Chapter 69: The Offensive and Defensive Endonemī
The bombardment lasted only three to five seconds before it cut off.
It was not that Ichigo had run out of power.
A vast spiritual pressure had surged up from within the crater, dragging explosive flames with it as it tore through the rain of arrows and spread across the sky. It was as grand and overwhelming as a volcanic eruption, a shock you felt in your eyes and in your bones.
"After taking that much he can still release that kind of power?"
Ichigo, who had already landed, found the sight hard to believe.
"That is not strange."
Takeru appeared on the other side of the crater.
His voice, coming through the helmet, carried a metallic timbre it did not have before. Even speaking in a normal tone, every word sounded powerful and resonant.
"The vitality of a Shinigami is equivalent to his spiritual pressure. As long as his heart is still beating, spiritual pressure keeps being generated. Even if he cannot react in time, instinctively mobilizing spiritual pressure to resist will have an effect. Of course, only to a certain degree."
"The Captain Commander's Shikai is incredibly strong, but no matter how strong it is, it is not stronger than our Bankai."
"In a one on one fight he might be able to match us for a while."
"But in a one on two it is already amazing that he has lasted this long, especially when he does not yet understand the true nature of our Bankai."
Ichigo nodded unconsciously and stared at the blazing pit.
"My strength jumped too much after entering Bankai. If I fought alone, I would have trouble controlling it, so I simply let that guy test the opponent's power first. Once we started working together I was planning to adjust based on what I saw. But it looks like I still underestimated him."
"That line belongs to me."
Yamamoto Genryusai vaulted out of the crater that had been blasted beyond recognition.
At once, both of their gazes locked on him.
"It was I who underestimated you."
Wounds covered him. One eye refused to open. Half of his face was streaked with blood. Almost no intact skin remained on his muscular torso, and his breathing was heavy and uneven, clearly showing the toll the fight had taken on his body.
Even so, Yamamoto Genryusai stood as straight as an ancient pine, radiating a stubborn, unyielding spirit.
Until the last breath, he would never show weakness in front of an enemy because of any injury that was not truly fatal.
"Holding a weapon shaped like a bow, yet attacking with such unrestrained ferocity."
He glanced at Ichigo, then shifted his gaze to Takeru.
"Empty handed, yet you are the one providing cover from long range."
"And when I begin to adapt to your offense, you switch back again and continue to catch me off guard."
"Of course, that is only secondary."
"Without overwhelming strength as a foundation, so called tactics are nothing more than clever tricks."
"Kurosaki Ichigo, your Bankai can be said to push the basic combat methods of a spiritual body to their limit."
"You split your Bankai's power into two parts. One part envelops your entire body, thinning and refining it into a coat of light that greatly enhances your mobility. The other part becomes a bow of spirit particles. Since spirit particles have no fixed form, it can perfectly inherit the close and long range style of your Shikai and evolve it further."
"Combined with a highly aggressive mindset that constantly disrupts the rhythm of the battle, the chance that your opponent will not be suppressed and will never expose a weakness is very close to zero."
"As for you, Shimiya Takeru…"
If, after taking this many attacks, Yamamoto still understood nothing about his opponents' powers, he would genuinely feel it was time for him to retire.
That said, he had only truly seen through Ichigo's Bankai.
With Takeru's Bankai he was still in the realm of conjecture.
"How do you like my Bankai?"
Feeling that gaze settle on him, Takeru spoke, his tone carrying a faint edge of provocation.
"I am guessing you are going to say this battle suit of mine has terrifying defensive power, that the hardness of its spiritual pressure is extremely high. If Brother Kurosaki is both long range and close range, then I am both offense and defense."
Yamamoto could not outright deny it.
Judging by what he had seen so far, that was indeed how it looked.
But he knew very well that this brat's Bankai was not nearly that simple.
Takeru had completely ignored his attack.
Ignored it.
This was not defense in any normal sense.
It was as if the attack had failed to touch even the hem of his clothing.
The armor's hardness was real enough, but whether defense was the true core of its power was another question entirely.
"Nothing more to say? Then we should move on, or the Soul Society itself may not hold out."
Takeru shifted his stance, his body settling into a posture reminiscent of an ancient martial artist. The refinement in his movements made it clear this was not empty form.
He stepped forward with his right foot, the motion light at first glance.
In the next instant the ground within a hundred meter radius shattered with a thunderous crack.
Any lingering doubt about his spiritual pressure hardness vanished.
