That faint scent of alcohol was no illusion.
During the clash earlier, some poor bastard's flask had shattered.
Zaraki was not the type to be picky.
With a casual flick of his left hand, the remaining Spiritual Pressure threads wrapped around the fallen sabers on the deck dissipated completely.
Then, as if following the scent, Zaraki stepped over the splintered planks and pulled an unopened bottle of rum from the wreckage of the shattered cabin.
With a pop, he bit the cork free and spat it carelessly onto the sawdust-covered deck.
Tilting his head back, he took a long, hearty swig.
The burning liquor slid into his stomach, sweeping away the hollow weakness left behind by overexertion and dulling the throbbing pain from the swelling on his forehead.
"Ha—!"
He breathed out a warm gust laced with the smell of alcohol, then casually tossed the half-finished bottle toward the figure collapsed amid the wreckage.
"Here. Take it as thanks."
The bottle traced a clean arc through the air.
From inside the ruins, a large bloodstained hand lifted with a faint tremor and caught it firmly.
Onigumo leaned against the shattered cabin wall, his Vice Admiral's coat torn and smeared with dust and blood.
He glanced first at the bottle in his hand, then at the young man standing in the sunlight while wiping the corner of his mouth, and something complicated appeared on his sinister face.
The other side had not taken the chance to finish him off, nor had he humiliated him after winning.
The satisfaction in those eyes was pure, almost childishly simple, like a diner who had just finished an especially satisfying feast.
"A thank-you gift, huh..."
Onigumo let out a bitter laugh, only for the movement to tug at his broken ribs and make the muscles around his eyes twitch from pain.
He no longer cared about maintaining any trace of Marine decorum.
Raising the bottle, he took a fierce gulp.
The strong liquor washed the taste of blood and metal from his mouth, and the sting only made his mind clearer.
"Cough, cough..." Onigumo lowered the bottle.
The disdain that had once filled his eyes was gone, replaced by the kind of look one gave a monster, mixed with caution and deep regret.
'To possess strength like this at his age, together with that kind of battle instinct... if this boy had gone through real training at the Headquarters, then within ten years he would probably have secured a place among the Admirals.'
"Hey, kid."
Onigumo wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth.
His voice was weak, but there was a seriousness in it that had never been there before.
"That way of dragging up fallen blades to fight for you, and that last move, chaotic as it was but still deadly... who taught you? Even in the New World, I've never heard of a sword technique like that, are you a Devil fruit user?"
The moment those words were spoken, Zoro, who had still been trapped in shock, immediately pricked up his ears.
He stared hard at Zaraki's back, gripping Wado Ichimonji so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.
That was the answer he wanted to know too!
Everything Zaraki had shown in that fight had overturned Zoro's understanding of swordsmanship.
Those were techniques born for killing, with not one bit of useless decoration mixed in.
Zaraki rolled his stiff neck slightly, and a strange look crossed his face at the question.
'A teacher?'
If Kenpachi Zaraki ever heard someone call his way of slaughter a "technique," he would probably laugh himself to death!
"Nah, I'm not a devil fruit user, besides.... does something like that even need teaching?"
Zaraki cast Onigumo a casual glance and spoke as if he were stating the most obvious thing in the world.
"If you want to cut someone and one sword isn't enough, then you grab more. If the swords run out, you use your head. As long as you can kill the enemy, then every part of your body is a blade."
His words drifted over the deck on the sea breeze, sounding more like some twisted heresy than a proper doctrine.
Onigumo froze, the bottle he had been lifting stopping halfway to his mouth.
Zoro's jaw fell open even farther, and it was obvious that the foundations of his world had just been kicked sideways.
"Talent... battle talent..." Onigumo muttered to himself, and at that moment he genuinely wanted to slap himself.
He had actually tried to judge a madman by normal standards.
A person who treated life-and-death combat like instinct itself could never be trained into shape by any teacher.
Just then, the pale blue screen that only Zaraki could see popped up again in front of his eyes.
[Battle Settlement Complete]
[Defeated Opponent: Marine Headquarters Vice Admiral · Onigumo]
[Rating: An Exhilarating Crush (Though it ended with a headbutt)]
[Original Template Unlock Progress: +0.9%]
[Current Total Progress: 13.9%]
[System Points Obtained: 500 Points]
The moment his eyes landed on that progress bar stuck at the disgusting number 13.9%, the muscles in Zaraki's cheek twitched.
This damned System was doing it on purpose!
Just 0.1% away from a clean number, just enough to drive anyone insane, and it had to stop right there!
'Petty bastard.'
Zaraki cursed inwardly, then opened the System Shop with a thought.
He had assumed defeating a Vice Admiral would trigger something worthwhile, but the interface remained dead as a graveyard.
Other than a few basic Spiritual Pressure Recovery Potions and ordinary Asauchi, the rows of gray [Locked] icons were enough to make his eyes hurt.
It looked as though the refresh conditions for the Shop were not based only on who he beat.
There were probably other triggers, or maybe that damned progress bar had still not reached whatever threshold it needed.
"Tch. Stingy."
Zaraki closed the interface in disappointment, and the golden glimmer in his eyes faded completely as he returned to looking like that lazy black-haired boy again.
The fight was over, the reward had been collected—though it was pathetic—and the only thing left was figuring out how to end this cleanly.
He turned around, about to call to the still-dazed Carina and Zoro and tell them to retreat, when behind him Onigumo, supported by two Marines, struggled back to his feet through the ruins.
The badly injured Vice Admiral showed no anger, nor did he call for reinforcements.
He only drew in a slow breath and fixed Zaraki with an unwavering stare, as though he had finally made some difficult decision.
"Zaraki... that's your name, right?"
Onigumo pushed away the Marines supporting him and staggered forward one step, his voice low and hoarse.
His eyes never left Zaraki.
Even though his body swayed badly, the imposing presence of a Marine Headquarters Vice Admiral still lingered.
He took another breath, his chest producing a wheezing sound like a broken bellows, as though he were forcing down the pain of shattered bones.
"With your strength, staying hidden in a weak sea like East Blue is a complete waste."
Onigumo raised his good hand and pointed toward the sea beyond the wrecked battlefield, toward a direction that lay far past the horizon.
There was an unusual urgency in his expression now.
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