The scenery stretched and blurred by speed.
Aside from the wind, Yoruichi could hear almost nothing. She adapted quickly and called a friendly reminder to the one holding her.
"No one's on our tail. You can put us down!"
"It's fine. This weight is nothing."
"As a girl I should be flattered—but the other person you're holding is about to faint from embarrassment."
"Miss Yoruichi!"
They finally stopped on the roof of a grand hall with flying eaves and carved brackets.
Orihime exhaled in relief, then looked at the black-haired young man before her with delighted eyes.
"It really was Shigū-kun! I didn't see your face, but I remembered your reiatsu, so I held back and didn't resist."
"But you didn't hold back the blushing, did you?"
"That was just the speed—forced all the blood into my face!"
"Let's go with that… Anyway, thanks. By the way—your shunpo's not bad. You're nearly at my level. You'd be great in Stealth Force. The current Second Captain didn't recruit you?"
"They did. But after today, the 'recruitment' might become an 'arrest.' And we're here to bail you out anyway. Same side—no need for thanks. We each get what we need."
Praise from the "Goddess of Flash" didn't make Shigū smug.
"Same side, huh…" Yoruichi seemed to get something.
Orihime didn't catch any subtext; she was drawn to Kenpachi's raging reiatsu.
"Shigū-kun said 'we'… so Kurosaki-kun is here too? That captain who hacks while cackling is scary. Will Kurosaki-kun be okay?"
"Kenpachi isn't an ordinary person. We'd better look," Yoruichi said, solemn.
"If both chase us, we run. If only one, we cripple them… We agreed on that. Kenpachi's strong—but to Brother Kurosaki, it doesn't matter who it is."
Shigū could feel that wild surge too, and pictured a demonic, grinning face.
But—
No need.
Because he was facing an even more unreasonable monster.
"Since even his ally says so, I won't interfere. Where to next? Or rather—what's the plan?"
For some reason Yoruichi accepted that readily.
"Execution is at noon tomorrow. First we hide near Sōkyoku, then strike the gallows together… Crude plan, but no need to complicate it. In the end, it's solved by force."
"Fair point… I've got a secret base at Sōkyoku Hill. We'll hole up there."
"Good idea… By the way, one of your allies is missing. No need to worry?"
"Hm? You mean Kisuke. I could feel his reiatsu before. Just now it vanished. But he's tough and lucky—always slips the noose."
"I see. Same type as Brother Kurosaki? That is reassuring."
Watching the two chat like long-time partners, Orihime blinked, a bit dazed.
"…Let's go. These two days wore me out. There's a hot spring at the base—perfect for me and Inoue to relax."
"On the eve of war, you've got leisure," Shigū said.
"Don't say that—precisely because it's the eve, we should shed stress and go in light Veteran's tip—try it, it works"
"That sounds familiar… Fine. If it helps, we'll take it. Brother Kurosaki won't finish quickly anyway—proper talk can wait."
"Speaking of tips, I'm quite curious about your teacher's instruction. If you don't mind, tell me later… Inoue, keep up!"
"Okay!"
They set it, chattering, and moved out again.
Orihime nodded automatically, ran a few steps—then realized—
Wait.
Hot spring?
Relax? Together? With Shigū-kun?!
…
In Seireitei, the buildings were vast. Against them even Kenpachi looked like an ant.
"Where'd he go… Yachiru?"
Yachiru, thumb in her mouth, scanned with him.
A terrifying reiatsu suddenly dropped.
"?!"
"!"
For an instant, it felt like plunging into lightless depths underground. The reiatsu was too alien.
"Yo, looking for me?"
A whisper seemed to tickle Kenpachi's ear.
Very close. Very close…
Like a tongue licking his neck.
Like Yachiru, sprawled on the other shoulder.
No—no illusion.
He could feel weight on his shoulder. Someone had silently matched his sprinting and laid a hand on him.
Shing!
A flash of steel ripped the "darkness."
It forced the ghostly shadow to show itself.
The Hollow took control of Ichigo's body and opened the distance, body language relaxed and playful.
"That the guy you meant, Yachiru?" Kenpachi stared.
"This…" Yachiru looked baffled. "It's Ichi's face, but… doesn't feel like the same person."
"Ha! No need to be confused," the Hollow twirled the greatblade in one hand and laughed. "You want a piece of Ichigo? You'll have to get past me."
