Chapter 244 – 244 ⥤ Kenpachi

“Come, let’s fight!”

Inside the 11th Division’s quarters, Zaraki shouldered his serrated blade, a ferocious grin spreading across his face as he fixed his narrow pupils on Akira with fierce anticipation.

Ever since defeating the Reigai of Jin’nemon and Shinji, his confidence had soared to new heights.

It was time to challenge someone even stronger — time for a real battle!

Akira stroked his chin, his expression turning peculiar.

Had he been stirring up the Kenpachis’ nest lately?

First, he had slain Kenpachi Sōya, then received a stargazing invitation from the 1st Kenpachi, and now this wild madman was challenging him to combat.

Everyone knew that Unohana, though appearing gentle, was ruthless in battle — striking to kill with every move, her style not unlike Zaraki’s.

Stargazing was merely a pretense. That woman clearly had her sights set on him!

Contemplating the evening’s appointment, Akira’s gaze toward Zaraki took on a dangerous glint, “Since you’ve delivered yourself to my doorstep, don’t blame me for being rough!”

Whether influenced by the 11th Division’s atmosphere, Yama-jii’s ways, or Unohana’s presence, he had come to relish this direct approach.

Under Zaraki’s eager watch, Akira accepted the challenge. They made their way to the combat arena — a structure reinforced 369 times by Kisuke and Mayuri.

The circular metal structure gleamed silver, coated with Sekkiseki-based paint and inscribed with countless binding Bakudō. Kisuke’s specially designed barriers neutralized shockwaves, making the arena both durable and impenetrable.

Division members resting from training gathered around as the familiar pair entered the arena. Like true bloodthirsty spectators, they wouldn’t dare miss such a spectacle.

“Hooh, another battle between strong ones!”

“As expected of Lord Magistrate, so powerful!”

“Captain humiliates Zaraki, Captain is invincible!”

On the platform, Akira listened to the excited roars, holding his head high with pride.

Not bad at all! When it came to prestige within the 11th Division, this Captain stood supreme!

Zaraki ignored the spectators, adjusting his Zanpakutō. His bloodthirsty smile remained as his presence turned fierce — a hungry beast spotting its prey.

Let’s fight!

Golden Reiatsu erupted around his tall, lean frame like fierce flames, unleashing waves of raw pressure.

Even through the Bakudō’s protection, the watching division members froze momentarily before excitement took hold.

Witnessing a battle between the mighty was the greatest reward for these combat-loving warriors.

Zaraki’s serrated blade rose and fell like a hammer. Fighting on pure instinct, without technique, his continuous strikes created a dazzling curtain of light, surrounding his opponent while sending brilliant sparks flying as the air itself seemed to scream.

Akira stood unmoved, like a mountain. Wielding his Zanpakutō, he deflected every flash of steel without showing the slightest strain.

Zaraki’s talent was undeniable — years of battle had made him far stronger than when he first joined the 11th Division.

Yet his opponent’s power was beyond measure. Zaraki’s impressive strength proved ineffective, his violent attacks like a mud ox entering the sea — unable to create even a ripple.

The madman’s smile grew more ferocious. Gripping his serrated blade with both hands, muscles bulging, he summoned a wild torrent of Reiatsu that crashed down around him.

⤫ Ryōdan ⥤ Bisection! ⤬

The strike unleashed unprecedented shock waves across the arena, howling winds creating an apocalyptic scene!

Dust exploded outward as the ground creaked ominously. The surrounding Bakudō barriers rippled visibly. Every observer held their breath, eyes fixed on the swirling dust cloud, desperate not to miss a single detail.

Just when everyone thought their Captain had been blown apart by Zaraki, the dust was blasted away by powerful Reiatsu, and a muscular figure reappeared on the combat platform.