Spiritual pressure hardness meant compressing spirit particles, increasing their density so they did not scatter under external force.
Put simply, it was the same principle as tense muscles meeting impact in a clash.
For a spiritual body, spiritual pressure was akin to muscle.
Anyone who fought naturally refined and strengthened their spiritual pressure.
Whether defending or attacking, this step could not be skipped.
With sufficient hardness, you could become immune to ordinary blades and spears. No matter how the enemy slashed you, they would not be able to break the skin.
Zaraki Kenpachi could testify to that.
Yamamoto Genryusai's ability to withstand blow after blow and still remain combat capable also depended on this.
Takeru's situation, however, was different from either of them.
If one had to draw an analogy, the closest would be the Hierro of the Arrancar.
They did not need to consciously control their spiritual pressure or deliberately tense their muscles. Their unique body structure naturally concentrated spiritual pressure to a high density, making their bodies extremely tough.
The battle suit Takeru manifested in Bankai had that same nature.
It was composed entirely of high density spiritual pressure.
Yet there was no sensation of weight dragging him down.
Light and hard.
Those words did not suit armor or a battle suit.
They were better suited to a sword.
When Takeru stomped, it felt exactly like an outburst of sword pressure.
"Yes. I should finish you two within three minutes. If this drags on any longer it will become very troublesome."
"Bankai. Zanka no Tachi."
Yamamoto pointed his long sword at them.
The sea of fire vanished.
The process barely took a heartbeat.
Across the entire battlefield, in the sky and on the ground, every flame disappeared. Not even a stray ember remained.
Only smoke and steam.
The sun above seemed to grow even more dazzling. The air wavered. Heat haze shimmered.
Moisture in the atmosphere evaporated little by little.
The sword in his hand looked blackened and charred.
It resembled a blade fresh from the forge, or one about to rust away. There was no obvious sharpness to it, and at a glance it seemed as if it would crumble at a touch.
Seeing it, Takeru and Ichigo both caught their breath.
They instinctively felt an unprecedented sense of danger.
"That is…"
Ichigo's pupils widened.
"All the flames are gathered into the blade. Instead of releasing explosive fire or burning the enemy directly, it erases everything with extreme heat and power. This is my Bankai."
Yamamoto actually explained his own ability.
Soon enough, Takeru and Ichigo understood why.
"If I am going to lose, letting my mind rot in a cell thinking about the reason would be a waste. It is better to spend that time thinking about how to win it back."
"And for that, it is necessary to correctly understand the power that defeats you."
Ichigo tightened his grip on the bow of light.
Takeru said nothing. He simply rushed forward.
His acceleration was like a sword draw, completely mirroring Hollow White's earlier movements, even matching his speed.
That too was a benefit brought by spiritual pressure hardness.
It was not merely a matter of spiritual pressure increasing after Bankai and thus improving his explosiveness.
He closed in on Yamamoto and sprang upward, completely ignoring the long sword that could erase everything, diving straight in with a flying kick.
The old man was terrifyingly calm.
Yet ripples stirred in his chest all the same.
Their name was memory.
A man who fought with sword and bow.
Another who crushed everything with brute force.
Once enemies, now standing side by side.
And that first clean, decisive leaping strike.
Now, with Shunpo, Takeru turned his entire body into a weapon and targeted the enemy's head again.
"To be thinking about the old days at a time like this. I really am getting old."
"However, it is still too early for me to lose to a youngster."
Yamamoto's eyes flared. As he tilted his head aside to avoid the kick, his charred blade slid along the path of Takeru's leg, aiming to slice open the armor on his chest and follow up with a killing blow to his unguarded body.
He had already mapped out how to bring this brat down.
The sword struck the armor and bounced off.
The blade that should have erased everything had hit a wall.
"What?"
Yamamoto's expression shifted.
This could not be explained by spiritual pressure hardness alone.
It felt more like some force specifically rejecting the very concept of an attack, treating any assault as something harmful and keeping it outside.
What exactly was this battle suit, this layer of armor?
To test it further, Yamamoto released Zanka no Tachi, South: Kaka Juman Okushi Daisojin.
Wrapped in flames measuring fifteen million degrees, he became the very image of the sun.
Even Ichigo's gigantic spiritual arrows melted before they could get close.
That much was expected.
The unexpected part was Takeru.
He ignored the heat entirely and focused everything on his fists and feet, unleashing a storm of blows.
His punches plunged into the flames without resistance. His kicks did the same.
