In an instant, alarm bells screamed in Makoto's mind.
Before he could react, the old man before him, Yamamoto, drew his aura inward.
His sinewy hands gripped the hilt of his Zanpakutō.
The officers, shaken by the oppressive reiatsu, shuddered and retreated even farther.
Only the captains on the sidelines, sensing something, sharpened their focus.
Makoto, standing opposite Yamamoto, felt his pupils contract.
Kuruyashiki Ryōma glanced back.
Yamamoto's Asauchi hadn't even released its Shikai. With a seemingly lax grip, the blade traced a slow, deliberate arc through the air.
Here it comes!
Makoto's body tensed.
Snap.
The old man stepped forward, his blade guided by a light flick of his wrist, descending without a ripple, as if weightless.
"First Strike!"
His voice rang out, resolute and unyielding.
The blade settled.
A faint breeze turned sharp.
In the next moment, a terrifying roar, like a hurricane unleashed, erupted in everyone's ears. A shockwave, too fast for the naked eye, tore through the space between Yamamoto and Makoto, rendering air, stone, debris, and dust into a vacuum.
Simultaneously, a surge of force exploded outward!
The true power hidden within the sword pressure materialized as a blinding white shockwave, like a giant's blade, slicing from one point to another in a perfect line.
Even the officers standing nearby were unscathed by the strike, able to clearly see the mirror-smooth edges of the ruptured ground.
Yamamoto's Zanjutsu was flawless, his control of force unparalleled.
But for Makoto, facing this strike head-on, it was all dire news.
Clang!
His blade blazed with reiatsu, its razor-sharp edge slicing through the hurricane-like sword pressure with ease, parting the ferocious winds to either side.
The hidden force within burst forth like a punctured balloon, shattering everything around Makoto. A 'V'-shaped fissure radiated outward, hurling waves of earth and stone.
Kuruyashiki Ryōma, who moments ago wanted to edge closer for a better view, was flung back, his small frame tumbling into the crowd.
His gaze toward the battlefield brimmed with uncontained shock.
This is the power of a true warrior?!
"Oh!"
On the platform, Katori adjusted her glasses, a hint of surprise flickering across her seemingly innocent face. "Yamamoto-sama isn't holding back at all, is he?"
"Tch."
Saitō, arms crossed, shot her a displeased glance, clicking her tongue. "Obviously."
The girl's single eye fixed on the two figures in the arena, her voice dropping, laced with meaning.
"That's Makoto, after all..."
Unohana's face held its serene smile, unchanged.
Only a faint gleam flickered in the depths of her eyes.
Scrape!
Makoto's flimsy straw sandals, bolstered by reiatsu, dug deep into the stone and earth. Under the crushing pressure, he slid back, his feet carving twin grooves.
Only when the vacuum-like path roared past did his steps finally hold.
[Zanjutsu +10]
Smoke rose from his blade and hands, scorched by the friction.
The sleeves of his Shihakushō, loose moments ago, were half-burned, as if kissed by flame.
"Haa-"
Makoto exhaled heavily.
He lifted his gaze to Yamamoto, not far off.
The old man stood unmoved, not taking a single step even as Makoto struggled, as if disdaining to exploit a junior's weakness.
This man was the pinnacle of what it meant to be a Shinigami.
Zanjutsu, Hakuda, Hohō, Kidō, Zanpakutō, raw power, even age and physical condition!
Every facet of his being was the ultimate within the realm of Shinigami.
This was the enemy he faced!
Noticing Makoto's gaze, Yamamoto's lips curved into a faint smirk. "What? Already at your limit?"
"That was merely 'sword pressure.'"
Makoto grinned back.
"...Keep going!"
"That's the spirit."
Yamamoto chuckled low, his blade trembling as he swung it to the side, his body wreathed in flame-like reiatsu.
"All things in creation, reduced to ash!"
"Ryūjin Jakka."
Surging heat exploded outward, waves of scorching air rippling in all directions, the backdrop aglow with blazing light.
The officers could no longer stand their ground. Even a step closer felt like their bodies would ignite under the terrifying heat.
Makoto, standing directly in front, felt it most acutely.
As Unohana once said.
Even among tier-1 reiatsu, the gaps are vast.
And he hadn't even reached that level.
With every breath, searing pain burned through his lungs.
Yet, this visceral agony sharpened Makoto's focus, his senses crystalline.
[Wall of Sighs]
Yamamoto's gaze grew more approving.
In the next moment, his blade flared with torrents of flame.
Makoto braced, fully alert.
But Yamamoto merely took another step.
His not-so-tall figure vanished abruptly from Makoto's sight.
So fast.
The thought barely flashed through his mind.
By the time his sluggish retinas caught the next frame, Yamamoto stood before him, both hands raising a blazing Zanpakutō.
A crescent arc tore through the air, dazzling as a waning moon!
"Taimatsu!"
[Flawless Circle]
In the split second before the blade descended, Makoto's senses peaked within a one-meter radius, time seeming to still, reaching the zenith of what a Shinigami could achieve.
Bloodshot veins webbed his eyes, capturing the blade's fire brighter than the sun.
His nostrils flared, inhaling the charred scent of scorched air.
His ears rang with near-white noise, drowned in the roar of burning blasts.
