With Renji’s signature booming voice and the dull thud of an empty sake bottle hitting the counter, the last lingering trace of heavy atmosphere regarding the past in the tavern seemed to be dispelled by this boisterous action.
After downing a few pots of strong liquor, the gloom in Renji’s eyes, caused by memories, was replaced by a more burning brilliance—the belligerence and excitement belonging to a warrior of the Eleventh Division.
He stood up abruptly, the legs of his chair scraping harshly against the stone floor, causing patrons at nearby tables to glance over once again.
Renji didn’t mind at all; his crimson eyes stared intently at Yanagawa, and he grinned, revealing a mouthful of white teeth, his smile filled with a challenging eagerness.
“Hey, Yanagawa!
Just drinking is boring!”
He reached out and slapped the Zabimaru at his waist, the scabbard emitting a faint hum.
“Let’s have a match!
Let me see what you’ve actually accomplished in the Kido Corps over these ten years!
Don’t tell me your Kido is only good for opening doors and repairing barriers!”
Yanagawa set down his sake cup and looked up at his aggressive friend.
The alcohol made Renji’s spiritual pressure more outward than usual, carrying that unique burning sensation of the Eleventh Division, as if mixed with gunpowder smoke and hot blood.
He could feel the pure, unadulterated fighting spirit in his words; it was another way for Abarai Renji to express concern, and also a direct means to test each other’s growth over these years.
“Oh?”
Yanagawa raised an eyebrow slightly.
He wasn’t startled by this sudden challenge; on the contrary, a faint hint of interest flashed in his eyes.
He also genuinely wanted to see how the red-haired boy from back then—who was always scratching his head in Kido class, yet stood out in actual combat thanks to his astonishing fighting spirit and beast-like intuition—had fared.
Now that he was under the command of someone like Zaraki Kenpachi, to what extent had he been honed?
“Right here?”
“Of course not!”
Renji waved a hand.
“Let’s go to our Eleventh Division training ground!
It’s big enough, sturdy enough, we can fight however we want!”
Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed the bill from the table, tossed it to the owner, and then dragged Yanagawa by the arm as he walked out.
“Let’s go, let’s go!
Let me properly see if the honor student of the past has let his skills slip!”
Yanagawa let him pull him along, a faint, helpless smile on his face, but his footsteps did not hesitate.
It was fine, a good chance to stretch his muscles, and besides, he also wanted to personally experience the level of the core strength of the Seireitei combat units.
The barracks of the Eleventh Division were located in a relatively outer area of the Seireitei; the architectural style was rough and bold, far less refined than the barracks of other divisions, yet it possessed an unadorned, formidable aura.
Before they even got close, they could vaguely hear the shouting, the clashing of metal, and the unsuppressed wild laughter and roars coming from within; the Reishi permeating the air seemed even more active and restless than in other places.
The training ground was a vast, open sandy area, surrounded by many battered wooden stakes and rocks covered in slash marks and scorch marks.
At this moment, dozens of people were sparring in pairs in the arena; the battle was intense, even somewhat chaotic.
There were no elegant moves or strict etiquette; it was more about the direct collision of strength, the crude crushing of spiritual pressure, and various personal combat techniques aimed at defeating opponents as quickly as possible.
The scent of blood and sweat mixed with the dust, the atmosphere wild and fervent.
When Renji, with his striking red hair, dragged Yanagawa—a clearly unfamiliar face—into the training ground, it was like a stone being thrown into a pot of boiling oil.
“Hmm?”
“Who’s that?”
“Someone from the Kido Corps?”
“Brought back by 6th Seat Renji?”
All sorts of gazes gathered instantly—curious, scrutinizing, disdainful, eager…
the list went on.
Those currently sparring couldn’t help but slow down their movements, and the members resting on the sidelines, wiping away wounds, or cheering loudly also stopped what they were doing one after another.
The noisy training ground quickly became much quieter, with only heavy breathing and the occasional sound of weapons scraping against the ground remaining.
Dozens of gazes fell upon Yanagawa like a physical weight, carrying undisguised scrutiny.
In the Eleventh Division, the rule that the strong are respected is ironclad, while the Kido Corps…
in their eyes, was almost synonymous with “weakness” and “administrative work.”
“Yo!
Renji!”
A bald, burly man asked in a rough voice.
“Who’s this soft-skinned guy?
Where did you pick him up from?
Could it be that the Captain-Commander saw how hard we were training and sent someone who knows healing Kido to help out?
Hahaha!”
His words caused a burst of laughter all around.
“Shut up, Madarame!”
Renji yelled back irritably, but there wasn’t much genuine anger in his tone; clearly, this kind of dialogue was the norm in the Eleventh Division.
“This is Yanagawa, my classmate from Shin’ō Academy, currently in the Kido Corps.”
He specifically emphasized “classmate” and “Kido Corps.”
“Classmate?”
Another man leaning against the wall with a strange hairstyle raised an eyebrow, his gaze sweeping over Yanagawa critically.
“He doesn’t look like he can fight much.
Renji, why did you bring him here?
For a tour?”
“Quit yapping!”
Renji walked to a relatively open area in the center of the training ground, turned around, faced Yanagawa, and also faced all the members who were watching, and announced loudly, his voice filled with excitement,
“I’m going to spar with this guy!
All of you, get out of the way and watch closely!”
“Spar?”
“6th Seat Renji wants to fight someone from the Kido Corps?”
“Interesting…”
“Hey, hey, Renji, don’t break the guy; it’ll be a pain to deal with if the Kido Corps comes looking for trouble!”
A clamor immediately erupted on the sidelines, with sounds of skepticism, curiosity, and jeering mixing together.
“Right here?”
Yanagawa confirmed again, his gaze sweeping over the surrounding Eleventh Division members who were clearly preparing to watch a good show.
“Right here!”
Renji had already taken a stance, his right hand resting on the hilt of Zabimaru, his spiritual pressure beginning to rise, carrying a burning aura.
“Don’t worry, this bunch is thick-skinned; they won’t be affected!
Yanagawa, don’t hold back just because we’re in the Eleventh Division!
Let me see your true skills!”
Yanagawa said no more.
He stood quietly, with no powerful burst of spiritual pressure around him, but a calm-as-water yet unfathomable aura.
Naturally spread out from him as the center, gently separating Renji’s burning, battle-intent spiritual pressure.
He raised one hand, his voice calm:
“Then, I look forward to your guidance, Renji.”