What shook was not him, but that fiery shroud, which rippled and splashed and melted everything around them.
The ground beneath their feet continued to sink.
A basin of magma seemed ready to form at any moment.
"Do not get carried away, brat."
Yamamoto caught Takeru's fist, yanked him close, and drove the hilt of his Zanpakuto into his helmeted head.
The impact drove Takeru into the ground like a stake, yet he emerged unhurt. Not even a mark showed on the place that had taken the blow.
From that strike, however, Yamamoto seemed to grasp something. He immediately widened the distance, narrowly avoiding the barrage of spiritual blasts that erupted from Takeru's Iai style punches.
"He can ignore damage and even attacks formed from pure reishi, but he cannot ignore the physical limitations of his own body."
"Why are you backing off? Your Bankai can annihilate anything, but at this distance it cannot cut a thing. And did you not say you wanted us to understand the power we are being defeated by? I do not feel like I am losing at all right now."
Takeru's voice rang out, the metallic echo making it sound as if the battle suit itself were speaking.
"I know you are confused, Captain Commander. Since you told us your ability, I will tell you mine as well. From my point of view, this approach is better than hiding it. It improves our chances of winning and instills fear in the enemy, causing them to make mistake after mistake."
"Besides, I have no fear."
"That is why I cannot be harmed."
Even Ichigo looked at him now the way one would look at a monster.
Yamamoto's brows drew together.
"No fear. You mean that as long as you feel no fear toward the enemy, no fear toward anything at all, you can ignore all damage in that state?"
"Exactly. That is the power of Endonemī."
Takeru walked forward slowly, his cape trailing behind him like a fragment of night.
"By unifying the Zanpakuto and the Shinigami's uniform, the two outer manifestations of a Shinigami's power, this form is created."
"High spiritual pressure hardness is only natural. Zanpakuto are tough by nature, and Shinigami uniforms can be strengthened defensively by pouring spiritual power into them."
"But that is all secondary."
"It is not like a Zanpakuto, where every punch and kick becomes lethal. It is not like a Shinigami uniform that provides defense just by being worn."
"The true power is here."
He pointed at the azure core on his chest.
"As long as there is not a single trace of fear in my heart, the armor cannot break, and my body cannot be harmed."
"Of course, ignoring damage is not free. It causes wear and tear. The stronger the attack, the greater the wear. At the same time, however, the armor absorbs reishi like a living thing."
Yamamoto's expression grew darker.
"It seems you have already noticed it, Captain Commander. That is right. While we have been talking, the wear that your attacks inflicted has already been repaired."
Takeru stomped and instantly accelerated.
Yamamoto released Zanka no Tachi, South again, disappeared, and narrowly dodged a black cone shaped arrow.
That was Ichigo's doing.
The spiritual bow was not only effective in both close and long range combat; its attacks could take countless forms.
There was nothing mystical about this.
It was simply a matter of changing speed, shape, and power.
This black cone arrow was Ichigo's attempt to pierce the heat of Zanka no Tachi, mimicking Takeru's earlier support style and creating openings for his partner from range.
Now there was another reason.
He had to buy time for Endonemī to repair its wear and tear.
It was clear enough.
Revealing his own ability had not only allowed Takeru to quietly repair the damage and shake his opponent's mindset. It had also given Ichigo a clear understanding of how to coordinate their next move.
Yamamoto's response shattered that plan.
"Zanka no Tachi, South: Kaka Juman Okushi Daisojin."
He drove his sword into the ground.
The ashes of countless souls he had cut down in the past rose up and took shape as a charred skeleton army that surged in around Takeru.
The dead pushed in from all sides, binding him in place.
The endless press of bones made it impossible for him to break free in a short time.
That was exactly the result Yamamoto wanted.
"His target is me…"
Seeing the old man ignore Takeru and come straight for him, Ichigo instantly understood.
If Yamamoto dealt with him first, then no matter how broken Takeru's defense was, once the wear on Endonemī reached its limit, defeat would be certain.
"No way I am letting you do that."
Faced with this crisis, Ichigo's focus sharpened to a razor edge.
He raised his hand toward the rapidly approaching figure and loosed three massive blue white arrows, then followed with a machine gun like barrage of arrows in countless forms.
For a time, the bombardment made the ground tremble for several kilometers around.
Against Yamamoto in Bankai, it was still only a single swing.
"Zanka no Tachi, East: Kyokujitsujin."
