Chapter 50: Fighting Senior Fisher Passes His Will to the Newbie
Faced with the high-speed barrage of punches exploding from Ichigo Kurosaki at close range, Kenpachi Zaraki struggled to parry.
In no time, his defensive stance was shattered. He took several heavy blows to the body, coughing up mouthfuls of blood. Yet, surprisingly, after spitting the blood, Kenpachi would always manage to tank the momentum, adjust his center of gravity, and resume his guard. He even found openings to throw a counter-punch, though they yielded little result.
Kenpachi's Taijutsu (body techniques) wasn't actually poor. This wasn't just because Captain-Commander Yamamoto, unable to stand his sloppiness, had personally given him basic training in the four Soul Reaper combat arts. It was more fundamentally because "Zanjutsu" in the Soul Society is built upon the foundation of Hakuda—physical combat.
This was logical: a Shikai or Bankai might not even retain the form of a blade. If one were taught only sword techniques, what would happen if their Zanpakuto transformed into a bow, a shield, or gauntlets? Thus, the Soul Society's "Zanjutsu" is less about fencing and more of a combat guide on [How to Fight with Various Bizarre Weapons]. It is a versatile system where even if the sword is lost, one can pick up a brick or use their bare hands with the same principles.
Kenpachi's Zanpakuto was merely an Asauchi he picked up from a battlefield in his youth. He had never heard the soul of his blade whisper, nor had he learned Shikai or Bankai. So, when his blade proved to be nothing more than a "metal bar" against Ichigo, he simply dropped it, intending to kill in a more direct, violent manner.
Of course, the primary reason was that Kenpachi could not bear the look of disappointment in Ichigo's eyes. That gaze was an ultimate insult, unlike anything Kenpachi had experienced in his long life. He intended to return that insult with his own two hands.
Throughout his long career of slaughter, even without formal training, Kenpachi had engraved the essentials of weight distribution, footwork, and power generation into his instincts. He practiced a "Self-Style Instinctual Taijutsu"—wild, savage, and lethal. Even a Soul Reaper specializing in Hakuda could be torn apart by him in seconds.
But after several rounds of brawling with Ichigo, Kenpachi's mind was filled with doubt.
He thought his own lack of formal technique was bad enough, but Ichigo's fighting skills seemed even worse. Ichigo's "technique" could only be described as completely disorganized! Yet, it was this chaotic style that was thrashing him into a pathetic state.
Is it speed? Ichigo was fast, but as Kenpachi focused, it didn't seem unmatchable. It exceeded his reaction limit by only a fraction; with his combat intuition, it shouldn't have been an issue.
Is it weight? Ichigo's fists were heavy, but Kenpachi sensed the spiritual energy within them wasn't overwhelming—it was strong, but not that strong.
That was the mystery!
Why does someone with worse technique than me break my guard again and again? Why, if his speed isn't blinding, am I constantly getting hit? Why, if his strength isn't astronomical, am I constantly spitting blood!?
This was a confusion Kenpachi had never felt. Strength should be quantifiable—gaps in power and skill should be clear, like with Yamamoto. The weak should be cut down instantly, like the Hollows and Soul Reapers he usually faced.
To Kenpachi, losing was acceptable, but being unable to understand how he was losing was an "Ultimate Insult" worse than death. To reject this insult, Kenpachi pushed his spiritual power to the limit, letting out an animalistic roar.
His golden, violent spiritual energy surged like a flood, turning into a tangible pressure that cracked the earth and made the air tremble. An ordinary enemy would have had their bones crushed, forced to their knees. But to Ichigo, this was useless. He simply wore a fanatical, blissful smile, letting out a "Keke" cackle as he continued to rain punches on Kenpachi from all angles.
Since he couldn't defend, Kenpachi gave up on defense. He used his sheer Reiatsu to tank the hits and focused entirely on counter-attacking.
