"Clang! Clang! Clang!"
Kuyashiki Kenpachi and Zaraki Kenpachi — the Seventh and the Eleventh Kenpachi.
Separated by over eight generations and nearly three hundred years, these two warriors now faced each other, blades in hand, slashing and clashing with all their might.
Neither had any intention of releasing their Zanpakutō.
Both preferred the weapon's raw, original form — pure sword against sword — hacking at one another in a brutal, instinctive rhythm that was more brawl than art.
As sparks flew in every direction, both men's faces twisted into wild, ecstatic grins.
"State your name!"
Kuyashiki Kenpachi crooked his finger, beckoning his opponent with the air of a master accepting a challenger.
"Zaraki Kenpachi!"
Zaraki blinked, momentarily surprised by the man's tone — then grinned ferociously and roared his own name.
"Zaraki, huh? Let's see if you truly deserve the title of Kenpachi."
Kuyashiki's brow furrowed as he dropped into stance.
He didn't acknowledge Zaraki as a true Kenpachi.
To him, the one Zaraki defeated — Oniyashiro Kenpachi — was unworthy of the title.
And if that man wasn't a real Kenpachi, then neither was his successor.
"Hmph? You'll see soon enough!"
Murderous crimson light flared in Zaraki's eyes as he swung his blade straight for Kuyashiki's skull.
To Zaraki, all life was the same — if you split its head or pierce its heart, it dies.
That was the essence of the sword of killing he'd perfected over nearly a millennium of battle.
"Too slow."
Unfortunately, his opponent wasn't the type who could be felled by pure killing instinct.
Kuyashiki's speed outmatched Zaraki's — by far.
A flash of silver light—
and Zaraki's shoulder was suddenly impaled.
"Guh…"
Zaraki froze for an instant, staring at the blood gushing from his arm like a spring.
It was as if the idea of being wounded had never occurred to him.
"What's wrong? Is that all you've got?"
Kuyashiki didn't press the advantage.
Instead, curiosity gleamed in his eyes.
He wanted to see what this successor of his title could really do.
"Heh… hahahaha!"
Zaraki suddenly burst out laughing — a mad, guttural sound.
Ignoring the blood pouring down his arm, he raised his blade and swung again with his left hand.
"Has he gone mad?"
Kuyashiki frowned. This wasn't the kind of fight he wanted.
He raised his blade to block — he didn't even need to guess where Zaraki's strike would land.
Clang!
The blades met with a crisp metallic ring.
Kuyashiki barely flinched.
"As I thought… your strength has dropped."
He sighed, shaking his head in disappointment.
Then—
Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!
Zaraki's attacks exploded like a storm.
Each swing heavier, faster, more ferocious — his spiritual pressure surging with every strike.
One blow, two blows, three, four — eleven in total — until finally the last slash forced Kuyashiki back several steps, surprise flickering in his eyes.
"You…"
For the first time, Kuyashiki truly looked at Zaraki — and saw the truth.
It wasn't that the man had grown stronger mid-fight — it was that his sealed power was returning, little by little, through combat.
"Interesting…"
Kuyashiki's lips curled into a satisfied smile.
Yes, this is what a Kenpachi should be.
The title belonged only to the one who stood at the pinnacle — sword in hand, strength unmatched.
As for the ninth and tenth Kenpachi? Pathetic.
They were unworthy of the name.
"Let's see whose reiatsu reigns supreme!"
Kuyashiki grinned, releasing his suppressed spiritual pressure.
His deep-blue reiatsu surged like a roaring ocean, clashing violently against Zaraki's blazing golden aura.
"Whoa… that's incredible!"
Sōgo, watching nearby, wasn't nervous at all.
In fact, he looked amused.
"So, who do you think will win?"
He made no move to stop them — after all, his palace was due for renovation.
If they destroyed it, that just meant someone else would foot the bill.
"That beast's reiatsu is strong, but he's no match for Master Kuyashiki."
Sui-Feng spoke with absolute conviction.
She had trained under Kuyashiki — she knew the man's overwhelming skill.
Swordsmanship, strength, spiritual pressure — every aspect of him was flawless, a six-dimensional warrior.
