"Bang!"
The sound of Kenpachi Zaraki hitting the ground was loud and crisp.
That noise left Natsuro momentarily stunned, up until the instant he collapsed there had been no sign whatsoever that Zaraki was about to fall.
Walking up to him, he listened to the man's steady breathing.
Zaraki was not dead, it was just that his body had finally reached its limit, he had simply collapsed from exhaustion and was now snoring peacefully.
Natsuro couldn't help but sigh, half amused, half impressed.
What a man born for battle.
Even after reaching such extremes of fatigue, every single swing he delivered before fainting had been just as powerful as the first.
As for Natsuro, he was in far better condition. Zaraki's body was monstrous, his regenerative ability frighteningly strong.
But regeneration still consumes stamina, and after suffering nearly a thousand cuts from Natsuro, Zaraki's physical drain was far beyond his own.
Of course, the fact that Natsuro could still be standing here without issue was proof that his constitution was hardly inferior…
After all, he was a soul that had once stood at the peak of another world. Even if the systems of power were different, there was no way he could be weak.
It was only that no one had yet managed to push him into going all out, so his endurance had never been fully revealed.
Sheathing Meikyō Shisui, Natsuro stretched lazily. This battle had been satisfying.
No wonder Zaraki was so terrifying, everything about him was maxed out… except his brain.
With one hand, he slung Zaraki's unconscious body over his shoulder and started back toward the Eleventh Division barracks.
He honestly had no idea how long their fight had lasted. In Muken, time was almost impossible to sense.
Soon, he emerged at the division's gates, where Ikkaku Madarame was pacing anxiously.
At last, spotting Natsuro and the slumped Zaraki on his back, Ikkaku's eyes lit up, and he shouted:
"Captain! You're finally back!"
His shout stirred the rest of the Eleventh Division, and members rushed over.
"Eh? Is all this really necessary?" Natsuro muttered, handing Zaraki over to Ikkaku. "Relax. He's fine. Just collapsed from exhaustion."
"Ex… exhaustion?" Ikkaku's eyes widened in disbelief.
In the Eleventh Division, Zaraki was practically a monster, none of them had ever seen him run out of stamina!
Then realization dawned, and Ikkaku looked at Natsuro as though at something even scarier.
If their monster captain had collapsed from fatigue, yet this man stood unfazed… then what was he?
Ikkaku quickly inspected Zaraki's body, only to freeze at the sight of countless wounds covering him. "Didn't you say he was fine?"
The atmosphere tensed, until Natsuro spoke casually.
"No battle leaves you unscathed. For him, these are nothing. He'll recover quickly. Honestly, if his regeneration weren't this strong, the fight would've ended ages ago."
"That's right, Natsuro isn't wrong!" Yachiru Kusajishi suddenly leapt onto Ikkaku's shoulder, perching there with her cheeks in her palms, smiling down at Zaraki.
"Ken-chan's really happy right now. Even passed out, he's smiling inside."
"…Is that so." Ikkaku exhaled, then immediately twitched with irritation. "Hey! Could you not sit on my shoulder while saying that?!"
"Heehee~" Yachiru stuck out her tongue before hopping off.
"Oh, right, how long has it been since Kenpachi and I left?" Natsuro asked.
"What, you don't even know?" Ikkaku gaped.
"Didn't exactly have time to think about it. And over there, it's hard to sense time at all," Natsuro explained.
"…Wait, were you fighting in the Dangai or something?" Ikkaku groaned. "You two vanished for a whole week. If the vice-captain hadn't said the captain was fine, we would've launched a full-scale search!"
"A week?" Natsuro raised a brow. He hadn't realized the battle had dragged on so long.
But then again, as souls, they had no physical needs like hunger, and in a place where time was so distorted, with their monstrous stamina and no big techniques used… just hacking away like primitives, a week-long duel almost seemed normal.
"Yeah, that's long enough. Take good care of Kenpachi. When he wakes, tell him to keep training. I'll be back for him."
"Got it." Ikkaku nodded. Now that he knew it had only been a fight, he didn't press further.
"Then I'll be off." Natsuro turned and headed for the Fourth Division. Though unscathed, even he wanted some rest.
After he left, Yachiru gazed at the unconscious Zaraki and murmured, "Ken-chan hasn't been this happy in forever."
"What's happy about being knocked out?" Ikkaku grumbled.
"You don't get it," Yachiru said seriously. "All he's ever wanted is this kind of fight."
Why did Zaraki respect Unohana so deeply, yet not hold Yamamoto in the same regard?
Because Unohana had beaten him with pure sword-to-sword combat. Yamamoto's overwhelming strength was built on total domination... Reiatsu, zanpakutō, everything.
Now, another had bested Zaraki in the same way.
And victory or defeat? Zaraki never cared. He'd rather lose to someone like Natsuro than win countless times against weaker foes.
Even life and death didn't matter. If one day he were to die in such a fight, he would tell everyone, it was his happiest moment, and his willing death.
That was Zaraki Kenpachi.
Yachiru recalled the pull she had once felt, perhaps one day, in a clash like this, Kenpachi might truly return to who he once was.