"Yachiru—back off," Kenpachi cut her curiosity short. A savage, excited light lit his features.
"Okay!"
Once Yachiru had the sense to step away, Kenpachi stopped holding back. His reiatsu exploded, the scariest oni in the world to ordinary Shinigami, every grain of spiriton in Soul Society savaged by it—destruction incarnate.
"Yo… I don't care if you're Kurosaki Ichigo or a weirdo with his face. I only want to know how far you can go with me!"
"'Go with you'…? Don't kid yourself," the Hollow sneered at his headlong charge.
"This is a slaughter."
"And a foregone one."
He flung the spinning blade like a meteor hammer.
Kenpachi swatted it away—no threat.
But in the next instant, the Hollow vaulted, caught the hilt, and hammered down in a leaping chop—pinning him.
A round crater bloomed under Kenpachi's feet.
"Nice!"
"There's more… Getsuga Tenshō."
Boom!
Dazzling light burst from the edge; a crescent slash gouged deep underground, truly pressing him into lightless dark.
Watching from a high tower, Yachiru's little face crumpled with worry.
"Ken-ken…"
The foe was strong—the kind Kenpachi liked.
But Kenpachi was exactly the kind the foe excelled at dismantling.
"Haa…"
In the pit, Kenpachi looked like he'd been burned alive—bloodied head to toe—but he was still grinning, gripping his blade as he rushed.
Same result.
The Hollow parried with ease, slashed a line across his face, slipped his counter, then sliced the tendons of his wrist.
Gradually, Kenpachi felt what was different from his usual fights.
The music of blades clashing remained sweet.
The blood-hot surge remained.
The sting of wounds only thrilled him more.
But…
Only he was getting hurt.
The foe was a seasoned slaughterman—methodically suppressing prey, dismembering piece by piece, savoring the joy of work he loved.
This wasn't a fight.
It was a one-sided butcher's job.
"Say—you should probably use your full strength, right?" the Hollow said in a bind.
"You're right. Rare to meet a foe like this—I can't drop first," Kenpachi grinned and tore off his eyepatch with his free hand.
The long-restrained reiatsu roared free—more than a mere doubling, as if waking from sleep. Buildings crumbled under the flood, even the sky was touched.
Even so—
The Hollow's expression barely changed. No—there was a change: a bored sigh.
"Can't understand human speech, can you? Dumber than that idiot Ichigo—… Forget I said it. Calm down, you moron—don't come out now! Fine, I won't say it…"
As if someone had kicked him, the Hollow's face went stiff, eyes hot. With no outlet for payback, he vented on Kenpachi.
"Take this—!"
Kenpachi, sure he'd gone all out, exulted as he drove the Hollow back, then swung his ragged blade like a scythe—
And hit air.
His long blade was half missing.
He didn't know when it had happened. From the Hollow's raised blade he guessed a rising cut—intercepting early and shearing the weapon.
"?!"
First time for that.
His ecstatic mask hiccupped.
Rip!
Like tearing silk.
Blood geysered.
The Hollow drew a line from scapula to belly.
Then spun and blasted a kick into his gut.
Blood blossomed in midair; the man became a shell, flew dozens of meters, and smashed into a wall.
Even under that, Kenpachi didn't black out. He dragged himself out of the imprint, panting, staring at the broken blade.
Every bell on his head had fallen. His hair, soaked with sweat and blood, hung on his shoulders.
Battered head to toe, broken blade in hand.
It looked like the verdict was in.
But… why so fast?
The other hadn't even been hurt.
Was the gap truly that large?
If so… why couldn't he feel it?
Wasn't he trading blows with an equal?
"If you choose to be a mount, stop thinking like a king who stands alone," the Hollow sauntered closer.
"…What do you mean?" Kenpachi rasped.
"Tell me—what's the difference between man and horse?" the Hollow stopped ten meters away, grinning.
"I don't mean appearances. I mean—why can one be a king who rules, and the other only a mount to be ridden?"
"Where is that difference?"
"Intellect? Reason? Wit? Or… pure strength?"
"None of them. It's instinct."
"!?"
Kenpachi's eyes widened.
The Hollow pointed at him, eyes full of contempt.
"Instinct is the ruthless pursuit of power, the merciless crushing of foes, the endless thirst for strife—the primal kill-impulse branded in us."
