Bleach: Stirring Up a Storm

The originally cheerful atmosphere grew heavy. Seeing the gradually serious expressions on the faces of the other two, Kōe also put away the playfulness in his heart.

”I originally didn’t plan to do this,” Urahara was the first to speak, his face serious. ”After all, this involves our secrets.”

”Right! Besides, you even dared to deceive us. But considering you’re just rather stupid and not harboring any malicious intent, we’ll reluctantly forgive you!” Yoruichi said, tilting her head up.

The surroundings fell silent once more. The hard-won serious atmosphere seemed on the verge of becoming frivolous again thanks to Yoruichi’s words. Even Urahara lowered his head and sighed, shooting Yoruichi a pleading look.

”You talk, I won’t interrupt...” Yoruichi understood perfectly, covering her mouth to indicate she would dutifully play the mute from now on.

”Do you have anything you want to say regarding the matter of your Zanpakutō?”

”Are you asking me?” Kōe asked, pointing at himself. Seeing Urahara nod, he looked completely incredulous. *’Didn’t I just finish explaining everything? What is this, a never-ending interrogation?’*

”I don’t think there’s anything left to say. Or, if there’s something you still don’t understand, you can just ask me directly!”

”Uh... I mean regarding your Zanpakutō’s Shikai.” Urahara thought for a moment before adding, ”We’ve already seen your Shikai. Don’t you have anything to say about it?”

*’So they were just annoyed I didn’t explain my Shikai. Is there really a need to beat around the bush like this? Just say it directly!’*

”As you saw, my Kōki is a direct-attack type, but it has four forms...” Kōe said as he drew the Zanpakutō from his waist and softly chanted, ”Catch him, Kōki!”

The gauntlets that had appeared in the Sword Room materialized on Kōe’s hands once again. Urahara opened his mouth to speak, but Kōe didn’t notice and gave him absolutely no chance to get a word in.

”The first form is a pair of gauntlets. There’s no Kidō enhancement whatsoever; they are just simple gauntlets...” Kōe threw a few punches before continuing, ”The second form: Trample, Kōki!”

The black gauntlets vanished completely, as if they had never existed.

In their place, a pair of black metal boots appeared on Kōe’s feet. The boots reached just up to his knees, completely encasing his calves without hindering his mobility. Embossed on the insteps were Hannya masks, their four symmetrically long, sharp fangs practically guaranteed to leave a mark on anything they kicked.

”Just like the gauntlets, these combat boots have no special properties other than being sturdy and lightweight...” Kōe resumed his explanation. ”As for the third form, it’s spiked armor...”

”Alright, alright! Stop right there!” Urahara finally managed to interject. His original intention hadn’t been to make Kōe expose all his trump cards.

”There’s more to your sword than just that, right?” Yoruichi’s eyes had been glued to the display, completely forgetting her promise to play the mute.

”The release speed is rather fast!”

”Let me correct you. It’s not that the release speed is fast; it’s that there is no release speed!”

Kōe smiled smugly. This was the aspect of Kōki he was most satisfied with. Although it couldn’t compare to his other blade at all, anyone who truly considered it the weakest type of Zanpakutō would be an absolute fool.

Generally speaking, a Shinigami’s Zanpakutō fell into two categories. The first was the direct-attack type, where the Shikai altered the weapon’s form but granted no special abilities—simply put, it just changed into a different weapon. This type of Zanpakutō was universally considered the weakest.

The other category was the Kidō-attack type. These Zanpakutō possessed a wide variety of abilities, which could be further divided into elemental and rule-based types depending on their nature. The abilities they provided could grant a Shinigami a massive boost in combat power.

Furthermore, all the Zanpakutō hailed as the ”strongest” belonged to the Kidō-attack type. For example, the old man’s Zanpakutō was known as the strongest fire-type Zanpakutō.

Therefore, back in the Sword Room, some of the new students had shown disdain upon realizing Kōe’s Zanpakutō was likely a direct-attack type. This wasn’t out of jealousy; the enhancements provided by a direct-attack type were simply too meager to warrant their envy.

But only Kōe himself knew that his Zanpakutō, Kōki, had a hidden ability. It was obvious, yet rarely noticed—an ability even Urahara had overlooked. It was exactly what Yoruichi had pointed out: the release speed.

Releasing a Zanpakutō required a certain process, most directly manifested by chanting the release command. This process could be long or short, but it was unavoidable.

Logically speaking, release speed was a crucial factor in a Shinigami’s battles. Imagine a Zanpakutō with a fast release speed; theoretically, it could seize the initiative, perhaps even suppressing the opponent so relentlessly that they couldn’t release their own Zanpakutō.

In reality, however, this was not the case. First, while there were differences in release speeds, the margins were minuscule—even the blink of an eye was considered too long—so this factor was practically negligible.

Second, even if someone could seize upon that split-second discrepancy to gain an advantage, such a person would already be on a completely different level of strength compared to their opponent. They wouldn’t need to rely on something so trivial to dictate the flow of battle.

Consequently, the factor of release speed was considered entirely trivial—useless in practice and not worth worrying about. However, if paired with the right Zanpakutō, release speed could become a lethal weapon. Kōe’s Kōki was the perfect example.

”Actually, Kōki doesn’t require a release chant,” Kōe continued explaining the point about release speed. ”In fact, its release isn’t triggered by conscious thought, but by subconscious instinct and physical reflexes.”

”That sounds strong, but it’s actually not very useful. However, if it’s your Kōki...” Urahara said thoughtfully.

”Then it’s the strongest of the direct-attack types!” Yoruichi immediately followed up. ”But it needs to be paired with something else. For example... Hakuda!”

