyōraku's expression darkened.
"Not only that… but they've also perfected the technology of Hollowfication manipulation."
He took a deep breath before speaking the name.
"And the only person in the Tsunayashiro family with the ability to Hollowfy multiple Captain-level Shinigami is… Tsunayashiro Tokinada."
Over the years, Kyōraku Shunsui had frequently clashed with the Tsunayashiro family—not because of politics but because he couldn't stand the atrocities they committed behind closed doors.
And Tsunayashiro Tokinada…
Was the worst of them all.
He was a pure-blooded lunatic. A disease upon Soul Society itself.
A man so arrogant and twisted that he treated life itself as nothing more than an amusing game.
Uehara Shiroha stroked his chin in thought.
"That's a reasonable assumption," he admitted. "But if I recall correctly… wasn't Tsunayashiro Tokinada imprisoned? He shouldn't be a threat anymore, right?"
Technically speaking, Tokinada was currently working under the Court Army, exhausted from relentless overwork.
He was practically the 'employee of the month'—a man buried under paperwork who barely had time to eat or sleep.
But…
His usefulness had reached its limit.
It was about time to get rid of him.
In a way, this was his final service to Soul Society.
A glorious contribution before his inevitable demise.
A perfect ending, worth celebrating.
Kyōraku Shunsui frowned, concern flickering in his eyes.
"That guy has been able to move freely for quite some time now," he muttered.
"But officially, he still can't appear in public."
He let out a sigh.
"And soon, he'll be released from prison completely. Once that happens, he'll regain full freedom."
His eyes sharpened.
"I'm worried that once that bastard is fully unleashed, his conspiracies will escalate to an even more dangerous level."
He gave Uehara Shiroha a meaningful look.
"And you, my friend… have always refused the Tsunayashiro family's attempts to recruit you."
His fingers tapped against the table.
"That means… they don't see you in a favorable light."
His expression darkened.
"And now that they control the Central 46, they can and will use 'justice' as a weapon to eliminate you."
He sighed again, rubbing his temples.
"These corrupt rules… they're nothing but a poison eating away at Soul Society."
Uehara Shiroha smirked, his expression unbothered.
"Relax."
He let out a low chuckle.
"Rules? Rules are nothing more than words written on paper."
He leaned forward slightly, his eyes gleaming with amusement.
"And people?"
His grin widened.
"If people die… then the rules become meaningless."
He nearly burst out laughing, his expression one of pure glee.
What "Central 46"?
They had long since become 'Central 46 corpses.'
When Kuchiki Rukia's spiritual pressure completely disappeared in the human world, Aizen had used the opportunity to wipe out every last member of the Central 46—just for the fun of it.
In Aizen's mind, it was almost like popping open a bottle of champagne.
It was hilarious.
Kyōraku Shunsui visibly paled.
"You…" He hesitated, then sighed. "You better not be planning something crazy."
His voice wavered slightly.
"That monk… even though he seems easygoing, he does not care about our lives."
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