Zaraki Kenpachi vs. Aizen
After thousands of failures, the Super Hound Project was finally complete.
Its original purpose was to capture Shiraishi.
Now, priorities had shifted.
"Compared to Shiraishi, the Muken escapee poses a greater threat," Yamamoto Genryūsai declared. He prioritized eliminating the most dangerous criminals before addressing lesser threats.
"Captain-Commander…" Kurotsuchi Mayuri began, frustrated. He didn't care about prisoners—his obsession was Shiraishi, whose value as a research subject far surpassed anything else.
But Yamamoto would not let personal bias affect strategy. "Have Kenpachi of the Eleventh Division, Kyōraku Shunsui of the Eighth Division, and Ichimaru Gin of the Third Division track down Kiyaksha. Eliminate him before he causes further chaos!"
---
Though this order was given far away in the First Division barracks, it did not escape Zaraki Kenpachi's notice.
He sat silently on a Seireitei rooftop, the wind brushing the long, thin locks that framed his forehead.
Kenpachi's Bankai ability was fusion—not just with objects, but with space itself.
The buildings of Seireitei, the very reishi particles in the air, all became extensions of his body.
Every sound, every step, every breath of those within the Seireitei passed through him. Even the ground beneath a Shinigami's feet was his own flesh.
A normal man would go mad.
Kenpachi did not.
To him, he was simply an emotionless cog, a soldier who knew only battle.
"Hahaha! A pervert who enjoys being stepped on and spying on others, pretending to be some emotionless cog!"
A mocking laugh echoed, accompanied by sharp words.
A woman appeared—a white kimono draped across her body, a black silk ribbon blindfolding her eyes, her collar lined with gold diamonds. A golden necklace glinted at her throat, her robe open to reveal her chest. Despite her elegance, her expression was wild, exaggerated.
This was Amedori Tsurugi, Kenpachi's Zanpakutō spirit.
Nagging. Relentless.
Kenpachi ignored her, his form already half-ethereal.
"Oh, hitting a nerve? You can't escape me—I'm your Zanpakutō," she teased, arms wrapping around his neck from behind.
Kenpachi muttered, "July 1st is coming. I have business to finish."
Her laughter rang out. "I know. That man."
---
In the Fifth Division barracks, Captain Aizen Sōsuke sat in his room, enjoying a moment of leisure. The door was open to the courtyard, a teapot and cups laid out.
He sensed the faint stir of reishi particles nearby, but his expression did not change. Closing his book with one hand, he turned with the calm tone of greeting an old friend:
"You are here. Would you like some tea?"
"You see? Gentle, elegant, with the air of someone destined for greatness. Unlike you—expressionless, acting like the world owes you eight million," Amedori Tsurugi sneered in Kenpachi's ear.
"Shut up," Kenpachi muttered, and the spirit vanished.
He faced Aizen directly. "You've read the reports. You know why I'm here."
"Yes." Aizen smiled. When promoted to Fifth Division Captain, he had demonstrated his Bankai before the Central 46. In truth, he had used Kyōka Suigetsu to hypnotize them all.
Thus, he leisurely accessed the records of all captains' Bankai—learning even Kenpachi's.
Kenpachi was privileged, exempt from demonstrating. But leaks happened. Yoruichi Shihōin had once learned of his Bankai through conversation, and the report had eventually reached Central 46's archives.
"I suspected from the start," Aizen said, "that Kyōka Suigetsu wouldn't work on you. If the very reishi in the air is part of your body, then you're always in contact with my blade. My illusion cannot deceive you."
Kenpachi's expression remained flat. "Exactly. Your tricks don't work. Surrender and sleep."
Kenpachi was ruthless with Hollows—but with Shinigami, unless necessary, he refrained from killing.
Aizen's glasses glinted as his expression darkened. Oppression rolled off him like thunder before a storm. "I advise you not to be so confident."
Kenpachi's voice was calm. "It seems you disagree."
Around them, mouths and arms sprouted from the walls, floors, and ceiling—a grotesque tide of reishi flesh.
Aizen remained seated, unflinching. He smiled. "If it's a fight you want, I'll fight you to the end."
The grotesque forms melted away as suddenly as they had appeared.
Kenpachi asked flatly, "You won't hinder me, then?"
"Of course not." Aizen's smile was smooth as ever. "I gathered the Espada to work for me, not to protect them. If they can't even stop you, then they were never worth keeping."
"I see." Convinced it wasn't a lie, Kenpachi lost the will to fight.
Amedori Tsurugi reappeared, mocking. "He just called you average! Said you can't destroy Hueco Mundo! Hahaha, a man named for the sword, mocked like this—how do you stomach it?"
Kenpachi ignored her. He never wasted himself on emotion. Satisfied with Aizen's answer, his form vanished.
Aizen gazed at the empty corridor, lifted his teacup, and took a sip. His eyes drifted to the sky, heavy with clouds.
The first heavy rains of summer loomed over Soul Society.
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