“Too slow, too slow!” Akira held his blade with one hand, blocking the other’s full-power strike without changing expression, “Your power has grown stronger, but what use is that if you can’t hit your opponent? Your instinct is too primitive — like a wild beast bearing its fangs and claws — completely useless against true wisdom.”

This fighting style of Zaraki’s was something he could easily handle even when he first became a student of the Genryū Style.

In truth, the current Kenpachi Zaraki was merely a weaker version of himself. That’s exactly why Akira could easily break down his attack patterns and counter them effortlessly.

Back then, Genryūsai had recognized this same flaw in Akira. Through countless brutal beatings, he had shattered Akira’s carefully cultivated habits and forged a new fighting method.

Of course, there were drawbacks — most notably that Akira’s current fighting style closely resembled a certain white-bearded old man’s.

The fault lay primarily with Yama-jii, not with him. Yes, that’s right.

Akira’s mouth twitched as he decided it was time to pass on the suffering he had endured. Since he had weathered the storm, it was time to strip away others’ shelter.

With a single vibration of his sword, he sent Zaraki flying.

Akira’s head swayed side to side with spine-chilling cracks, his voice carrying unmistakable pleasure as his mouth curved into a savage grin.

“Come, Zaraki. Let me teach you how to become a proper king! First, you must learn the difference between a king and a steed!”

Watching the transformed man, Zaraki’s facial muscles trembled, his smile taking on a hint of madness.

Though he didn’t grasp the Captain’s words, his soul’s instinct told him — this fight would be exhilarating!

Akira removed his Captain’s haori, casually tore through the Bakudō barrier, and tossed it down, sparking an instant scramble among the onlookers.

A certain orange-haired sister proved more nimble, using her grey cat’s advantage to snatch the haori.

The battle resumed above.

Having shed one limitation, Akira radiated an invincible aura. With each movement, even a casual stroke of his blade could obliterate Zaraki.

Yet since he fought with a teacher’s mindset, even though the madman was now drenched in blood like a dying demon, he could still maintain his fighting stance.

Truly, he deserved his reputation as the monster who defeated the 1st Kenpachi. Though simple-minded and reliant on brute force, the instinct flowing through his blood was genuine — like a sponge absorbing water.

Even as Akira mercilessly destroyed his attack patterns, he could quickly develop even stronger instincts.

Very good, very spirited.

Akira finally understood the old man’s perspective over the years. Having a genius disciple who learned quickly and easily was truly a blessing.

Though Zaraki’s talent was impressive, compared to Akira himself, there remained quite a gap. No wonder Yama-jii sighed all day — he lamented being unable to find another genius surpassing himself.

Well then, time to carry on the will of the Genryū Style!

With one explosive strike, he shattered Zaraki’s serrated blade. Before the man could react, a fist came rushing in, filling his entire world.

Boom!!

With a thunderous crash, the madman’s body flew backward, plowing a deep furrow before slamming into the Bakudō barrier, sliding down slowly while trailing thick blood.

Akira blew on his fist — though there was no dust to blow away — his flame-burning eyes sweeping the arena as he brazenly declared:

“Today, let this Captain teach you all what real combat means. Everyone, come at me!”

The bloodthirsty spectators’ faces lit up with excitement, and without hesitation, they drew their swords and charged into the battlefield.

“Fighting is awesome!”

⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬

1st Division, Tea Room.

Genryūsai frowned at the dignified woman across from him, his deep voice resonating:

“Captain Unohana, are you certain about this?”

Unohana nodded slightly, explaining softly, “This is my only chance in this lifetime. If I miss it, I will surely regret it forever.”

Hearing this, Genryūsai said nothing more, silently taking out a key and placing it on the tea table.

As he watched her take the key without hesitation and turn to leave, he let out a helpless sigh. Sometimes, when juniors grow too quickly, it proves challenging for their seniors.

Hopefully nothing will go wrong this time…

⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬

After thoroughly defeating the entire division during the day, Akira changed into fresh attire for the evening, styled his hair appropriately, and arrived precisely on time for his invitation.

