Bleach: Stirring Up a Storm

His nose and eyes emerged piece by piece like a jigsaw puzzle, until finally, Kōe’s resolute face appeared completely whole once again. Only the Hannya mask on his face was nowhere to be seen.

”Brother?”

Azashiro Kōzō also noticed Azashiro Sōya’s abnormality. Turning his head slightly, it wasn’t hard to spot Kōe’s figure. However, his limbs were perfectly intact now—there was no sign of him having just been decapitated and dismembered.

Azashiro Kōzō instinctively jerked his Zanpakutō and slashed at Kōe. But Kōe didn’t even turn his head; he simply raised his left hand and fired off a fist-shaped blast of Reiryoku, sending him flying.

”[Bakudō #61・Rikujōkōrō]!”

”[Bakudō #62・Hyapporankan]!”

The pitiful Azashiro Kōzō had actually already fainted, yet his body was still restrained by the Rikujōkōrō and pinned to the ground by a chaotic array of white staves, looking like a lamb waiting to be slaughtered in a cage.

”I thought you were just another ignorant fool who was blind to reality. Now it seems I’m the idiot who arrogantly believed victory was already in my grasp.”

Azashiro Sōya knew that whether it was severing Kōe’s hands or cutting off his head, none of it had been a mere illusion. He had genuinely accomplished those feats.

Yet Kōe was standing here completely unharmed. This could only mean his Zanpakutō possessed an incredibly potent healing ability, along with some form of vital-point displacement. Even trying to control Kōe’s body with Urozakuro would be a waste of effort now. His own heart was firmly in Kōe’s grasp; his life and death were no longer his to decide.

”Anyone would have thought victory was theirs. I don’t blame you,” Kōe said coldly. ”Azashiro is indeed a respectable surname. I’ll give you a chance. Leave your last words.”

Yamamoto had once taught him that only when the enemy breathed their last could he truly be called the victor. Until that moment, he must never harbor the arrogant delusion that victory was assured.

And Azashiro Sōya hadn’t actually made a mistake. Before decapitating Kōe, his Zanpakutō had maintained its translucent, crystal-like form, and he had never once lowered his guard against him.

Death was indeed the end of life, but people always used the destruction of certain things to represent it—like the head, or the heart. And that was precisely their greatest misconception, at least when it came to Kōe and his Kōki.

The fundamental ability of Kōki’s Bankai—[Kōkiraku Sen’ichaku]—was ’Static Recording’. The immunity it granted by recording the Reiatsu of an opponent’s first attack was merely one manifestation of this power.

The instant his Bankai was released, the exterior of the celestial garments would record the Reiatsu of the first external attack. Any subsequent attack with a lower Reiatsu output would be completely unable to break the garments’ flawless state.

By the same token, Kōe was also unable to unleash any attack through the garments that exceeded that recorded Reiatsu level. Rather than saying Kōki’s Bankai possessed both offense and defense, it was more accurate to call it the absolute unification of offense and defense.

While recording externally, the interior of the celestial garments would simultaneously record the physical and Reiatsu state of its wearer. At that moment, the wearer entered a state of ’Static Recording’. Any physical damage could be erased; even if blown to dust, they would revert to their original state. As long as the celestial garments remained, the wearer could not die!

Therefore, when facing Kōe’s Bankai, targeting conventional weak points was entirely useless. At this stage, Kōe’s true weakness was actually the materialized Bankai of his Zanpakutō worn on his body—though it was hard to imagine anyone existing who would completely expose their weakness like that. It was precisely because of this ability that Kōe had the confidence to confront Azashiro Sōya.

Furthermore, upon seeing Kuruyashiki Kenpachi’s corpse, he noted that the man’s Zanpakutō was still present and the cause of death was a piercing strike to the heart. This showed that Azashiro Sōya hadn’t deviated from the fundamental combat patterns of a Shinigami. Thus, it was highly probable that Azashiro Sōya’s Zanpakutō lacked an ability similar to his Kōki.

So from the very beginning, Kōe never pinned his hopes of victory on Kōki’s trait of immunizing against attacks below a certain Reiatsu threshold. On the contrary, by resisting Azashiro Sōya’s slash to his neck, he actively wanted to draw his opponent’s attention to the defensive capabilities of the celestial garments.

Aside from a brief moment of panic when Azashiro Sōya sliced open his robes, the general flow of the battle had remained entirely within Kōe’s acceptable parameters.

When dueling a master like Azashiro Sōya, Kōe knew that if his opponent didn’t get careless, his own chances of winning with his current strength were minuscule. Even if he had brought his other Zanpakutō along, the odds likely wouldn’t have been much better.

Leaving the outcome entirely in the hands of the enemy was an incredibly foolish thing to do. Even if the win condition relied on the opponent’s carelessness, he had to be the one to manufacture it.

And using his own death was the most foolproof method possible. However, he would only get one chance. Fortunately, Kōe’s skills were sharp enough to seize that fleeting opportunity. Aside from the fact that getting his head and hands chopped off hurt like absolute hell, there were no downsides.

”The Azashiro clan... last words?”

”You said it yourself. Ever since Kenichi died, the Azashiro clan ceased to exist,” Kōe stated coldly.

Azashiro Sōya froze for a moment. He turned his head to look at his unconscious younger brother and slowly said, ”Consider this a request, then. Spare Kōzō’s life.”

”Impossible. I could never let someone carrying a clan’s grudge walk free!” Kōe rejected the plea decisively. He turned his head to glance at Azashiro Kōzō as well, then changed his tune. ”I can take him back to the Seireitei. Whether he lives or dies will be up to Central 46.”

”Heh... hehehe!” Azashiro Sōya suddenly began to chuckle softly, completely oblivious to the blood welling up from his mouth. ”Up to Central 46? Hehehe!”

”At the very least... it’ll buy him some time...” Kōe gritted his teeth, continuing awkwardly. ”That’s the best I can do.”

Azashiro Sōya didn’t answer. He just kept laughing to himself like a madman. But given his current injuries, the mere act of laughing was more than his frail body could bear. A mouthful of blood surged up his throat, and a violent fit of coughing finally put an end to his sorrowful laughter.

”I really don’t understand you. You clearly have your own ideals, and you know full well that turning those ideals into action within the Seireitei is impossible...” Azashiro Sōya panted, speaking in broken gasps. ”Yet you still accept it. Why would you accept it? How can you accept it!”

Azashiro Sōya’s voice echoed through the air. Kōe thought for a moment, unsure of how to answer him right away. He did have his own ideas—like his research into the Quincy, and his investigation of the Wandenreich.

He had also been forced to accept the current state of the Seireitei. He understood perfectly well that in this world, he was the only one who was truly awake. But among a crowd of drunks, a sober man was the anomaly. For the sake of his own peace of mind, it was a helpless compromise.

Yet at the same time, he was trying to enact change. He was doing his best to ground his ideas in reality through methods acceptable to both sides, though he had no idea if such an approach would actually succeed.

Just then, Azashiro Sōya’s voice rang out again, even more impassioned than before.

”One day, you will despair at all of this, just like I did a hundred years ago!” Azashiro Sōya raised a trembling right hand and placed it over the captain’s haori on his chest. ”When that time comes, put this on and let your ideals replace that stagnant, thousand-year-old city of death. Remember this, Shihouin Kenpachi!”

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