Zaraki was still lying on the ground.
Gosuke Shigure had already released the hold of Bakudō that restrained him.
Zaraki tried to swing his broken blade once he found himself free, but after raising his arm halfway, he stopped. The urge to fight Shigure had faded. Rather than crossing swords again, he now wanted to fight even stronger opponents — the kind that Shigure had promised awaited him in Seireitei.
"Are you sure you don't need to treat your injury?"
Shigure sat cross-legged beside him, his expression calm as he watched the wounded warrior.
Zaraki gave a wide, toothy grin. "No. It'll heal soon enough. My body's used to it. Just like my sword — give it a little time and it'll be whole again. Don't ask me why; that's just how it's always been."
Shigure nodded slightly. "I see."
It was no secret among the shinigami that a Zanpakutō damaged in its sealed state — or even in its Shikai — could gradually restore itself. Kurosaki Ichigo's Zanpakutō, for instance, had been shattered countless times yet always returned to form not long after.
However, there existed one exception — when a Zanpakutō was damaged during Bankai.
The Bankai was a Zanpakutō's complete liberation, its true form revealed in full. In that state, the weapon's power increased exponentially, but so did its vulnerability. A blade broken during Bankai would suffer true damage that could never be reversed.
Few shinigami understood that. Those who even achieved Bankai were rare to begin with. Most who did never delved deep enough into its secrets to know its limits.
But Shigure was different. He knew because he had lived far longer than most — because he was not of this world's time. His reincarnation had given him knowledge beyond what any ordinary shinigami possessed.
Still, compared to Zaraki's self-healing sword, what impressed him far more was the man's sheer physical resilience.
"What a monster…" he murmured inwardly.
Despite the deep wounds carved across his body, Zaraki's bleeding had already stopped. The torn flesh had begun to close on its own. With no medical aid, his recovery was nearly complete.
If he were to receive treatment, it would likely be instantaneous.
No wonder this man had survived the chaos of Rukongai for so many years without falling. His raw strength was only part of it — his body itself was a weapon, hardened by countless battles.
Shigure stayed with him for a while longer, waiting for his wounds to mend.
He had little choice.
After all, Shigure didn't know a single healing technique.
In Kidō, he was a master of Hadō and Bakudō, capable of both destruction and restraint — but Kaidō, the art of healing, was a different discipline altogether, one he had never learned.
As for his Zanpakutō, its lightning-based powers were made for offense, not restoration. Well — not entirely. It could be used to jump-start a dying heart or stimulate the body's energy flow in emergencies, but Zaraki was very much alive. And Shigure wasn't about to start testing experimental "treatments" on him.
He sighed quietly. 'By the way, I really should visit Unohana Retsu one of these days,' he thought. "And learn a bit of Kaidō from her."
After all, mastering something new was never a bad thing. Especially a technique as useful as healing.
The Eleventh Division was a combat unit — its members were constantly injured. Relying entirely on the Fourth Division for treatment wasn't sustainable. If the medics ever arrived too late, the wounded would die before they could be saved.
Knowing even a few basic healing methods could make the difference between life and death on the battlefield.
No — it would come in handy.
Like right now, for instance. If Shigure knew Kaidō, he wouldn't have to wait beside Zaraki for his wounds to close naturally.
Or that day during the battle with Kenpachi Azashiro — if he'd known the healing Kidō then, he wouldn't have had to drag the man to the Fourth Division with Shunsui to stop him from dying.
Half a day passed.
Shigure remained beside Zaraki, patiently keeping watch.
Of course, there was a reason for his patience.
It was Zaraki, after all.
If he could convince this man to join the Eleventh Division, it would be worth every minute.
Zaraki already possessed immense strength without any formal shinigami training. Once he learned the principles of reiatsu control and proper sword technique, once he began to draw out the hidden potential within himself — he would become something even greater.
And once Shigure had such a powerful warrior under his command, he could hand over every combat mission to Zaraki and finally enjoy the peace of mind of a captain who didn't have to fight himself.
He could sit in the barracks, drink tea, and handle paperwork while his subordinate crushed hollows and enemies alike.
If it were Zaraki, he'd solve every battle perfectly.
Shigure smirked slightly at the thought.
By afternoon, Zaraki stirred. Slowly, the towering man pushed himself off the ground, testing his limbs. The deep wounds across his body had faded to scars, and the blood had dried to dark stains.
He was far from fully healed, but for him, that was enough.
Holding his broken Zanpakutō, he turned toward Shigure and said with a fierce grin, "Let's go."
"To that place you called Seireitei."
"I can't wait to meet the strong ones you talked about."
Shigure rose as well, meeting his gaze with a quiet nod.
From the Zaraki District to Seireitei lay a long road — nearly a quarter of Rukongai. It would take time, but for two men like them, it was hardly an obstacle.
Zaraki followed beside him, his steps heavy and confident. For a man who had never left his home district, every sight along the way was new.
"So, this is what the other areas look like, huh?" he said, glancing around as they passed through one of the middle districts. "Much livelier than Zaraki District. But the people here… they look weak."
Compared to the brutal, famine-stricken slums of Zaraki, these lands were peaceful. Children played in open streets. Vendors sold food under makeshift tents. The air smelled faintly of cooked rice — a luxury the souls of Zaraki had never known.
Zaraki didn't care about prosperity. His eyes darted around, searching for warriors — for anyone who might offer him a fight.
"It's much more prosperous, yeah," he muttered, "but where are the strong ones? There's no one here worth fighting."
Shigure smiled faintly. "That's only natural. The souls in the inner districts have no need to fight for food or water. In an easy life, strength withers."
"Not every district breeds fighters like yours. But in the end, they're all still ordinary souls."
He paused and looked ahead toward the distant white walls of Seireitei. "The truly strong — they're in there. Among the shinigami."
Zaraki was silent for a moment, then nodded. "That makes sense."
He already knew that the shinigami were far more powerful than the people of Rukongai.
And Seireitei — the heart of the Soul Society — was where all the strongest gathered.
*****
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✓ Killed For 100 Years in Hueco Mundo, Aizen Invited Me To Soul Society!
✓ Naruto: Senmei Asahi
✓ Naruto: Uchiha's Intelligence Dealer
✓ Naruto: The Fifth Hokage Is Naruto's Uncle
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✓ To Love-Ru: Spoiler Route [R-18]
✓ Naruto: The Accidental Incubus [R-18]