Chapter 67: A Moment to Be Etched in History
The first to move was neither the Captain Commander, nor Takeru, nor Ichigo.
It was the flagpole.
Unable to withstand the blazing wind, it gave a soft, brittle crack and toppled.
That faint sound was like a battle horn being blown.
All three vanished at almost the same instant. Their movements were so fast they seemed to slip out of the visible world, and the sword clashes that followed felt as if they were happening in a different layer of reality with its own flow of time.
No one could have counted how many times their blades met.
First came a storm of sparks, then a terrifying shock tore outward from the center of the battlefield.
The ground within a radius of a hundred meters collapsed into a shallow crater, its surface scorched and split. It had only tasted the aftermath of their high density spiritual pressure, yet already looked like a battlefield after a bombardment.
Takeru was blown back. While still in midair, the silhouette of a shining blade suddenly swelled in his vision. He forced his battered body to twist away from what would have been a fatal cut.
At the same time he snapped his hips and whipped out a kick, as fluid as if he were planted firmly on the ground. The immense strength brought by his dragon blood made the kick rupture the air.
Yet what would have been a killing slash from anyone else had been nothing more than a casual swing for the old man.
There was no sign of strength fading with age, nor of youth surpassing age.
Even so, Yamamoto Genryusai simply lifted his left arm like a shield and took the kick aimed at his head.
To Takeru, it felt like he had kicked a wall of reinforced concrete.
What made it worse was the realization that the old man could easily have chosen to parry with his sword. Instead, he had used his arm.
So where was that sword now?
A streak of blood red light cut across Takeru's field of view and slammed in between him and the Captain Commander, intercepting the merciless downward blade.
The impact detonated in a violent blast.
Takeru rode the shockwave, letting it hurl him backward to open up distance. His narrowed eyes tracked the old man's outline through the glare, and without a word he unleashed a Seven Flash.
Seven invisible Kido threads lanced together through the air, converging into a single point and piercing straight into the wave of light like a sharpened spear.
While Ichigo had been raising his proficiency with Bankai, Takeru had also been refining his arsenal, seeking out more ways to apply the techniques he had already mastered.
The continuous Seven Flash that had ripped through Sogyoku before, and the current One Instant Seven Kills Unification, were both fruits of that training.
He had sacrificed area of effect. In return, the destructive force of every thread was focused completely on a single point.
It existed solely to strike at a moment of inattention and inflict a grievous wound.
"A fine technique. The control is only a little lacking. If you could twist them into one rope, then perhaps in a few decades, or a hundred years from now, you might make me take half a step back."
Yamamoto's spiritual pressure surged. A towering sea of flame crushed the flash of light, and he held his sword horizontally in front of him, unmoving.
The seven Kido threads slammed into the blade and shattered. Their paths were forcibly deflected away, tracing streaks of sparks as they skidded along the steel.
"Is that so? I think it turned out pretty well."
Takeru drove his sword back into its sheath, severing the threads, then lowered his voice in chant.
"Bakudo number sixty three, Sajō Sabaku."
It had been said before that Kido threads were spiritual pressure compressed into thread form, ready made casting material. To a certain extent, they could even ease the loss of power that came from shortening the incantation.
To master Only Flash and push its strength higher, Takeru had poured a tremendous amount of effort into Kido.
Now it was finally repaying him.
The snapped Kido threads swelled in an instant, transforming into seven thick golden chains that coiled and clasped around Yamamoto Genryusai. They bound him from head to toe until his figure was completely buried within them.
For a heartbeat, the battlefield fell absolutely silent.
It did not last even two seconds.
With a roar like a volcano bursting open, the Captain Commander simply tore the restraints apart.
The first place his eyes went was not Takeru, but upward, to Ichigo, who had appeared above him and was laughing with wild joy.
"Getsuga… Tensho."
The body possessed by Hollow White had rushed in while Yamamoto was bound, and the moment the chains shattered he struck without mercy.
The great sword in his hand was wrapped in a torrent of spiritual pressure. The density of it warped its form, making the blade seem dozens of times longer and thicker.
From a distance, it looked like Ichigo was holding a giant pillar of light. Yet its movement was fluid and whiplike, bending into the shape of a vast crescent as he swung it down with brutal force.
It ripped through the scorching wind. It split the rolling flames.
It came straight for Yamamoto Genryusai, intent on crushing him into the earth.
That strange soul, that warped spiritual pressure, drew a spark of interest from the old man.
But this was not the time to indulge his curiosity.
He answered with a single swing.
An even larger sea of flame surged out to meet the attack, swallowing both the pillar of light and Hollow White in its heart.
All at once, a peculiar chill flowed through the air.
Takeru had slipped into position in front of Yamamoto, his presence veiled by Translucent Dragon Scales.
His spiritual pressure was so refined that even a fraction of it could pulverize steel. The Only Flash unleashed under those conditions became a godlike cut without shadow or trace.
It was as if the strike had taken place in another world. The enemies of the past were severed, the wound appeared in the future, and in the present moment, nothing seemed to happen at all.
