Chapter 265
"…I hope I may ask you for a favor."
"What's up?"
"If I lose tomorrow, I hope you'll take good care of that little brat, Yachiru."
"Don't worry."
Hearing this, it was as if some weight had been lifted off Zaraki Kenpachi's heart-or perhaps he had finally reached some understanding within himself. The silence between them was brief but heavy, carrying the exhaustion of countless battles and years gone by. He tightened his grip on his blade once again, his eyes gleaming with intense resolve as he looked across at his opponent.
"Yuta… I'm looking forward to the day when I get to fight you again."
"When we defeat Yhwach and everything's over, we'll fight again."
At this moment, the sword in Zaraki Kenpachi's hand fell. Another blade met his throat-the blade of Unohana Yachiru.
Yet in Kenpachi's heart, there was no regret.
To die under the sword of the Kenpachi he admired most was, to him, almost joyous.
"I… haven't really changed at heart," he said hoarsely. "Back then, when I fought you, I didn't have time to play those little tricks."
"So you're saying I've grown weak, right?" Zaraki's eyelids lowered slightly as his gaze lingered on Unohana Yachiru before him-or perhaps beyond her, lost somewhere deep within memory.
"I used to admire you," she replied.
"It doesn't matter whether I cut down trees or insects," he said dully. "It's boring… just swinging my sword in the dark."
"Until I fought you," Unohana answered softly, "I felt fear for the first time-and the joy of battle for the first time."
"I wanted to fight the way you did," Zaraki said. "To experience that again, but…"
"I couldn't defeat you."
"Am I… really dying here?"
Pfft-
Unohana's blade pierced Kenpachi's throat cleanly. Blood trickled down the steel, dropping onto the hilt and then her hand in slow rhythm.
Kenpachi coughed, his throat wet and heavy, and spat blood onto the ground. "Dammit…!"
Just as his consciousness began to fade, the world around him flickered-then reset.
He and Unohana once again stood facing each other, their blades locked between them, neither giving ground.
"What was that? Did I just lose consciousness?" Unohana asked evenly.
"What a joke!" Zaraki roared and shoved forward, sending her backward with one heavy swing.
He frowned. What had happened just now? He could almost feel again the sensation of being pierced through-his throat torn open-yet here he was, alive.
No time to think about it now. All that mattered was the fight before him.
Unohana's feathered hair ornament slipped free and drifted to the ground, turning slowly in the air before settling in the dust like the last petal of some fallen flower. Her eyes-dark and calm-remained focused on him.
Zaraki Kenpachi will not die, she thought. Each time he crosses the line between life and death, he grows stronger. That is his nature… and my sin.
Zaraki pushed back hard, sliding across the ground before stopping on his hands. Fingers dug deep furrows into the earth as he regained his footing, his grip firm and unmoving.
What was that again? Another moment of lost consciousness? The same sensation as before?
How many times has this happened? Losing myself… only to return again…?
It was the kind of exhilaration that only came from surrendering everything to battle-the same feeling he had known long ago.
Rukongai-hundreds of years ago.
Rain poured endlessly from the gray sky, splashing against the muddy earth of the outer districts. A woman stood in that rain, wearing the white haori marked with "11th Division" on the back. The tip of her blade dripped red with fresh blood.
"Captain!" called out one of her subordinates, running toward her through the downpour. "It's useless. No matter how far you search through Rukongai, you won't find anyone who satisfies you."
"So you guessed my intention," Unohana replied without turning around.
"Killing these Rukongai hooligans won't bring peace to Soul Society," the man said breathlessly. "Every corpse you cut down just piles that mountain higher-and with it, the Captain's dissatisfaction grows."
Unohana turned her head slightly, her eyes falling on the mountain of bodies behind her. She hadn't noticed when it had risen that high-layer upon layer of corpses stacked into the shape of some grotesque monument.
"When did that mountain appear?"
"Eh? Didn't you make that yourself, Captain?" the man asked nervously.
Before she could answer, movement drew her attention. A young boy climbed to the top of that pile of corpses, sword in hand. The weapon was chipped and jagged, its dull edge glinting in the dim light.
"Who's that kid?" someone whispered.
Without hesitation, the boy jumped down and swung his blade at Unohana Yachiru.
I had grown tired of swords and fighting.
Yet I kept searching for opponents who could give my sword meaning.
Following that call led me to wander the Rukongai endlessly… until my sword brought me to someone else-someone who had also grown weary of battle.
I had not expected that fighting that child would make me feel happiness again… but it did.
Nor did I expect that he would bind his own strength in chains because of me.
"Strike!" Unohana yelled-and Kenpachi's blade tore across her arm, spraying blood into the rain.
He no longer fought by reaction alone; instinct now carried his movements. Every time his consciousness faded and returned, he grew stronger-as if reborn anew each time.
Kenpachi Zaraki, you probably haven't realized it… but you've sealed away your own power.
During that battle long ago, we both felt joy unlike any other.
Yet the difference between us remained-you felt ecstasy at the edge of death itself. That was my sin.
Afterward, you wandered through Soul Society and found only the weak. No one could challenge you.
And I… I was the first enemy you could truly fight.
Yet I was weaker than you.
Unohana stood before Zaraki, watching as the boy's expression changed from awe to disbelief.
Weaker than himself.
Weaker than himself.
Weaker than himself.
For the first time since she was born, she had found someone who could stand as her rival.
Someone who made her believe that losing them would also be losing the joy of battle forever.
And so, to match her weakness, he unconsciously began to suppress himself-bit by bit sealing away his own strength. That knowledge filled her with despair. Despair… not for her weakness, but for the boy who had caged his own power to meet her blade.
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