The fists fell like raindrops, yet they only made him wilder. His roars were a mix of agonizing rage and ecstatic pleasure. This pure slaughter and struggle made a battle-maniac like him feel truly "High!"
Then, Ichigo was delighted to find that Kenpachi, with his Reiatsu at its peak, was still growing stronger. His reactions were sharpening; his strength was becoming more precise and crushing. A sense of danger followed—as if a beast of endless blood and death was awakening inside Kenpachi under the stimulus of imminent defeat.
Ichigo was overjoyed by this omen. Gradually, between the collision of fists, the beastly roars and the "Keke" cackles intertwined. The sheer volume and intensity of their combined spirit were so high that even the distant Captain-Commander Yamamoto winced, finding the sound ear-piercing.
Yamamoto, leaning on his cane, could sense everything. He had heard Ichigo's sincere, unreserved declaration. After long deliberation, he looked up at the blood-eye-filled sky and whispered:
"The material world is gone, save for Karakura Town? Is this 'Void Crisis' the reason for the Soul King's interference? But why choose the Quincies... and not us!?"
To the experienced Yamamoto, Ichigo's power was obvious—he could "smell" its nature. Combined with Uryu Ishida's actions, Yamamoto couldn't help but reach a conclusion:
"In the eyes of the Soul King... are we Soul Reapers 'Rebels'?"
He fell silent. He knew the reason better than anyone. If an order came from the Soul King Palace, the number of Nobles wanting to rush in and stab the King to keep Him quiet would stretch from the East Gate of the Seireitei to the West Road of Karakura!
Even the Zero Division wasn't necessarily loyal to the King's person; they revered the Order the King maintained as a "Linchpin" and the immortality they derived from Him. If the King fell and something else could replace Him, they would crown it "Soul King 2.0 Enhanced Edition" and continue their immortal oversight without a second thought.
Yamamoto asked himself: If the Soul King truly broke free and walked out, what would I, the leader of the Soul Reapers, do?
The answer was clear. Despite knowing the King's divinity, Yamamoto preferred Him to stay as a harmless background setting. He realized he was old. A millennium had worn away his drive to forge new paths at all costs. Like an old man, he preferred things to remain unchanged—for that was the proof of his existence.
"It seems we truly are rebels..." Yamamoto's tone was desolate, yet strangely resigned.
In truth, he was prepared. When an invisible hand gripped his throat and told him to "Begone" during Uryu's rampage, his first instinct had been to draw his sword. In that moment, he had already given his answer to the gaze from the heavens.
His figure looked more hunched, yet his eyes flickered with blood and fire. The "Ghost King" of a thousand years ago wasn't dead; he was waking up. He looked away from the sky and toward his Seireitei.
The "perverted" muscular martial artists were rampaging through the streets, beating Soul Reapers. Beyond them, certain familiar auras were moving in the shadows. Yamamoto whispered:
"Shinji Hirako... so you've returned as well. The storm is truly here."
Everyone underestimated how well Yamamoto knew the Seireitei—not just its scenery, but its people. He remembered the faces and auras of every Soul Reaper he had ever trained. He had known the Visoreds were safe in the material world and had left them alone. Now that they were back, he felt no surprise.
The Soul Society never lacked undercurrents or masterminds. But for a thousand years, none had succeeded. Yamamoto was both the creator of this era and its greatest suppressor. Anyone wishing for change had to face him.
Finally, his gaze landed back on Ichigo.
"Crave to be the strongest, Agent of the Soul King? I am waiting here. Let me see if your fists can truly beat the world and topple the era I created!"
It was a flicker of thought, but in the distance, Ichigo sensed it and momentarily lost focus. That distraction gave Kenpachi the opening he needed to land his first significant blow—a heavy punch to Ichigo's face that sent him flying.
Ichigo did a backflip and landed firmly.
"Sorry. I felt a strange invitation and got distracted. By the way, that was a great punch. Very potent. Please, continue!"