That was how fast it was.
Yet Yamamoto still reacted.
He tilted his head by the smallest fraction, dodging at the last possible instant.
Only a few strands of his beard drifted down, cut cleanly away.
"You little brat."
The old man was genuinely angry now.
His body spun in a perfect arc, and he used the full strength of his waist to drive his blazing sword in a savage swing.
The hit was like a batter connecting with a perfect pitch.
With a thunderous crash, Takeru was sent flying like a ball, turning into a streak of fire that slammed into the ground and shook the ruined district. A pillar of dust hundreds of meters high erupted where he vanished.
"Takeru…."
Ichigo, who had landed on the ground and was still steaming from the flames, had rejoined the fight at some point. His face twisted when he saw that impact.
"I am fine."
Takeru appeared beside him in the next breath.
"You, you… how did you dodge that?"
"The Shihōin family stepping technique, Utsusemi. It is similar to a substitution technique. I picked it up from Yoruichi yesterday. She probably did not expect me to understand it that quickly."
During yesterday's hot spring diplomacy with Yoruichi, she had indeed gathered a great deal of information. But that was information Takeru had deliberately fed her.
The more a person knew, the more easily they overthought things. The more they thought, the more lost they became, and in the end they were forced to move step by step according to the situation in front of them.
That kind of confusion was the best way to dull a threat.
Besides that, the two of them had traded insights on Shunpo.
It was rare for Takeru to meet someone who could keep up with his thought process, and Yoruichi had spoken more than usual without noticing. That alone had been enough for him to grasp the core of the technique.
Once he understood the principle behind it, a so called secret stepping art lost most of its mystique in his eyes.
Of course, even with such a lifesaving skill, he had not come through unscathed.
The moment he broke through the Bakudo, his clothes were scorched and his hair curled from the heat. The superheated air he had inhaled had set his throat burning.
"Are you two discussing whether you should surrender?"
Yamamoto Genryusai descended from the sky.
The flames crawling along his sword made hearts pound.
The faint squeak of his straw sandals across the shattered ground sent a chill down the spine.
"Is it not a little early to be talking about surrender?"
Takeru stood with his hand resting on his hilt, his sharpness fully unsheathed in his aura even though the blade was still in its sheath.
"Indeed."
The old man stopped and said calmly,
"Shunpo, Hakuda, Kido, Zanjutsu, and your cooperative tactics. A very distinct fighting style. Your performance is worthy of this old man's attention."
"But with only these, with only this state where you have not even used Shikai, let alone Bankai, you are clouds that drift past in front of me. A single cut is enough to turn you to ash."
"To challenge this old man with nothing but your basic skills, you are still a thousand years too early."
"Hurry and bring it out."
"Bring out the Bankai you have learned, before you are cut down by my Ryujin Jakka and left unable to move, unable even to hold your swords."
"This is your only chance at victory."
"Even if it is only one chance in ten thousand, this old man knows you will not be satisfied until that small chance is crushed beneath your feet."
There was no mockery in his tone, yet the words stung more than any insult.
Because they were true.
The gap in power was obvious.
Even their overwhelming spiritual pressure, enough to stand shoulder to shoulder with the strongest Captains of the Gotei 13, could not level the difference in front of Yamamoto Genryusai.
Measured against that, aside from Bankai, they truly had nothing else they could throw into the balance.
"Then we will use it."
Takeru and Ichigo traded a glance. Then they moved apart without hesitation, taking positions that formed a loose pincer around the old man.
Using Bankai was not frightening.
What was frightening was knowing that the enemy before them would undoubtedly become even more terrifying once they did.
They had already steeled themselves for that.
"Hoah…"
Ichigo wrapped both hands around his hilt and thrust it forward.
He forced every last grain of his spiritual pressure to the surface, pushing his output to the very peak.
His eyes turned blue. His clothes whipped about, ready to be torn apart, while a vortex of spirit particles swirled around him, heralding an incredible change.
Takeru's movements were calmer.
He simply drew his sword, scabbard and all, from his waist, shifted his body sideways, and extended his left arm horizontally as if offering the weapon to someone else.
Perhaps he was offering it to the future version of himself that was about to be reborn.
It also looked like he had seized the entire world in his grip.
An extraordinary aura radiated from him.
Light welled up from within, dyeing his entire body a deep, radiant blue. Countless motes of light of the same color circled him like stars.
The shift was sudden, yet felt entirely natural.
"Bankai."
"Bankai."
Their voices rang out together, overflowing with power.
Two colossal pillars of blue black spirit particles burst upward from the ground, forming bridges that linked earth and sky. They rose like twin towers of Babel for a new world.
Clouds twisted as if being drawn in.
A vast vortex formed high above and the weather itself changed.
At that moment, everyone in Seireitei paused.
Their attention was pulled in the same direction, toward the distant twin pillars.
It was as if the entire Soul Society were silently bowing its head to the two figures who were about to carve their names into its history.
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