”Bingo!” Kōe snapped his fingers in praise. ”As expected of our Hakuda master!”

Kōki’s sealed form was a short sword, which already had a short attack range. After its Shikai, it became a close-quarters weapon, reducing its attack range to true zero distance—commonly known as hand-to-hand combat.

In combat, a longer reach offers safety and power, while a shorter reach demands perilous risk. This peril didn’t just apply to the enemy; it represented one’s own precarious situation. While it was easier to strike an opponent’s weak points up close, one’s own vulnerabilities were also completely exposed. Close-quarters combat had always been a razor’s edge between life and death.

This was where Hakuda, one of the four Shinigami combat arts, came into play. In Kōe’s eyes, this discipline—which specialized in close-quarters brawling and lethal unarmed strikes—was practically tailor-made for Kōki.

”My concept works like this...”

Before his voice faded, Kōe leaped into the air. Raising his right foot high above his head, he brought his heel crashing down onto the boulder in front of him. With a loud bang, the man-sized rock shattered into two halves.

The moment his right foot touched the ground, Kōe pivoted on his toes, spinning in a full circle. His left foot lashed out in a sweeping kick, snapping the already split boulder right through the middle, turning two pieces into four.

”Because the release relies on physical reflexes and subconscious instinct, I can strike when they least expect it.”

As he spoke, the boots on Kōe’s legs vanished. Kōki reverted to its sealed Zanpakutō form, held in a reverse grip in Kōe’s right hand, its blade buried deep into a chunk of rock in the upper left corner.

With a flick of his wrist, Kōe angled the blade, sending a head-sized chunk of rubble flying straight toward his own face.

”Catch him, Kōki!”

Although he chanted the command, Kōki had already vanished and released into its gauntlet form a split second prior, firmly catching the incoming rock. Kōe squeezed his fingers slightly, and the rock in his hand crumbled into pebbles that clattered to the ground.

”Brilliant!” Urahara, having finally seen Kōki’s extraordinary potential, clapped enthusiastically from the sidelines.

”In its unreleased state, it satisfies the needs of close-range combat. Once in Shikai, it perfectly complements the zero-distance fighting style of Hakuda. More importantly, because there’s no release speed, you can seamlessly switch between zero-distance and close-range combat at any moment.”

Kōe wanted to continue, but his left hand suddenly felt heavy. He turned his head to see Yoruichi hugging his gauntlet. He had no idea when she had even gotten over there.

”The lack of release speed brings more than just adaptability in combat range. Just like how you caught that rock—in actual combat, you’d be catching swords,” Yoruichi said, continuously stroking Kōe’s gauntlet with an obsessed look on her face. ”You don’t even need to wear armor. A single blade can handle all sorts of sudden emergencies. What an absolute treasure!”

”Uh, you’re drooling...”

Hearing Kōe’s reminder, Yoruichi hurriedly wiped her mouth. She was truly mesmerized by Kōe’s Kōki, but unfortunately, it wasn’t her Zanpakutō.

After all, she was the Hakuda master among the three of them. It was no exaggeration to say that her Hakuda skills were considered strong even among the older generation. She even had the confidence that, in the future, she would become the number one Hakuda practitioner in Seireitei.

So one could only imagine how deeply Yoruichi yearned for a Zanpakutō born specifically for Hakuda. If Zanpakutō could be traded, she would have gladly bankrupted herself—and thrown in some coercion and bribery for good measure—just to get her hands on Kōki.

”Oh, you precious treasure. It’s a pity you followed the wrong master,” Yoruichi murmured, stroking Kōki. It was hard to tell if she was feeling indignant for herself or pitying the blade.

”Don’t you think you’re going a bit too far?” Kōe said, rubbing his nose. ”Even though my Hakuda isn’t strong, it’s not weak... well, not *too* weak, right?”

Although Kōe had lied to the two of them about his Zanpakutō earlier, not everything he said was false. For instance, his lopsided skill set was a very real issue.

Shinigami didn’t need to study subjects like language or mathematics from his past life. Their primary curriculum consisted of the four major combat arts—Zanjutsu, Kidō, Hohō, and Hakuda.

Zanjutsu meant slashing techniques, or swordsmanship. Kōe had no problems in this area; he was roughly on the same level as Yoruichi and Urahara.

Kidō represented the advanced spells Shinigami cast using their spiritual power. Based on their function, they were divided into offensive Hadō and supportive Bakudō. This was Kōe’s absolute specialty.

If Yoruichi was a Hakuda master, then Kōe was a Kidō master. This didn’t just apply to his peers; across the entirety of Seireitei, Kōe’s Kidō proficiency ranked in the top five. He was a true Kidō master!

As for Hohō, it represented footwork, primarily Shunpo. This was a general term for techniques used to close the distance in an instant. In reality, there were various distinct styles of Shunpo; for example, the Shihouin clan had their own unique variation. Yoruichi was the strongest in this aspect as well, while Kōe was the weakest, though he was still passable.

Therefore, Kōe’s true weakness lay in the final art: Hakuda, or close-quarters hand-to-hand combat. In this regard, Yoruichi had absolute authority to speak. ”Calling your Hakuda ’weak’ is an insult to the word ’weak’. What was that term you used? A ’free kill’?”

Yes, Kōe’s Hakuda was essentially a free kill—freely giving his life away to the enemy. It was the truth, and Kōe had no way to refute it.

To think that such a ”free kill” expert possessed a Zanpakutō specialized entirely for Hakuda. The mere thought of it made Yoruichi salivate with envy and want to cry. Why wasn’t such a perfect blade hers?! Even if it couldn’t be hers, it shouldn’t have gone to this free kill! The heavens were truly blind!

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