Meanwhile, Natsuro returned to the Fourth Division.
Unlike the uproar at the Eleventh, here no one was surprised.
Not because he was held in lesser esteem, but because… they were already used to him vanishing without notice.
He didn't go to see Unohana. Instead, he returned to his quarters, lay down on his bed for the first time in ages, and drifted into sleep.
No one came to disturb him, except…
From a ripple in space, Umbreon stepped out gracefully.
Her crimson eyes glowed with attachment as she brushed her face against Natsuro's cheek, then nestled down beside him and closed her eyes as well.
Sleep, at least for the Natsuro of the Bleach world, was unnecessary.
As a soul, he rarely felt drowsy. Even back in the Naruto world, high atop his mountain, he had hardly ever slept. All his time spent in relentless training, chasing an almost unreachable summit.
But now, for once, he let everything go and surrendered to sleep.
Of course, that didn't mean his guard was lowered. If anyone tried to strike while he rested… they would be met with his wrath.
Fortunately, no fool chose to intrude.
Though he was technically still a vice-captain of the Fourth Division, all his duties had long been handled by Isane Kotetsu.
And he had made no move to reclaim them. The other members were already used to going to Isane for everything.
So in practice, he was a vice-captain drawing a salary without lifting a finger.
Thus, when members needed their vice-captain, they sought Isane, never him.
And so it was that Natsuro slept undisturbed for several days and nights.
At last, he slowly opened his eyes.
"Mm…"
Natsuro stretched lazily, savoring the soothing comfort that flowed from within his body outward, it had truly been far too long since he'd felt this way.
Turning his head, he looked at Umbreon resting beside him. He reached out and stroked her soft fur.
At last, Umbreon slowly opened her eyes, let out a contented cry, licked Natsuro's cheek, and then once again stepped into the void.
Standing at the doorway, Natsuro gazed over the flowers and plants in his courtyard. They were all Unohana's, her own garden could no longer hold them, so she had placed them here instead.
Looking at this splash of green and color, he felt an unusual sense of leisure.
On the path of unceasing pursuit of greater strength, it had been a very long time since he had allowed himself such rest.
A stolen half-day of leisure, the purest flavor of life is quiet joy.
Natsuro walked slowly into the flowerbeds, feeling the breeze brush his face, carrying the fragrance of blossoms. His hand, almost unconsciously, closed around the hilt of Meikyō Shisui.
Since he had enjoyed a rare moment of peace, it was only natural to return to the proper path once peace was done.
In his mind, scenes of his battle with Zaraki Kenpachi replayed, especially those few cuts where Kenpachi's sword had actually landed on him…
Despite all the flaws he could see in Zaraki's blade, why had those strikes managed to hit him?
He began to move, as if tracing something out, but each time, in the end, he shook his head and started over.
Days and nights passed in a blur. Time slipped past like flowing water as he continued his endless simulation.
Finally, his sword stilled. Even now, he had not found a way to completely guard against Kenpachi's blade.
Yes, in terms of swordsmanship, Zaraki was in no way his equal. Yet his feral instinct, and his purest tactic... To cut, and cut again, could not be dismissed.
Even without refined technique, Zaraki's blade still held the most fundamental essence of swordsmanship.
Natsuro chuckled softly, staring at Meikyō Shisui, as though he had grasped something.
No technique was ever truly flawless. Even if he simulated a fight against Kenpachi where he took no wounds, that only meant Kenpachi had not been strong enough.
Once Zaraki grew stronger, his simulations would become meaningless.
"Instinct, is it?" Natsuro murmured. Then he shook his head. He could never fight only with raw instinct.
But that did not mean his swordsmanship could not blend with instinct.
As he pondered, he moved again, this time, only the most fundamental sword techniques:
Slash, chop, carve, block, scrape, lift, thrust, jab, cleave, coil, fan, intercept, glide…
Each motion was textbook-perfect, as if lifted straight from a manual.
Gradually his movements shifted, less rigidly "perfect", yet unmistakably still the most basic forms of swordsmanship. Nothing had been lost.
And then, in that little courtyard... lightning cracked, rain nourished the earth and flames of war raged across the skies…
He cycled through every sword form he commanded, filling the courtyard with their echo, before finally sheathing Meikyō Shisui.
Just then, Unohana pushed open the courtyard gate, speaking helplessly:
"If you want to practice swordsmanship, do it at the training hall. Hurting these flowers and plants would be troublesome."
"They're not hurt, are they?" Natsuro looked at her and smiled.
"Hmm?" Unohana froze, glancing around.
The flowers and grass were entirely intact yet moments ago, she had clearly felt the crushing reiatsu and had sensed those familiar sword forms.
Any one of those techniques carried terrifying destructive power. How had the garden survived, untouched?
Natsuro gave no explanation. He felt as though he had touched upon something, but it was too elusive to put into words.
Perhaps, only in future training, waiting for another flash of insight, would it become clear.
"It seems… you've grown even stronger. What a monster," Unohana murmured in awe.
"Perhaps."
Natsuro chuckled, neither admitting nor denying it.
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Currently on Chapter 491 - An Enemy of Soul Society?