No mere beast could best him.
"Not necessarily," said Harribel, arms crossed before her chest, eyes narrowed.
"I fought that man once. He's far stronger than he looks. His power surges like a tidal wave — when he hit me, I could feel it. That kind of force… it's not something you can resist."
"What about you, Lilynette?"
Sōgo turned to the girl lying lazily on the floor.
"Hmph. I don't feel like talking to you… unless you carry me."
"Oh? So you're betting on him, then," Sōgo replied casually.
"Wait—what? I didn't say that!"
Lilynette's face twisted in shock.
"It's fine. You can just lie there," Sōgo smiled, brushing her green hair gently.
"From now on, she'll be replacing you."
He pulled out a doll, grinning playfully.
"Sōgo! Don't abandon me!"
Lilynette cried, scrambling up to hug him tight.
"See? That got you off the floor," Sōgo chuckled softly.
The spot she'd just been lying on cracked apart a moment later — blasted by the shockwaves from the two Kenpachis' battle.
After a fierce exchange, Zaraki's body was covered in wounds.
His instincts — once so sharp — were beginning to fail him.
He finally realized: the man before him, wild-haired and beastlike as himself, was the strongest of them all.
Even Zaraki couldn't say for sure that he could win.
Kuyashiki outclassed him in swordsmanship, strength, and reiatsu.
And though Zaraki's power was still climbing, his body couldn't take much more.
It would all come down to one final strike.
"One last blow to decide it, then?"
Zaraki's veins bulged as his spiritual energy spiked violently — the strain splitting his skin.
He poured everything into that final swing.
"As you wish."
Kuyashiki nodded.
He too raised his blade high, condensing every ounce of power into one decisive strike.
"Aaaaah!!!"
"Haaaah!!!"
Twin pillars of energy shot skyward as their reiatsu erupted, shaking the entire palace to its foundations.
Cracks split the floor, the ceiling caved, beams snapped — the hall was seconds away from total collapse.
"Let's end this!"
Their blades descended simultaneously—
Only for a calm voice to cut through the roar.
"Alright~ that's enough."
A figure appeared between them, hands outstretched.
He caught both of their final, ultimate blows — barehanded.
"What—?!"
Zaraki stared, eyes wide, as Sōgo's hands easily stopped his strike.
His instincts had been right all along — this white-haired man was a monster among monsters.
Kuyashiki, on the other hand, only smiled.
He already knew Sōgo's power.
If Sōgo hadn't been able to stop them, that would've been surprising.
"That's enough fighting for now," said Sōgo, smiling gently.
"We're stopping here?" Zaraki scowled.
His blood still burned for battle.
"You still want to fight?"
"Isn't that obvious?"
"Alright then," Sōgo replied pleasantly.
"If you want to fight… I'll fight you."
"You? Hahaha! Fine, let's see what you've got!"
Zaraki grinned wildly — to face someone like Sōgo was a dream come true.
"Sure thing."
Sōgo's smile never wavered.
He moved — and in the blink of an eye, his arm blurred.
Bam.
His fist sank into Zaraki's gut.
"Guh—!"
Zaraki's eyes rolled back as blood burst from his mouth.
He collapsed with a thud, instantly unconscious.
The mighty beast — Kenpachi Zaraki — hadn't even lasted a single blow.
"Excellent," Sōgo nodded calmly.
"The best kind of Kenpachi… is an unconscious one."
He turned, pulling a small booklet from his robes and handing it to Yachiru Kusajishi, who was being restrained by Hikifune.
"What's this, Sōgo?"
"Well," he smiled kindly, "my palace is completely wrecked. Renovating it will probably cost, what, ten million ryō?"
"So, I'll leave the bill to your Eleventh Division."
He patted Yachiru's head gently.
"Don't worry — you don't have to pay it all at once. I know you can't.
Take your time — a hundred years, a thousand — as long as it's paid before you die, that'll be fine."
His tone was soft, almost tender.
"Sōgo… you're terrifying…"
Yachiru's face went pale.
She was sure she'd just been traumatized for life.