During the swordsmanship competition, Zaraki Kenpachi had looked on disinterestedly until Matsumoto Rangiku defeated Kira Izuru in a single strike. That aroused some curiosity in him.
He jumped onto the platform, the bells in his hair swaying with each step and chiming sharply in the air.
His bells weren't for show-they were there so opponents could hear his movements clearly. It was his way of making fights fairer-and, by his standards, far better.
"Come on. Right here!" he shouted, rapping his chest with the hilt of his sword. "Give me everything you've gott!"
Matsumoto Rangiku tightened her grip on her Zanpakutō the moment she recognized him.
"I understand, Captain Zaraki!" she said, vanishing in a flash before striking directly at his chest.
Her blade struck solidly-but it felt like striking tempered steel. It didn't pierce at any angle, and behind its resistance stood Kenpachi, unmoved.
Rangiku's eyes widened. No matter how she followed up, cutting again and again with increased force, nothing broke through his skin.
Kenpachi's brief interest waned. He had expected that someone capable of downing Kira would pose some kind of threat, but it wasn't the case. They were simply too weak.
Watching her strikes accomplish nothing, Rangiku retreated slightly and whispered under her breath:
"Growl... Haineko."
Her Zanpakutō dissolved into fine dust-the particles quickly becoming transparent as they expanded in range.
Her Shikai transformed her blade into countless motes of ash so fine they were practically invisible, suspended in the air around her opponent. Though similar in concept to Kuchiki Byakuya's Senbonzakura, her Haineko was finer-dust instead of petals, capable of permeating small entry points and avoiding counterattacks entirely.
Kenpachi stood his ground inside the growing cloud.
"So your Zanpakutō turns into smoke?"
He scoffed. "Dust doesn't leave scars."
"Doesn't it?" Rangiku replied, and she waved the hilt of her sword.
In that moment, blood appeared on Kenpachi's arm. A fine, clean cut traced across the skin.
"As long as you're inside Haineko's range," she said, "a flick of the hilt turns the particles into cutting blades."
Kenpachi glanced at the thin wound, expression unchanged. "You managed to injure me. That means your spiritual pressure is nearing captain-class."
"But that's not enough to bring me down."
Without giving her time to respond, he charged forward and swung hard. She couldn't dodge in time.
Blood spilled as the blade made contact, and Rangiku collapsed onto the ground from the impact alone. Kenpachi lowered his sword slightly.
"It's over," he said, flicking the blood from the tip of his Zanpakutō.
Yet from the ground came her reply: "Is it?"
Before he could react, she lifted her arm and waved the hilt again.
Kenpachi's body jerked in place, his eyes dilating. A sudden sensation of tearing pulled through his abdomen, throat, and nasal cavity-sharp, internal cuts emerging where he hadn't expected any.
His fist slammed into his own stomach.
Blood sprayed from his mouth, mixed with ash-like dust escaping with it.
"Those particles entered through your breath earlier," Rangiku said from the ground. "They settled inside your body. I knew I couldn't fight you directly, so I used Haineko to attack your insides instead."
"Your nose. Your throat. Your stomach. None of those are as hard as your skin."
She exhaled sharply. "You've lost."
As she finished her sentence, Kenpachi's body convulsed slightly-dust erupted from the wounds on his torso and limbs as they tore open simultaneously.
Kenpachi dropped to his knees with a heavy slam, blood running down several cuts across his chest and side. Even so, his expression wasn't one of defeat-it was focused, almost intrigued.
"As vice-captain... To push me this far... you're qualified," he said, slowly rising back to his feet as though the pain didn't register at his limit.
No-he felt it. He simply welcomed it.
"I've faced death hundreds of times before. This is nothing new."
His eyes softened, just slightly. "Had your spiritual pressure been higher... this might've finished me."
"But right now-we're not there."
Without another word, Zaraki stepped off the platform and walked away. The fight had ceased to entertain him.
Rangiku coughed blood where she lay, but before she could be treated by the approaching medics from the Fourth Division, they noticed her injuries closing on their own-bit by bit.
She felt warmth radiating outward from her abdomen. The spiritual pressure she had absorbed earlier was acting up again, not just healing her wounds-but strengthening her further.
Her hands pressed into the floor as she slowly rose to her feet.
Her mind reeled with one name.
Yuta... What kind of spiritual pressure do you truly have?
What existence are you standing in right now?
She couldn't see through him anymore. Where once she had seen only the figure of a student-he now felt distant and obscured, like someone hidden behind the haze of her own Zanpakutō.