This time, however, the moon-viewing location wasn’t at the 4th Division. Instead, it was set near the Inner Court, close to the Government District.

Akira had no objections, though he wondered if their moon-viewing activities might become too vigorous and affect the Underground Assembly Hall or Senzaikyū. That wouldn’t be pleasant.

He hoped this term’s Central 46 was resilient enough.

With anticipation building, he arrived at the Inner Court.

Just then, Unohana, dressed in white, approached from the direction of the 1st Division.

“Akira-kun, please follow me.”

Leading him, she walked into the depths of the Inner Court, passing through layer upon layer of Bakudō barriers and crossing numerous security checkpoints.

Finally, under his puzzled gaze, she opened the passage to the deepest underground prison.

Looking at the vaguely familiar surroundings, Akira pondered thoughtfully, understanding dawning on him.

⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬

8º Level of the Underground Prison — Mugen.

Looking at the man before her, Unohana revealed a gentle smile, her eyes betraying traces of unbridled anticipation.

To be honest, she hadn’t expected Akira to grow so quickly. Just a few years ago, he was still struggling to survive under her Death Sword Style, but in the blink of an eye, he had grown to a level that even she had to take seriously.

Ever since hearing that her replica had fallen to him in mere three strikes, she realized that if she didn’t face him with everything she had now, she might never get another chance.

This time, it would be a true battle of life and death!

Akira examined the slender figure before him, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

She wore a white captain’s haori over a black Shihakushō, a light-colored sash at her waist, her long hair tied in front with a red hair tie into a braid that concealed infinite depths. Her smile was gentle and warm.

Just looking at her like this gave one the feeling of a spring breeze, making one want to take her home as a wife.

Watching her gaze shift from peaceful to gradually cold and cruel, he smiled.

“Sister Retsu, you’re not thinking of—”

Before he could finish, she interrupted mercilessly, “Naturally, it’s what I’ve wanted to do all along.”

Hearing this, Akira grinned, saying nothing more.

Things had become so obvious — if he still couldn’t understand, he’d be unworthy of being called Soul Society’s wisest person.

At such close distance, he clearly sensed that behind that gentle smile lurked an increasingly unhideable murderous intent, like some ravenous beast.

Heavy, viscous killing intent spread freely throughout Mugen, as if mountains of corpses and seas of blood lay ahead, the cold murderous air nearly solidifying.

Shing—

The moment the sword-drawing sound rang out, Unohana moved.

Her toes barely touched the ground as the white figure gracefully flitted through the darkness, like a dancing swan, launching a deadly strike toward the burst of blade light ahead.

Clang!!

At the moment of metal clash, brilliant sparks scattered.

The long sword in her hand suddenly stalled, surprisingly falling to disadvantage during the probing exchange.

Bang!

Without preamble, the brief collision gave way to a display of magnificent swordsmanship.

The Death Sword Style — created by Unohana after absorbing the essence of countless schools — flowed freely within Mugen. Her frenzied offensive struck relentlessly at vital points: heart, throat, chest cavity, spine…

This was not just the ultimate sword technique, but the supreme art to which she had devoted her life!

Against these exquisite sword techniques, any other opponent would have fallen or suffered grievous wounds. But Akira had made these techniques his instinct, matching her skill for skill.

In mastery of this sword style, he stood as her equal — perhaps even her superior.

Each complex technique she launched, he not only saw through but turned into an opening for counterattack.

“As expected…” Unohana smiled, “You no longer need me to hold back now.”

The coldness beneath her gentle facade emerged fully, unleashing dangerous instincts that had long lain dormant — so potent they made even Akira pause.

Yet his hesitation stemmed not from fear, but from pure excitement for the battle ahead.

A gentle murmur echoed through the darkness, reaching his ears as terrifying Reiatsu suddenly surged and exploded:

“Bankai…”

⤫⤬⤫

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