Chapter 72: Baraggan, Your Head Fell Off

Baraggan swung his giant axe with savage glee, his eye sockets burning with madness, envisioning the Shinigami cleaved in two.

Yamabuki Haruto, seemingly frozen, drew his Zanpakutō and slashed upward. “An ant shaking a tree?” Baraggan sneered. “Still fighting?”

Space shattered like glass. Baraggan’s axe split, its wheel-sized blade halved. His arms and a third of his skull followed, severed clean. He hadn’t felt the cut until they hit the sand.

“What did you do?” Baraggan roared, his Vasto Lorde regeneration kicking in. Given time, he’d heal.

Haruto stood, his Zanpakutō now a silver-white saber glowing with eerie light. “Reverse, Silver Angel!” His clothes shifted—not the era’s samurai garb but a pristine white military uniform. “Good thing it’s not a skirt,” he quipped. “I’d be a magical girl, shaming my ancestors.”

He lunged, thrusting Silver Angel at Baraggan. The Skeleton Emperor dodged with Sonido, bellowing to his horde, “All of you, tear him apart!”

The Hollows surged like a tide. “Brother Yamabuki!” Sasakibe Chōjirō reached for Enyōmaru, but Kazenami Haru stopped him. “We’d only get in the way. Watch.”

Haruto gripped his saber with both hands, swinging horizontally. Space warped within ten meters, then vanished—Silver Angel’s second ability: spatial excision. The charging Hollows disappeared with the space, their fates unknown. Those at the edge wailed, severed limbs littering the sand. The rest froze, terrified.

“Useless!” Baraggan roared. “Charge!”

“King of Hueco Mundo, this is your last day!” Haruto stepped forward, slashing. “Spatial Slice!” Baraggan shielded himself with his remaining arm, but nothing happened. Haruto grinned. “Oops, out of reiatsu! Gotta go!” He bolted.

Silver Angel’s power was immense, but its reiatsu cost was brutal. Haruto understood why his spirit withheld her name until he reached captain-level—Vice-Captain reiatsu would’ve been drained in one swing. She’d protected him, not tricked him.

“I’m touched! What are you two gawking at? Run!” Haruto waved at Chōjirō and Haru, who scrambled to follow.

“You think I’d fear you without reiatsu?” Baraggan’s body regenerated, his half-broken axe swinging as he charged.

“You believed that? Brainless!” Haruto spun. “Spatial Excision!” Baraggan dodged frantically, fearing a fatal cut. Haruto laughed. “Kidding! I’m really out. Bakudō #21: Sekienton!” Crimson smoke flooded the field, obscuring everything.

Baraggan, fooled repeatedly, roared, “Chase him! Whoever kills this Shinigami becomes my adjutant!”

As the smoke cleared, the Hollows scattered. A hand emerged from thin air, tearing space. “Bakudō #26: Kyokkō.” Haruto stepped out, grinning. Same old trick.

“Brother Yamabuki, your uniform’s awesome!” Chōjirō said, eyeing his own unchanged clothes. “Why doesn’t mine change?”

“Practice more,” Haruto replied. “How long until the Senkaimon?”

“Fifty-five minutes,” Haru answered.

“Then we hold out.” Haruto devoured Hueco Mundo’s reishi, restoring his reiatsu. He’d thought his reishi absorption made him a mobile turret, but Silver Angel’s consumption shattered that. I’m no turret—I’m a berserker. Two swings drained his captain-level reiatsu. Restoring it fully took twenty minutes, too slow for combat. How do I fix this?