"I don't need you to tell me!" Kenpachi pounced like a wild beast, fighting with even greater intensity.
As they traded blows, the confusion in Kenpachi's heart was peeled away, replaced by enlightenment. But that realization didn't make him happy; it made him roar in fury:
"You bastard! You said all those pretty words about the 'Will to Beat the World' and told me to get serious... but you're the most distracted one here! You're powerful, yet you're fighting others with your main focus while only sparing a fraction of your mind for me!!!"
Kenpachi reached out and tore away Ichigo's shirt, which was already splitting from his muscle expansion.
A deep fist-print was branded into Ichigo's chest, vibrating like a living thing. Bizarre, crisscrossing patterns spread from the print across his torso, looking like an abstract Sun Tattoo.
The tattoo glowed with a sinister light, constantly gnawing at Ichigo's life, soul, power, and will. Ichigo was locked in a never-ending, violent struggle against this "injury" within his own body.
In this state, the strength he gave Kenpachi was secondary. That was why Kenpachi found him weird: Ichigo was strong, but he only used enough power to maintain the fight. His speed was "just right," his strength was "just right," and his technique was casual.
Exposed, Ichigo retreated a few steps. He looked down at the Sun Tattoo, then up at Kenpachi with a small smile:
"You noticed? Your combat intuition is sharp—about 20% Absolute Realm level. High Purity. But you're wrong about one thing: this wound I must fight with all my might is not a burden. On the contrary, it is the source of my power to become the strongest..."
Ichigo's expression became nostalgic.
"I once fought a world-shaking battle with an opponent of immense will and resolve. In that fight, our Purity ground against each other, climbing endlessly, our power and will sublimating. We burned everything to reach a conclusion. But afterward, I found my Purity stagnating—even regressing. Because there was no longer a powerful opponent to stimulate me, to burn and sublimate with..."
"I don't regret blasting that opponent into dust. I simply miss him. Fortunately, the final punch he threw before he died, burning his all, remained branded on my chest. Initially, I kept the wound out of sentiment; I could have healed it then. But as I felt my Purity slip, I began to 'nurture' this scar. I pushed this unfinished move toward its peak so I could repeatedly taste the exquisite afterglow of that legendary battle..."
Kenpachi, a fellow battle-maniac, understood immediately. Yet he was stunned.
"You use your own body as a battlefield, fighting an eternal, never-ending war with a dead enemy? How... damn it, such a brilliant idea! Why didn't I think of that?"
Ichigo laughed, genuinely happy to be understood.
"I must say it again, Mr. Kenpachi: you have a real talent for being a Martial Artist. The world of fighting cannot afford to lose you. Therefore, I've decided to personally host your 'Re-classing Ceremony.' Oh, a heads-up: I've been fighting you with 1% Absolute Realm power. For the ceremony, I'll lift the limits slightly. It's a painful process... please endure it..."
What was a Martial Artist's Re-classing Ceremony? Mo Yu, the Progenitor, had never made one. But Ichigo was happy to invent his own.
Ichigo could never forget his own start: a group of muscular giants kicking down Chad's door and chasing him through nine streets to force him to realize Purity! Ichigo felt such a "potent" and "wonderful" experience should be passed on to every new generation.
"Fisher, far away in Heaven... lend me your strength! Just as you did for me, show this new martial artist the Will of a Fighter! ABSOLUTE REALM 10% OUTPUT—ENDLESS HEAVENLY FIST!!!"
Ichigo lunged and swung his fist.
It looked the same as before, but in that instant, Kenpachi felt he was hallucinating. Behind Ichigo's attacking silhouette, ten bloated, muscular phantoms suddenly appeared, erupting with immense power and raining heavy punches down upon him!
Kenpachi resisted with all his might, but the outcome was certain. In a single instant, he took an uncountable number of punches as the phantoms roared with the same passion they had in life, pummeling him with a relentless barrage.
End of Chapter
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