"I have to admit…"
"Compared to Kuchiki-taichō, Hitsugaya-taichō, or even myself…"
"Kenpachi Zaraki's fighting style is something else entirely—far more brutal and unrestrained."
"No wonder that Arrancar was scared half to death just from facing him."
Inside the Eighth Division, Shunsui Kyōraku gently set down his teacup, his expression thoughtful.
Even he couldn't help but feel a chill watching that man fight.
Because throughout every scene that had been shown so far—
Kenpachi's sword, chipped and scarred as it was, had never once been heard calling its name.
Not once!
That meant…
Even in that future battle, Kenpachi still hadn't relied on his Zanpakutō's release.
He was fighting at base strength.
And even then, his power was overwhelming.
Shunsui exhaled slowly, his fingers brushing against the cup.
"Just imagining what'll happen once that monster learns to release his sword…"
He felt a bead of cold sweat slide down his temple.
"…is terrifying."
He took another quick sip of tea, trying to calm himself.
"Judging from Kenpachi's temperament," Ukitake Jūshirō said with a soft cough, "and his entire way of fighting…"
"…if he does awaken that Zanpakutō of his, 'Nozarashi,' then I'd wager it'll be a pure slashing-type blade."
He smiled faintly, the light in his eyes clear and sharp.
Everyone knew Zanpakutō had many elemental classifications—
Fire, Ice, Wind, Water, and so on.
Each reflected the soul of its wielder.
So given Kenpachi's style—
swing, slash, and nothing else—
…it only made sense that even his awakened form would be the same: pure, destructive, straightforward power.
"A slash-type release, huh? Sounds right," Shunsui chuckled wryly.
"But even if it only changes shape—" he paused, frowning slightly— "that one swing would probably be enough to tear open the sky."
Just the thought made him choke on his tea.
There was no denying it.
Kenpachi Zaraki was a monster in human skin.
And his Zanpakutō—Nozarashi—would be a weapon beyond comprehension.
Meanwhile—
in the continuing footage—
the savage duel raged on.
Blood poured down Kenpachi's chest, his grin finally fading.
For the first time, his expression grew serious.
"Man…"
"This isn't getting me anywhere."
He rolled his neck, cracking the bones, and muttered to himself, almost lazily:
"I guess it's about time… I used kendō."
The word hung in the air—
and across the world, the viewing audience erupted.
"Kendō?!"
Inside the Fourth Division, Unohana Retsu's eyes suddenly gleamed.
Her calm, maternal expression gave way to a spark of excitement.
So it was that time, then.
That mysterious day when the Captain-Commander had summoned Kenpachi alone to the First Division for private training…
Unohana remembered hearing rumors.
Kenpachi had gone, stayed for days, and returned silent.
He never spoke of it.
No one dared ask.
But now, the truth seemed clear—
He'd learned kendō.
And for Unohana, once known as the greatest swordswoman in Soul Society, that revelation brought a rare smile to her face.
She leaned forward slightly, her voice soft but eager.
"Show me, Zaraki… just how far you've come."
Back in the video—
Kenpachi lifted his blade.
The muscles in his arms flexed, veins standing out beneath blood-slick skin.
He glanced up, eyes blazing with violent joy.
"Hey, Arrancar…"
"You probably don't know this…"
"But when you swing a sword with two hands—"
He raised his other hand, placing it firmly over the hilt.
"…it's a hell of a lot stronger than one."
The moment both hands gripped the sword, the air itself trembled.
Nnoitra froze.
Even the spectators—watching from their safe distance through the video—
felt an invisible pressure bear down on their chests.
"This feeling… damn it!"
Inside Las Noches, the real Nnoitra broke into a cold sweat, panic flashing across his face.
He wanted to shout, to stop what was about to happen—
but it was too late.
On-screen, the future version of himself was charging forward, screaming in defiance—
and Kenpachi was already in motion.
His eyes gleamed like gold.
Both hands gripped the sword.
And then—
he swung.
"SHAAA!!!"
A roaring golden arc tore through the desert.
The sand exploded outward.
The sky split open.
A blinding pillar of light surged upward, swallowing everything in its path.
Clouds shattered.
The white dunes shook violently, waves of sand towering hundreds of meters into the air.
A golden waterfall of sword energy crashed forward—
unstoppable, merciless—
engulfing Nnoitra completely.
For one instant, there was only silence.
And then—
BOOM!
The light consumed him.
When it faded, there was nothing left.
Just the echo of Kenpachi's breath, calm and steady.
One swing.
One strike.
One kill.
The screen froze on that final image—
Nnoitra's body vanishing into the golden blaze.
The battle was over.
The farce was finished.
And as the scene faded to black, the audience everywhere fell into stunned silence.
Even among captains and Espada alike—
none dared deny it.
Zaraki Kenpachi…
was a monster no blade could kill.
(End of Chapter)
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