After downing several flasks of strong liquor, the gloom that had lingered in Renji’s eyes from his memories gave way to a burning intensity—the raw belligerence and thrill characteristic of a Squad 11 warrior.
He pushed himself up abruptly, his chair legs screeching harshly against the stone floor and drawing another round of glances from neighboring tables.
Renji didn’t care in the slightest, practically vibrating with the urge to fight.
“Hey, Yanagawa!
Drinking alone is boring!” He smacked Zabimaru at his waist with a firm hand, sending a low hum through the scabbard.
“Let’s have a match!
Let me see what you’ve actually accomplished in the Kidō Corps these past ten years!
Don’t tell me all that Kidō of yours is only good for unlocking doors and fixing barriers!”
Yanagawa set down his sake cup and looked up at his aggressive friend.
The alcohol made Renji’s Spiritual Pressure bleed outward even more than usual, radiating the distinct, scorching heat of Squad 11.
He could feel the battle intent in Renji’s words; it was simply Renji Abarai’s way of showing he cared, as well as the most direct means to test how much they had each grown over the years.
“Oh?” Far from intimidated by the sudden challenge, a faint spark of interest flickered in Yanagawa’s eyes.
Truth be told, he was curious to see how far the red-haired youth had come—the one who had constantly scratched his head in frustration during Kidō class, only to shine in combat through sheer willpower and feral instinct.
Just how much had he sharpened himself by now?
“Here?”
“Of course not!” Renji waved a dismissive hand.
“We’re going to the Squad 11 training grounds!
There’s plenty of space, it’s sturdy, and we can go as hard as we want!”
Without giving him a chance to object, Renji snatched the bill off the table, tossed the payment to the shopkeeper, and grabbed Yanagawa by the arm, dragging him toward the door.
“Come on, move it!
Let me see if our former honor student has gotten rusty or not!”
Yanagawa let himself be pulled along.
A wry smile tugged at his lips, though his steps didn’t falter.
*Well, it wouldn’t hurt to stretch my limbs,* he thought.
Besides, he wanted to see firsthand the caliber of the fighters serving as the backbone of the Seireitei’s combat division.
The Squad 11 barracks were located toward the outer edges of the Seireitei.
The architectural style was rough and unrefined, lacking the elegance seen in other squad divisions, yet it exuded an unmistakable, raw aura of might.
Even before stepping through the gates, one could faintly hear the shouts, the clashing of blades, and unrestrained roars and wild laughter.
The Reishi permeating the air felt far more turbulent and agitated than anywhere else.
The training ground was a vast open expanse of packed dirt, bordered by numerous battered, splintered training posts.
Dozens of Shinigami were sparring in the yard, the clashes heated and chaotic.
There were no elegant katas or strict courtesies here—only the direct collision of brute strength and the crude crushing of Spiritual Pressure.
Every combatant relied on idiosyncratic, brutally practical brawling techniques aimed solely at incapacitating their opponent in the shortest time possible.
The scent of blood and sweat mingled with the swirling dust, cultivating a savage, feverish atmosphere.
When Renji and his eye-catching crimson hair strode into the training ground dragging the unfamiliar Yanagawa behind him, heads immediately turned.
“Hm?” “Who’s that?” “Someone from the Kidō Corps?” “Eighth Seat Renji brought him?”
Curious stares converged on them at once.
Those mid-spar slowed their exchanges, and the squad members resting on the sidelines, tending to wounds or cheering, ceased what they were doing.
Dozens of heavy gazes bore into Yanagawa with undisguised scrutiny.
In Squad 11, strength was the absolute law, whereas the Kidō Corps…
to them, was practically synonymous with “weaklings” and “desk jockeys.”
“Yo, Renji!” boomed a burly, bald man.
“Who’s this pretty boy?
Where’d you pick him up?
Don’t tell me the Captain-Commander thought our training was too rough and sent someone with healing Kidō to patch us up!
Haha!”
His taunt drew a chorus of raucous laughter from the crowd.
“Shut it, Madarame!” Renji snapped back, though there was no real malice in his voice; banter like this was clearly the norm in Squad 11.
“This is Yanagawa.
We were classmates back at the Shin’ō Academy, and now he’s with the Kidō Corps.” He placed particular emphasis on “classmates” and “Kidō Corps.”
“A classmate?” Another man leaning against the wall with an eccentric hairstyle raised an eyebrow, his critical gaze sweeping over Yanagawa.
“Doesn’t look like much of a fighter.
What’d you bring him here for, Renji?
A tour?”
“Can it!” Renji walked over to a relatively open clearing in the center of the grounds.
He turned, facing Yanagawa as well as every pair of watching eyes, and bellowed with sheer excitement:
“I’m having a spar with this guy!
All of you, back off and keep your eyes open!”
“A spar?” “Eighth Seat Renji’s gonna fight a Kidō Corps guy?” “Now that’s interesting…”
“Hey, Renji, don’t break him!
It’ll be a real pain if the Kidō Corps comes knocking to complain!”
A clamor erupted around the sidelines, a rowdy mixture of curiosity and jeering.
“Right here?” Yanagawa confirmed once more, his gaze sweeping over the Squad 11 members eagerly anticipating a good show.
“Right here!” Renji took up a combat stance, his right hand resting on Zabimaru’s hilt.
His Spiritual Pressure began to rise, radiating scorching heat.
“Don’t worry about them, these bastards have thick skin!
It won’t hurt ’em!
And don’t you dare hold back just because we’re in Squad 11, Yanagawa!
Let me see what you’re really made of!”
Yanagawa said no more.
He stood quietly without unleashing any violent surge of Spiritual Pressure, yet an aura as serene as still water…
…naturally rippled outward with him at the center, gently parting Renji’s scorching, combat-hungry pressure.
He raised a hand, his tone calm.
“Let’s have a good match, Renji.”