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"Finished?"
Zaraki Kenpachi glanced down at the blood-soaked Kurosaki Ichigo, his tone laced with disdain. "It's boring. Compared to Kuchiki Shiraha, you're far behind."
With a grunt, he turned away, his Zanpakutō dragging across the stone floor with a shrill, piercing scrape before he slung it lazily across his shoulder.
"I want to win. I want to win!"
Ichigo's voice, raw and ragged, tore through the silence. He lay on the ground coughing blood, but his fingers clung desperately to his shattered blade. His eyes, however, burned with unyielding determination, refusing to let Zaraki's back be the last thing he saw.
Before Zaraki could take another step, Ichigo's broken Zanpakutō glimmered faintly and then, impossibly, restored itself to its original form. Ichigo staggered to his feet, hoisting the sword across his back as his reiatsu surged with wild intensity. His bleeding slowed, wounds closing in defiance of reality.
In a heartbeat, his spiritual pressure roared upward, swelling to captain-class strength.
"What…? That reiatsu. The volatility that vanished before has returned?" Zaraki stopped, his single eye widening with interest. He turned slowly, sensing Ichigo's reiatsu spiking higher with every passing second, his wounds knitting closed as though sheer will alone rejected death.
"Pfft!"
Ichigo flashed forward, his blade carving into Zaraki's shoulder. Blood burst free, spattering across the ground.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Before Zaraki had time to register the blow, Ichigo pressed his assault, his Zanpakutō lashing out in a relentless flurry. The clash of steel filled the air, sparks exploding between them as Ichigo forced Zaraki back step by step.
For the first time, the tide shifted.
Zaraki blocked one stroke, but Ichigo's follow-up cut raked across his left shoulder, tearing another wound that spilled crimson freely. The force of the blow sent him crashing back, tumbling more than ten meters before his feet dug into the ground.
"Sorry," Ichigo said, his voice steady with conviction. "I can't waste any more time. I'll finish this now."
Zaraki's lips stretched into a savage grin. "Hahaha! Finish me in one strike, is that it? Now you're making my blood boil. Finally—it's getting interesting!"
His laughter echoed, wild and unrestrained. He paid no attention to the blood streaking down his chest; instead his reiatsu erupted outward in a violent wave. With his blade in hand, he charged straight toward Ichigo, hunger for battle burning in his eye.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Their swords clashed again and again, sparks exploding across the Repentance Palace walls. Ichigo's strikes occasionally slipped through, cutting into Zaraki's flesh. In mere seconds, his body bore several new wounds.
Yet far from weakening him, each slash only made Zaraki's exhilaration grow.
"Damn it!" Ichigo thought, sweat running down his face as his blade locked against Zaraki's once more. "I've cut him again and again, but he still won't fall. What kind of monster is this man?"
On the walls above, Yachiru Kusajishi sat with her legs swinging, her eyes shining with excitement. "Ken-chan finally found a worthy opponent," she murmured softly, smiling as she watched the clash.
"Yachiru."
A familiar voice drifted behind her. She turned to see Shiraha standing there with Yoruichi in his arms, while Kira Izuru appeared quietly at his side.
"Ah, Shiraha! You came too," Yachiru said brightly.
Shiraha gave a small smile. "Yes. I sensed Captain Zaraki's reiatsu here, so I came to see."
He had not forgotten his mission. His check-in task required that Kenpachi and Ichigo fight until one emerged victorious. Only then could he complete it.
"Captain Zaraki, what's this? You look miserable. Being pushed so hard by just a ryoka." Shiraha called out with a teasing grin.
"Hah! Kuchiki Shiraha," Zaraki barked back, his expression twisting into something feral. "Are you trying to interfere with my fight too?"
Ichigo, panting and bloodied, lifted his head. His eyes flickered with surprise as he saw Yoruichi cradled in Shiraha's arms. "Mr. Shiraha? And Yoruichi… why are you with him?"
Yoruichi had told him before that Shiraha had no ties to them. Seeing her now at his side left Ichigo shaken, confusion gnawing at him even amidst battle.
Shiraha's smile remained cold. "Captain Zaraki, if it takes you this long to deal with one ryoka, perhaps I should step in and end this farce myself."
The task required the fight to reach a conclusion. It had never said outsiders could not intervene.
"No!" Yachiru suddenly dropped in front of Shiraha, her small frame taut with uncharacteristic seriousness. "This is Ken-chan's fight. I won't let anyone interfere."
For Zaraki Kenpachi's battles, Yachiru would never allow an outsider's hand.
"Bakudō 61. Rikujōkōrō!"
Light surged from Shiraha's raised hand. Six rods of yellow energy pinned Yachiru in place, wrapping around her small body and freezing her where she stood.
Pink reiatsu exploded from her in defiance, her body straining to break free. Cracks began to splinter across the glowing restraints as she fought against them.
"Kira, I'll leave her to you." Shiraha turned with a faint smile.
"Understood, Captain Shiraha." Izuru stepped forward, seized Yachiru gently but firmly, and in a burst of shunpo carried her hundreds of meters away.
Shiraha raised his palm. "Hadō 90. Kurohitsugi!"
Black energy surged, forming a massive cube of darkness around Zaraki, its edges lined with countless blades of compressed reiatsu.
At the same time, lightning crackled in Shiraha's other hand. "Hadō 63. Raikōhō!"
A golden storm of lightning thundered outward, exploding toward Ichigo.
The Repentance Palace walls shook violently as the spells detonated. Stone collapsed for hundreds of meters around Ichigo, who dropped to one knee, his body lacerated by dozens of wounds, blood streaming down his frame. His sword trembled in his grip, his breath ragged.
Inside the black coffin, blades pierced flesh again and again. The cube dissolved, revealing Zaraki staggering forward, his body riddled with deep slashes, blood soaking his torn uniform. At last his strength gave way, and he fell heavily to the ground, crimson pooling beneath him.
"Kuchiki Shiraha!" he roared hoarsely before consciousness left him, rage etched across his face.
Shiraha's eyes narrowed. Even after all that, Zaraki had only collapsed from blood loss. His reiatsu remained ferocious, nearly on par with Ichigo's, and yet he had endured the Black Coffin's devastation. His life force was monstrous.
Ichigo, by contrast, had been broken completely by a single Raikōhō. The difference between them was too vast.
With Yoruichi in his arms, Shiraha appeared in a blur of shunpo before the battered Ichigo. He looked down at him, his eyes calm.
"Mr. Shiraha… why?" Ichigo coughed blood, his voice hoarse with confusion. "Why stop me? I only wanted to save Rukia…"
Shiraha's smile curved faintly, his voice low and merciless. "Why? Because you are too weak, Kurosaki Ichigo. Weakness is your original sin."
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