Chapter 51: Trust in a Dear Friend, Aizen
It wasn't that Kenpachi Zaraki had never been ganged up on. In fact, to increase the difficulty and fun of combat, he occasionally held internal training sessions where he had the entire 11th Division charge at him at once. He was exceptionally experienced in dealing with multiple opponents.
But facing the siege of these bloated, ugly giants, Kenpachi found his experience completely useless!
The moment he tried to lift his arm, his joints were struck. The moment he tried to exert force, his center of gravity was sabotaged. Even the thought of regulating his breathing vanished as his throat and stomach were hammered. Even his spiritual pressure, as it tried to gather, was blasted apart by the continuous barrage.
Though these giants were mere phantoms, they possessed a terrifying combat intelligence. Every strike was pre-emptive, dismantling his moves before they could manifest. Kenpachi, despite his immense strength, was like a ragdoll swinging back and forth under a torrential storm of blows. Even his furious roars sounded weak and breathless.
Kenpachi had always looked down on "flashy techniques," but in this moment, he realized how terrifying high-purity technique could truly be!
He was pummeled until he was literally floating; his feet never touched the ground, yet he couldn't fall or be sent flying. These hideous phantoms, with exquisite power and skill, had forcibly turned Kenpachi into a human "tumbler toy," pinning him in place to continuously dismantle his resistance and keep up their output.
If the world of Bleach were a fighting game, Ichigo's "Heavenly Fist" ultimate would have reached a 999+ combo count by now.
Even worse for Kenpachi was that every punch from these phantoms carried a searing aura that seeped into his body, subsequently bombarding his spirit. His mind, under constant assault, began to hallucinate. He seemed to hear high-octane music echoing between heaven and earth. Then, within that music, a bloated, ugly but muscular giant in a white suit, holding a bouquet of chrysanthemums and a tub of Vaseline, began to materialize from the void, walking slowly toward him!
Unlike the other striking phantoms, this vision appeared far more real. His eyes carried a bizarre, fiery greed, and his face wore a perverted smile that would make any male shiver to the core.
With every step this giant in the white suit took, his presence surged—doubling, tripling, exploding—until a peerless battle intent rose like a pillar of flame!
Within that clamorous battle intent, Kenpachi vaguely heard the giant's whisper:
"Even if I have no memories, even if I know not why I exist and my heart is filled only with endless void, it does not matter. A man cannot choose his origin, nor can he change his past. But he can choose his own path and the future he seeks. When I clench my fists, everything named 'Me' truly resides within them. When an enemy stands before me, I know that the meaning of my existence is found in the moment I strike. So, come and slaughter with me! Fill the void with the world-shaking fire awakened by searing, boiling combat..."
The powerful, pure will struck Kenpachi's body and soul. He seemed to witness the life of the man named Fisher. From waking in the void to examine himself and the world, to the fated battle with Ichigo where he burned everything to ash, burying himself in that legendary duel.
Fisher's life was short and violent, pure and without regret. His Purity was off the charts.
Even Kenpachi couldn't help but be shaken. His most primal, surging battle intent was triggered; he wanted to replace Ichigo and have a grand battle with that man, Fisher...
But that emotion didn't last long. He saw that while Fisher's phantom erupted with pure battle intent, his movements were subtly... off. As he approached, he began unbuttoning his shirt to reveal his rugged muscles. The smile on his face grew increasingly fanatical and twisted, and even the music in the air took on a strange, unsettling tone.
No matter what others said, Kenpachi always believed he was a beast born for struggle. He never shied away from a strong foe and reveled in any battlefield where blood sprayed and lives were traded.
But now, Kenpachi suddenly realized his attitude toward combat wasn't that absolute. Some battles and some battlefields, despite having strong foes and passion and blood, simply didn't interest him.
Watching the phantom of Fisher undressing while opening a tub of Vaseline and smearing it on his fists, Kenpachi really wanted to ask:
Brother, is the 'combat' you're talking about... really combat? Please, it has to be!