After Zaraki Kenpachi exited from the 8th Division, Kusaka Yachiru leapt onto his back and clutched his uniform tightly with both hands. Although she'd just seen him injured, she didn't try to stop him. She understood well enough that Kenpachi thrived on battle and lived for its challenge.
"Did Ken-Chan have fun just now?"
Zaraki Kenpachi shook his head. "Wasn't fun enough."
From her perch on his back, Yachiru suddenly spotted movement in the distance. Her eyes narrowed in excitement.
"Ah! Ken-Chan, look-isn't that someone in Kido Corps captain's robes? Are they from the Kido Corps?"
Zaraki followed her gaze. Sure enough, two figures were approaching. He immediately noticed the three Zanpakuto at Yuta's waist-an unusual sight that piqued his curiosity.
"Never seen anyone walk around with three Zanpakuto," he said, his tone rough with interest. "Let's go take a look."
As they moved closer, Kusaka Yachiru quickly recognized Yuta from the portrait they'd seen back at Shino Academy. With his striking appearance, Yuta was easy to identify.
"Huh? That looks like Yuta! It's him for sure!"
Zaraki nodded and told her to stay back. He stepped forward alone.
"Finally found you... Yuta."
Yuta met him with calmness. "Oh? You know me?"
"'Course I do," Zaraki said. "You're from the Zaraki District too, right? Though you don't act the part. You left too soon-didn't pick up the craziness." He cracked his knuckles. "Come on. Let's settle it. Two from the same place-let's find out who's stronger."
Yuta cast his gaze toward the horizon. Matsumoto Rangiku was approaching quickly, her expression tense with concern. She pressed her hand against her chest as she watched from afar, clearly worried about what would follow. Yuta understood immediately-Kenpachi had injured her earlier.
His expression darkened subtly.
"Have you ever experienced death before?" he asked.
Zaraki tilted his head. "What?"
Before he could react further, Yuta moved. In the space of one breath, he appeared behind Kenpachi and sheathed his blade.
To most onlookers, nothing had happened. Only Aizen Sosuke flinched slightly-he had seen it. Kenpachi froze mid-stride, eyes wide in confusion. A moment passed.
"Kenpachi, why aren't you moving?" Yachiru called out from the side.
Blood erupted from Kenpachi's body. Darkness seemed to pull the surroundings inward as he collapsed forward into the dirt.
No one had seen what Yuta did. No swing. No flash of steel. Just silence-and then the aftermath.
Ise Nanao clutched the clothes in her arms tighter as she stared in disbelief. Had Yuta even drawn his sword?
It didn't matter-whatever he did had felled Zaraki Kenpachi in one strike.
Matsumoto Rangiku stood frozen, mouth slightly open. Zaraki wasn't just any captain-he led the 11th Division, the battle-hardened core of the Gotei 13. Yet he'd been taken down in moments.
Beside her, Hinamori Momo stared in stunned silence. Just days before, Yuta had been nothing but another student at Shino Academy.
In the dead air, Yuta's words came out low and unhurried.
"The so-called Kenpachi seeks defeat. As Kenpachi... do you feel like you've failed?"
From the ground, Kenpachi grunted. He pushed himself up slowly, unsteady but alive. He looked at Yuta as if seeing him for the first time.
Around them, even Yachiru stood motionless, uncertain of what had just occurred.
Kenpachi's lips curled into a wild grin. The wound on his chest had closed.
"Hah... Hahaha..."
His laughter rose, deeper and louder with each passing second.
"That's what I've been looking for... to fight someone this strong. So this is what it feels like."
He lunged forward again, blade in hand. Yuta sighed and opened the Spirit Book-a blade wrapped in heavy bandages. As he drew it, the cloth unraveled and fluttered in the wind before falling away behind him.
"This is how you use Haineko," he said to Matsumoto Rangiku in the distance. "Mow low, Haineko."
In the next instant, the blade dissolved into fine, invisible dust.
Yuta extended his hand and lightly pointed toward Kenpachi.
There was no pressure behind the gesture, no apparent force. Yet it triggered immediate response.
Shredding sounds echoed-flesh tearing under sudden pressure. Eight eruptions of blood burst from Kenpachi's body in succession before he stumbled to his knees.
No one had seen it coming. The weapon was too fine, too dispersed to track. Yuta spoke in clear tones as he lowered his arm.
"Haineko becomes countless dust particles, controlled entirely by spiritual energy."
"I turned my Zanpakuto into particles smaller than sight."
"He's now full of holes-his entire spiritual structure severed at its connecting points."
"He's only standing because his body refuses to fall apart."
And Zaraki Kenpachi-tall, powerful, feared-could only struggle to remain upright as blood poured freely from his wounds.
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