Hahaha! Yes, that's it! That's what it feels like!"
Feeling the surge in spiritual pressure around Ito Makoto, Zaraki Kenpachi grinned and laughed wildly before swinging his sword in a chaotic yet devastating manner. His strikes were as reckless as ever, yet each one carried the overwhelming power of a demon. With the blessing of 30% of his original body's spiritual pressure, Makoto Ito could barely keep up against the one-eyed Kenpachi, who still had his eyepatch on.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Kenpachi slashed relentlessly, his laughter echoing through the battlefield. Ito Makoto focused intensely, pushing his Shunpo to its absolute limit. In a fleeting moment, he spotted an opening and struck, his blade slicing into Kenpachi's shoulder. The attack, imbued with the power of the Annihilation God, should have done significant damage. However, Kenpachi merely shrugged, squeezing the blade out of his wound as if it were nothing. Ignoring the blood trickling down his shoulder, he lunged forward with a wicked grin and drove his sword toward Makoto's chest.
Schlick!
"Gah!" Makoto spat out a mouthful of blood as the blade pierced through him. "Damn it! This isn't a fight—this bastard is trying to kill me!" he roared, gritting his teeth. Summoning his last reserves of strength, he clutched Kenpachi's sword arm with his left hand while gripping his own blade tightly.
"Annihilation God Style: Second Form—Split the Forbidden!"
Enduring searing pain, Makoto carved a circle in the air with his sword. From its tip, a thick black mist erupted, forming three interlinked circles. Unlike before, with the boost from his captain-level spiritual pressure, the attack's potency had increased exponentially. The triple-layered Split Forbidden slammed into Kenpachi's chest with brutal force.
Boom!
The impact sent shockwaves through the air, shaking the entire martial arts field. The reinforced bluestone floor, a product of the Technology Development Bureau, cracked and shattered. Doors and windows within hundreds of meters exploded into fragments. Sensing the devastation, Yachiru Kusajishi had already dashed to safety.
Kenpachi coughed up blood as he was blasted backward, smashing through walls and sending debris flying in every direction. Smoke and dust choked the air, reducing visibility to nearly nothing.
And then… laughter.
"Hahahaha! Interesting—this is interesting!"
Through the settling dust, Kenpachi emerged. Despite taking a direct hit, he stood tall, his chest—previously caved in—strangely regenerating. Not only that, but he reached for his eyepatch and ripped it off, revealing a horrifying secret beneath—a mouth growing where his eye should have been. The eyepatch had been consuming his spiritual pressure the entire time.
The moment it was removed, an immeasurable pressure erupted from his body, shaking the battlefield anew. With a mere flick of his wrist, his sword released a golden wave of energy, instantly cleaving a hundred-meter-high building outside the arena clean in half.
Makoto stared in disbelief. He had fought Kenpachi countless times, but never before had he forced him to remove his eyepatch.
I'd need my real body to even stand a chance against this… he thought grimly. Watching Kenpachi's monstrous power unfold, one absurd question crossed his mind: How the hell did Ichigo Kurosaki beat this guy when he first arrived in Soul Society?
Taking a deep breath, Makoto channeled his spiritual pressure into his wounds, forcing them to close temporarily. At the same time, he used Shunpo to circle the battlefield, maintaining a strategic distance from Kenpachi while chanting under his breath:
"Mask of flesh and bone, all things in the universe, the one who flaps the wings and bears the name of man! The thunderous carriage, the spinning wheel's gap, let it be filled with light! Carve twin lotus upon the wall of flame and await the abyss of fire!"
"Bakudō 61: Six Rod Light Prison!"
In an instant, six radiant beams of light materialized around Kenpachi, binding him in place.
"Tch, another trick?" Kenpachi scoffed before flexing his arms.
Shatter!
The light prison cracked and crumbled like brittle glass.
"You've gotta be kidding me!" Makoto cursed, his frustration mounting. He had accounted for Kenpachi's monstrous resilience, but he never imagined he could shatter a fully incanted, captain-level Bakudō like it was nothing.
Kenpachi wasted no time, raising his sword high.
"Here it comes…" Makoto muttered, preparing for the worst.
Kenpachi swung.
The incoming slash looked deceptively simple, yet Makoto could feel the sheer destructive force behind it—enough to split mountains. With no other option, he gritted his teeth and prepared to counter.
"Annihilation God Style: Third Form—"
But just as the sword was about to strike Makoto Ito, Zaraki Kenpachi suddenly halted his blade mid-swing.
"Forget it. If I go through with this, you'll die."
"Boring."
Makoto Ito let out a slow, shaky breath. He had no confidence in surviving that last strike. The moment Kenpachi withdrew, Ito's spiritual pressure plummeted, returning to that of a strong vice-captain, while in the distant Hueco Mundo, his true body's spiritual energy rebounded sharply.
As the battle ended, Makoto Ito immediately used Kaidō to stop the bleeding from his chest before pulling out a pre-prepared gauze to dress his wounds. Only then did he allow his muscles, which he had been forcefully keeping tense with spiritual pressure, to relax. The moment he did, blood gushed from his wounds, soaking the bandages in an instant.
If someone wondered why Makoto Ito was so skilled at first aid, the answer was simple—he had no choice but to learn. Every battle with Ikkaku or Kenpachi left him injured, and since his body's regenerative abilities weren't fast enough, he had to master basic medical techniques to speed up his recovery. At this point, he figured he could probably walk into the Fourth Division and get a job as a field medic.
Ignoring the searing pain still coursing through his body, he turned his gaze to Kenpachi, who, despite being covered in wounds, remained standing firm.
"Captain, do you need me to tend to your injuries?"
"Hah! These scratches? Hardly worth worrying about."
Kenpachi sneered, shaking his head before turning to leave. Yachiru, who had been watching nearby, cheerfully hopped onto his shoulder and flashed a bright smile at Makoto.
"Thanks, Little Ito! Kenny hasn't had this much fun in ages!" she giggled. Then, with a sweet yet mischievous tone, she added, "Oh, by the way, the training grounds got wrecked again. Can you go to the squad office and apply for repair funds? Thanks, Little Ito!"
Makoto Ito's face twisted in dismay, as though he had just swallowed three rotten flies.
"Again?!"
Memories of his past attempts to request repair funds resurfaced—specifically, Captain Nagajiro's exasperated expression each time he showed up with yet another request. With a deep sigh, he resigned himself to his fate.
Kenpachi took a few steps forward but suddenly wavered, his vision blurring. Looking down, he realized his numerous untreated wounds had left a significant trail of blood, pooling beneath his feet. He had lost far more blood than he thought.
With an irritated grunt, he turned back toward Makoto Ito.
"On second thought… you better patch me up."
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