"Know why you can't hit me?"
"Because you unconsciously throttle yourself—testing with the first strike to gauge the foe, then 'adjusting' to match."
"And I deliberately throttle myself to fool you—then ramp up and catch you blind."
"Once you adapt, I ramp again. So it's always you getting cut—not me."
"Drunk on 'duel'—and forgetting what a duel is."
"A king, and you wallow."
"'Blade in the sheath'? You're not even that—you throw it away, scared of killing the foe, and fight barehanded."
"Empty-handed, and you want to trade cuts with me? That's suicide."
"But I know you don't want to die… because dead men can't fight. So within your understanding, you'll still invoke fighting instinct and go all out."
"But a wallowing king with half-baked instinct—nobody—how could he beat a true mount?"
"So… call it."
"Call your mount—your Zanpakutō."
"Only then do you have the right to fight me."
The Hollow's words were knives prying open Kenpachi's chest—ripping out the heart and shoving it in his face—forcing him to see.
Along with that… the bloody past he'd forgotten.
"Zanpakutō…" Kenpachi didn't understand. He was dizzy from blood loss. But he clutched one thing:
Power. He needed power to keep fighting.
To keep… dueling.
I want to keep fighting.
I want to see this man's full strength.
So—whatever it takes.
Even if it's only half—give it to me now!
"Wraaaaaaah—!"
"Here it comes," the Hollow narrowed his eyes at Kenpachi's skyward roar.
Even flayed, the wounds became an outlet for power. Horror poured from him.
The broken blade in his hand melted and twisted under the density of reiatsu, becoming massive—like a beast made from nothing.
"Devour… Nozarashi!"
Kenpachi squeezed the dregs from his body and leapt, a tattered beast making a last charge. The giant blade was a visual shock—like a guillotine.
As he fell and swung, the scale of reiatsu wrapped around the stroke multiplied the pressure—as if a mountain-sized guillotine dropped.
The Hollow's lip curled—plan working.
The black eye-whites suddenly receded; the pupils returned. His whole aura shifted.
Ichigo stared at that terrifying figure. The greatblade turned black bow—his arm lifted—an arrow loosed.
But no arrow flew.
Blinding light burst instead.
Bathed in it, Kenpachi felt his whole body heat, like soaking in lava. Worse—the world went white. He couldn't see.
Half his blow was neutralized.
He snarled, relying on instinct to find the foe.
Then he felt shafts puncturing him.
No—
Knife edges entering flesh.
A feeling he knew by heart.
"Wraaaah!" Kenpachi roared and forced the distance closed—then landed a hit.
"…Now we're even. Let's keep going…"
Nozarashi, taller than a man, carved a direct path through the torso—a wound that should've matched everything dealt so far.
But the gash in Ichigo's chest healed at startling speed.
In seconds, only the tear in the shihakushō remained.
Worse—
At this range, Ichigo calmly drew a bead on Kenpachi's opening with the black bow.
"Getsuga… Tenshō."
A torrent of luminous reiatsu blasted out like a beam and engulfed him.
Over ten seconds later, Ichigo found the barely-breathing Kenpachi in ruins a street away.
"Good. Not dead."
He visibly relaxed.
"Ichi!"
"Eh? You're… Eleventh Vice-Captain Kusajishi Yachiru?"
"That's right! …Thank you, Ichi."
Yachiru glanced at Kenpachi, then said seriously, "Ichi risked taking a hit to make a kill chance… but didn't kill Ken-ken. And that other Ichi has a bad temper, but he helped Ken-ken get stronger… Thank you, both of you!"
She bowed deeply.
"…You Eleventh folks are weird—thanking the guy who did this to your captain… Honestly I feel kinda dirty," Ichigo scratched his head.
"Letting someone else tire out your foe and read their style, then jumping in when they're about to rally to catch them off guard—trading injury for injury—doesn't feel like much of a win."
"Then next time Ichi and Ken-ken can fight fair! However you like!" Yachiru beamed.
"Uh… I'll pass. I don't want to fight this unkillable monster again," Ichigo's mouth twitched. He tossed a helpful "get him to Fourth" over his shoulder and slipped away.
Yachiru was left alone, quietly watching over Kenpachi.
"Ken-ken… We found a great opponent. Next time… let's do a two-on-two team battle."
-------
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