Every inch of his skin felt the heat threatening to cook him through.
Deep in his throat, the metallic tang of blood surged as his body strained with full force!
The blade arced upward, slicing through the air. In Makoto's peripheral vision, he glimpsed wisps of searing white vapor trailing from the edge, blazing as it broke the limits of speed.
It met the torrent of flame descending from above.
Collision!
Boom!
A sound like a massive bell or a hammer striking a drum roared out.
In that instant of clashing blades, everyone, officers in the distance, captains on the platform, felt their hearts skip a beat.
A low, growling roar rippled through the earth, the solid ground and stone softening as if churned by waves, undulating uncontrollably.
The ground beneath Makoto's feet caved in, his stance sinking as if he'd shrunk a fraction.
The unleashed flames engulfed his entire form, a straight line of fire tearing through hundreds of meters of empty ground behind him.
The panel in his mind flashed with massive experience gains, starkly revealing the terrifying gap between them.
[Zanjutsu +10]
On the platform, Saitō's single eye narrowed, her petite frame tensing like iron.
But as she sensed the vibrant, unyielding reiatsu within the flames, her heart eased half a beat.
Still, she muttered under her breath, venom in her voice:
"That old geezer!"
Sadly, Yamamoto had no time for such idle remarks.
He gazed at Makoto, pinned beneath his blade, his tone as steady as before, only rising in pitch:
"Is this all you've got, Makoto?"
Clang!
The blades clashed, and Makoto shed the crushing force, staggering back.
Yamamoto's strike hit empty air, shattering the stone ground for dozens of meters. Chunks of earth collapsed like scattered blocks toppled by a mischievous child.
Yet neither Makoto nor Yamamoto spared a glance.
Their eyes locked, each seeing only the other.
Two of the three strikes had passed.
But was Makoto the type to take a beating without fighting back?
His gaze fixed on Yamamoto, slender fingers tracing his blade. The pure white Asauchi morphed into a black-and-red Nodachi.
"Living idly and dying as if dreaming; binding the truth and fixing the falsehood; pursue the cause and invert the consequence..."
"Oharai Gougi!"
To preserve his innocence before the crowd, he couldn't use certain... questionable techniques.
But still...
Even Makoto had Zanpakutō abilities he could proudly share with friends and family!
"Don't underestimate me."
"Old geezer."
Makoto gripped the curved Nodachi with both hands, leaning forward, a mocking smirk on his face:
"My blade, you won't withstand it!"
[Fixing Falsehood]
The moment his words fell, a third of the vibrant reiatsu surging from his Shikai vanished abruptly.
He stepped forward.
First a slow advance, then accelerating, until he moved so fast he grazed the ground, too swift for the naked eye.
His loosely tied hair snapped taut, streaming like a banner in the wind.
Under some near-rule-like force, his compressed reiatsu coated Oharai Gougi's black blade with a shimmering film.
Until, like a cascading waterfall, he struck at Yamamoto.
Makoto swung like a foolish child spinning with an oversized hammer.
All his strength, unleashed without restraint!
Yamamoto, noticing this, paused, then grinned wider, his thick black mustache quivering.
In near-perfect sync, the flames on his blade dimmed, condensing into a dark red glow along the edge.
Without hesitation, he swung toward Makoto.
A blade poured with full force deserved an equally committed response!
White and red light collided.
Silence swallowed the sound.
Kuruyashiki Ryōma, eyes glued to the battlefield, was blinded by a sudden flash, his vision drowned in white.
The captains on the platform, sensing the exaggerated reiatsu clash, leaned forward. Saitō's small foot stomped the railing, nearly leaping off.
Every heart in the arena seemed gripped by the scene, breath held.
Only Unohana, hands tucked in her sleeves, watched calmly.
Until she sensed something, her brow twitching slightly.
Rumble!!
The spreading sonic waves reverberated, finally audible, making many wince in pain.
Yet all eyes remained fixed on the battlefield.
As the reiatsu shockwaves cleared with the dust and airflow, Makoto and Yamamoto stood firm.
Their blades had parted.
They held a tense standoff.
Thud.
Makoto dropped to one knee first.
In that fleeting moment, the searing flames had consumed half his body, burning away the right side of his Shihakushō, exposing scorched, blackened skin. Even the edges of his untrimmed hair curled from the heat, reeking of singed char.
He looked wretched.
Clearly, no trick or ability could bridge the gap in raw power.
Yet, kneeling, Makoto's face slowly broke into a faint smile.
Yamamoto stood still.
Below his left eyelid, a deep, long gash ran straight to his ear.
Blood trickled from the wound, staining half his face.
It seemed minor.
Yamamoto touched the blood with his fingertip, studying it.
"Another... scar worth remembering."
He looked down at Makoto.
Makoto met his gaze.
Yamamoto flashed a hearty grin, clapping Makoto's shoulder with force, as if shedding a heavy burden, exhaling slowly:
"Makoto."
"I acknowledge you."
...
[Zanjutsu +10]
[Zanjutsu: Tier 15 ↑]
[Zanjutsu Bottleneck: Stage 5]
***
Bonus Chapter:
100 Power Stones = 1 BC
300 Power Stones = 2 BC
500 Power Stones = 3 BC
700 Power Stones = 4 BC
1000 Power Stones = 5 BC
***
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