Fisher's phantom didn't answer. He just licked his lips, his smile becoming more perverted as chrysanthemum petals began to drift down from the sky.
His heart sinking, Kenpachi—for the first time in his battle-crazed life—felt a surge of resistance. He let out a heartfelt scream:
"DON'T YOU DARE COME ANY CLOSER!!!"
Driven by that will, Kenpachi swung his fist at Fisher with unprecedented strength.
"Hi, BOY. Don't be so resistant. Tell me... do you like chrysanthemums?"
Fisher was just a phantom, but he was no pushover. With rugged, powerful fists, he met Kenpachi's battle intent, engaging in a visceral, fist-to-flesh "heart-to-heart" ♂ brawl.
This battle occurred only on the level of mind and consciousness. In reality, under the continuous combo of the phantom giants, Ichigo's physical fist followed through, striking Kenpachi square in the chest!
The 10% Absolute Realm Finisher instantly collapsed Kenpachi's chest and sent him flying into the distance.
Looking at the blood-spitting, white-eyed, unconscious Kenpachi, Ichigo's "Powerhouse Aura" quickly retracted. He returned to his lazy posture, hands in pockets, looking like he was back on vacation.
"I hope that under Fisher's guidance, you will realize the will and Purity of a Martial Artist. I look forward to our next fight!"
Out of appreciation for Kenpachi, Ichigo's ultimate move had a special effect. Using the final punch Fisher threw as he burned out, Ichigo had extracted, interpreted, and recreated Fisher's essence, driving it all into Kenpachi's body!
Barring any accidents, Kenpachi would now engage in a fierce, grueling battle with the departed Fisher in the realm of consciousness, learning the meaning of fighting and Purity through "personal instruction."
Even when Kenpachi woke up, this battle would not stop. In every moment of daze, in his nightly dreams, Fisher would appear again and again to duel him. This would continue until Kenpachi's Purity exceeded Ichigo's current level, allowing him to dissolve the fist-print left on his chest.
It wasn't that difficult. Ichigo estimated that if Kenpachi reached 20% or 30% Absolute Realm, he could cancel out the mark left by his 10% output.
However, looking at the unconscious Kenpachi—whose limbs were twitching, and whose face occasionally showed exaggerated "Akao" expressions as if locked in a dream struggle—Ichigo felt that Kenpachi looked so "pleased" that he might not want to let go of that mark later.
Right then, a pink-haired little girl walked over. She squatted next to the unconscious Captain, poked his face with a finger, then looked up at Ichigo and smiled:
"Thank you! Ken-chan hasn't fought this hard in forever. He's even fighting in his sleep! But you're weird too... you have Ken-chan's scent on you. No, it's like you've become a bit like Ken-chan..."
Ichigo, hands in pockets, was surprised by Yachiru's sharp perception!
"You have a keen sense. Are you interested in re-classing as a Martial Artist along with Kenpachi?"
Currently, Ichigo looked normal on the surface, but beneath his skin, every muscle fiber, meridian, nerve, and bone—even his brain's neural clusters—were undergoing subtle, violent changes.
Adding a brick to the "Fighting World" by dueling Kenpachi was just a side benefit. Ichigo's true gain was Kenpachi's own "flavor." He didn't care for Kenpachi's Zanjutsu or Reiatsu usage, but the combat experience Kenpachi had etched into his instincts over a millennium was a massive treasure!
During the fight, through the Purity in his fists, Ichigo had continuously read, sensed, and analyzed it all! Finally, he replicated and devoured it, turning it into nourishment for his own growth. For a Martial Artist, every battle is a feast—a ladder leading higher up the food chain of the strong.
In a short time, Ichigo felt his body become sharper and more terrifying, as if he had survived countless wars over eons. It felt as though no matter how an enemy attacked, they would be utterly defeated by his instinctive counter.
Yachiru giggled. "Sure! If Ken-chan wants to be a Martial Artist, I'll go too. Gotta go now, I need to take Ken-chan for treatment..."
