The shock left behind by Yanagawa’s modified Raikōhō had yet to fade from the training ground.
Then—
A far more primal, violent spiritual pressure surged in from the entrance without warning, crashing over the field like a tangible wave.
Every member of the Eleventh Division—from Third Seat Ikkaku Madarame down to the lowest-ranking soldier—instantly shifted from shock to a mixture of instinctive reverence and fervor.
Their backs straightened as one, and every gaze turned toward the entrance.
Yanagawa sensed it more keenly than anyone.
The quality of this spiritual pressure was unlike that of any Shinigami he knew.
It was filled with pure battlelust and destruction, less like something trained and more like an innate instinct forged through endless slaughter.
“Waaah~ Looks like something fun’s happening!
Look, Ken-chan!”
A sweet, crisp child’s voice rang out first.
A tiny, pink-haired girl sat lazily on the shoulder of a towering man, swinging her legs as she scanned the field with bright amber eyes.
Her gaze lingered especially on Yanagawa, the unfamiliar face.
The man carrying her was Kenpachi Zaraki, captain of the Eleventh Division.
Wild hair.
A scar running across his face.
His shihakushō hung open, exposing a powerful chest.
His entire presence radiated lazy, dangerous pressure—the kind that said, I’m the strongest bastard here.
His single eye barely glanced at his own subordinates.
Instead, like a beast catching the scent of blood, it locked onto Yanagawa in the center of the field—and Renji, who had just managed to stand opposite him.
“Oh?” Kenpachi’s mouth split into a grin, showing white teeth.
It was the pure excitement of finding potential prey.
“Renji.
Who beat you into that sorry shape?”
Renji immediately straightened despite his battered state.
“Captain!
He’s an old classmate from the Shin’ō Academy—Yanagawa, from the Kido Corps!
We were… sparring!”
“Sparring?
And you ended up like that?”
Kenpachi’s eye swept over Yanagawa, sharp as a blade, as if measuring whether his bones were hard enough to cut.
“If he can beat you up that bad, he might be worth something.
Hey, you.”
He jerked his chin toward Yanagawa.
“What’s your name?
Come fight me.”
The invitation was utterly natural.
His battlelust was completely undisguised.
But before Yanagawa could respond, Renji instinctively added, still shaken by the Kidō blast from earlier:
“Captain!
“Kidō?”
The word was like a bucket of cold water, instantly extinguishing most of the heat in Kenpachi’s eye.
His grin fell.
His brow furrowed impatiently.
The interest in his eye visibly faded, replaced by undisguised disdain.
“Kidō?” he repeated, his tone heavy with that’s it?
as if he had just heard something unbearably boring.
With Yachiru Kusajishi still on his shoulder, he took a couple of steps closer to Yanagawa.
The oppressive battlelust around him had already faded greatly, replaced by a critical look like he was examining something useless.
“So after all that, you’re just playing with little tricks—lightning and fire?”
Clearly, he had no interest in Kidō—something that required incantations, technique, and control rather than pure strength and the collision of blades.
In his eyes, combat meant blood on steel and fists against flesh.
Anything “clever” was dull.
Yachiru tilted her head on his shoulder, looking from Yanagawa to Kenpachi.
“But Ken-chan, that ‘little trick’ just now was really loud.
Renji’s bleeding too.”
“That just means Renji’s too weak,” Kenpachi said bluntly, having completely lost interest in fighting Yanagawa.
Renji, having also been struck by realization, looked at Yanagawa and voiced the question many Eleventh Division members, including Ikkaku and Yumichika Ayasegawa, were wondering.
“Yeah, Yanagawa!”
“Where’s your Zanpakutō?
You never drew your sword once!
Even if your Kidō is strong, a Zanpakutō is supposed to be a Shinigami’s other half, right?
Don’t tell me yours has been rusting away in the Kido Corps.”
The question struck at the heart of the matter.
In Soul Society, a Zanpakutō was the symbol of a Shinigami’s power, identity, and even soul.
Most Shinigami regarded training their Zanpakutō as the foundation of their strength.
For someone as clearly capable as Yanagawa to spar against a seated officer without drawing his blade even once was extremely unusual.
For a moment, all eyes focused on Yanagawa again.
Even Kenpachi, who had nearly lost interest, looked over with faint amusement, curious what explanation this “Kidō user” would give.
Facing everyone’s attention, Yanagawa remained calm.
“I do have a Zanpakutō,” he answered plainly.
“But it is true that I haven’t used it in quite some time.”
He paused, seeming to choose his words.
What he said next left those familiar with the Shinigami combat system somewhat stunned.
“To me, Kidō is understanding.
Construction.
An exploration and application of the essence of spiritual power.”
“A Zanpakutō, by contrast, leans more toward bestowal and resonance.”
He glanced at his empty waist.
“As for a Zanpakutō, it is powerful.
An extension of the soul.
An amplifier of power.”
“But relying on it also means, to some extent, being limited by its form and nature.”
“I prefer to directly control spiritual power itself, using it in the way best suited to the situation at hand, rather than having my combat style defined by a fixed Zanpakutō ability.”
To Shinigami who revered the power of their Zanpakutō, many of whom regarded Shikai and Bankai as lifelong goals, those words bordered on heresy.
Even Ikkaku could not help muttering, “That kid’s got a hell of a mouth… Is he looking down on Zanpakutō?”
Kenpachi listened, then snorted through his nose.
The last trace of interest vanished.
He turned and walked deeper into the barracks with Yachiru on his shoulder, his lazy voice drifting back.
“A fight where you can’t cut loose isn’t worth a damn.
Renji, if you lost, go train harder.
Don’t embarrass yourself here.”
He did not even bother turning around, only waving a hand.
Yachiru leaned over Kenpachi’s shoulder and waved at Yanagawa with a bright smile.
“Bye-bye, lightning big brother~”
Then Kenpachi carried her away, disappearing into the shadows at the far end of the training ground.
As Kenpachi left, that suffocating spiritual pressure receded like the tide.
The atmosphere in the training ground loosened at once, but the way everyone looked at Yanagawa had grown far more complicated.
There was wariness toward the strength he had shown by defeating Renji.
And also a faint, strange admiration that he had dared to say such things in front of Captain Zaraki.
Renji, however, did not think that deeply.
He walked over and slapped Yanagawa’s shoulder hard.
“You really haven’t changed.
Your head’s still full of stuff nobody else can understand!”
Yanagawa only smiled.
His Zanpakutō…
It was not that he had truly abandoned it.
Rather, his experience as a mage in his previous life had left him with a deep-rooted preference for directly manipulating energy through his own understanding and calculations.
The Zanpakutō system felt more like a convenient interface granted by the rules of this world—a force multiplier.
It was powerful, certainly, but the fixed nature of its abilities left him somewhat uninterested.
He had devoted far more energy to studying the essence of Reiryoku, the principles of Kidō, and how the energy theories from his previous life might be integrated with the laws of this world.
To him, his Zanpakutō was more like a backup tool, and a special spiritual phenomenon worth studying.
The real issue, however, was much simpler.
Yanagawa’s Zanpakutō was somewhat violent.
It was difficult to communicate with.
And whenever he used it, the noise and destructive power tended to be excessive.
So in most situations, it simply sat in the corner of his room, gathering dust.
Save to Library:>