Ichigo nodded. "Go ahead. When he wakes, tell him I said thanks. Because of him, I've taken another step toward being the Strongest."
As Yachiru dragged the unconscious Kenpachi away, Ichigo continued his aimless stroll through the Seireitei, looking left and right like a tourist.
By using his own body as a battlefield against the residual power of Fisher, Ichigo kept his will and Purity in a state of peak operation and constant breakthrough. This caused various inhuman manifestations to emerge: the sheer pressure that made ordinary Soul Reapers shiver just by being near him, the ability to project his will through battle intent, and the gaze that could trace an aura back through history to glimpse past powerhouses.
Ichigo didn't care about these increasingly non-human traits. To him, they were just manifestations of Purity. If Purity is low, you can do nothing; if Purity is high, all things are possible!
As he walked, the long history of the Seireitei unfolded before him like a scroll. He could see the silhouettes of past champions clearly. He observed, understood, analyzed, and even "fought" them in his imagination.
To Ichigo, this trip to the Soul Society was a blissful journey of infinite surprises.
However, his eyes always drifted toward the heart of the Seireitei. Someone was waiting for him there!
Ichigo wasn't like Kenpachi; he was willing to be patient for a "Blissful Feast." By touching the history of the Soul Society, he knew that the person waiting for him was more than just a meal. It was a grand banquet made of infinite delicacies stretching to the horizon! To rush there would be a discourtesy to both himself and that person.
So, Ichigo was in no hurry. He believed that the "sweet fruits" qualified to be tasted by him would eventually be unable to help themselves and would rush toward him.
In fact, "fruit" did come looking for him, but to Ichigo's surprise, it was someone he had met once: Momo Hinamori.
Tears were still wet on her face, and her expression was hysterical. She pointed her Zanpakuto at Ichigo and demanded:
"Captain Aizen is dead! Was it you Quincies who did it!?"
Hearing that Aizen was dead, Ichigo first looked surprised, then said:
"Aizen is dead? Impossible. As my dear friend, even if Aizen were to die, he would only die by my fist. He would never die anywhere else."
The unshakeable conviction in his voice startled Hinamori. She cried:
"Captain Aizen is dead! I saw his body pinned to the wall with a blade myself! The Quincy mark was right there...!"
Ichigo's tone remained firm. "Fake. If you found the body, it must be a faked death. My dear friend Aizen must have some unavoidable reason to hide. Because I trust my friend—he would not die so quietly, and he would never die at the hands of anyone but me."
Ichigo's certainty wasn't baseless. He had sparred with Aizen and, through his extraordinary senses, glimpsed the truth beneath the surface: a powerful strength tempered a thousand times and a sharp edge hidden under a gentle mask. Such a man does not die silently.
Hinamori grew more confused. Ichigo simply walked over and patted her shoulder.
"If you don't believe me, come with me. I believe in Aizen, and Aizen will not let me down. He will only—and can only—die by my fist. Everything else is a delusion."
Ichigo's trust and sincere friendship for Aizen thoroughly moved Hinamori. She slowly lowered her blade.
Meanwhile, inside the Central 46 chambers, Aizen—glasses on—stood casually amidst a room full of corpses draped over their seats of power.
Only a few could see this truth. Occasionally, someone would enter the chambers, ignore the bodies, and stand respectfully before Aizen, taking his words as the decrees of Central 46. Under Aizen's control, Kyoka Suigetsu was powerful enough to make one doubt reality itself.
Suddenly, the holy voice fell:
"Aizen, Ichigo seems to trust you more than I thought. He doesn't believe for a second that you're dead."
Aizen pushed his glasses up, closing a Reishi projection on his palm.
"This inexplicable trust is indeed unexpected. But what interests me more is Ichigo's view on friendship... He sees me as a dear friend, yet he constantly insists that I must die by his hand. Is this also a form of 'Purity'?"
End of Chapter
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