If he could not cut through Takeru's armor, he could at least cut through an arrow storm.
If he could not manage that much, he would never have survived this long.
"You resemble him very much, but even that man fell to this old man's blade. Did you truly think you would be the exception?"
Yamamoto's spiritual pressure erupted through his entire body.
He intercepted even the hidden shots Ichigo sent to break through the skeleton ranks and relieve Takeru.
Bankai did not supply that.
It was pure swordsmanship and pure Shunpo.
Only now did Ichigo fully grasp how terrifying Takeru's will was.
The prerequisite for ignoring damage was a heart completely free of fear.
Even knowing that, how could anyone truly feel no fear when facing a figure like this?
Surrounded by the sunlight of Zanka no Tachi, watching that blade swing down, how could you possibly not react?
It was like standing behind safety glass at the zoo.
You knew, rationally, that nothing could happen to you.
But when a tiger hurled itself at the barrier, any normal person would flinch.
That instinct was unavoidable.
Takeru had suppressed even that.
Knowing this, Ichigo had even less desire to fall here.
"Getsuga Tensho."
He swung the bow of light and loosed a blue black crescent.
Yamamoto did not even need to use his sword.
He blocked it with his bare hand.
Ichigo did not run.
Relying on the extreme speed of his combat state, he threw himself into reckless close range exchanges.
Yamamoto held back deliberately, never letting his blade so much as graze Ichigo.
Instead, he concentrated on crushing his will to fight.
He slipped in an opening and drove a heavy punch into Ichigo's abdomen.
"Urgh…"
The blow was too much.
It hurt more than being cut.
Even a sword stroke would not leave his body numb and buzzing like it had been electrocuted, the pain shooting through every nerve until his brain went blank.
For an instant, he could not react at all.
That kind of pause was the biggest opening there was.
Hollow White did not let the old man take advantage of it.
He slipped neatly into Ichigo's place at the exact moment the opening formed and continued the battle.
In terms of exploiting timing and applying technique, Hollow White outclassed Ichigo.
And there was one crucial difference.
Hollow White always fought with killing intent and always fought to win.
"Bakudo, is it?"
Even if his mindset switched, the damage accumulated in the body was real.
Catching a flash of green light at his waist, Yamamoto understood at once.
"Old man, I am taking your head."
Hollow White seized his distraction and fired an arrow at his face.
Yamamoto evaded without even looking.
"What?"
"How can mere animal instinct defeat me?"
Another punch.
Hollow White could not dodge.
Yamamoto had locked him in place with Rikujokoro.
Before the bindings could be broken, he struck Hollow White across the face with the hand holding the sword.
A tearing sound followed.
"Hm?"
Yamamoto glanced at his right wrist. A gash almost deep enough to sever his hand had opened there.
"Impressive. A counter the moment I attacked. Was that animal instinct after all? No, it seems not."
As he watched Hollow White fall and Ichigo's eyes return to normal, he sensed the truth.
"That makes it even more necessary to defeat you here."
The thought had barely formed when he had already closed the distance again.
He clamped one hand around Ichigo's throat.
No matter how Ichigo struggled he would not let go. The slashes from the bow of light were dodged with small shifts of his head, every motion so relaxed it was infuriating.
Then the two of them dropped like a meteor.
The impact shook the earth.
Takeru burst out through the wall of undead and looked up.
Dust soared to the sky in a column, and Ichigo's spiritual pressure plummeted in his senses.
Seeing that, he stopped holding back.
He rushed straight toward the point of impact.
When he arrived, Ichigo was sprawled on the ground, forced out of his Bankai and unconscious.
He had likely fallen from a great height and slammed his head into the ground. Coupled with the spiritual pressure shock, that was enough to put him out.
"Brat, it is your turn."
The battle had gone on too long.
Moisture across the Soul Society was evaporating in massive amounts.
That was why Yamamoto had chosen Ichigo as the first target.
One was dealt with.
The other rushed over to support him.
The timing could not have been more perfect.
"Cut."
The instant Takeru touched down he barely caught a glimpse of the sword's arc.
Now that Yamamoto knew his defensive capability, he no longer had to worry about obliterating both armor and body. After a quick assessment he gripped his sword with both hands and unleashed the pure essence of his swordsmanship with the aspect of his Bankai.
The carefully prepared strike broke Endonemī's limit in one blow.
Cracks rippled through the armor.
It shattered and fell away, revealing Takeru's true body.
At the same time a horrible sword wound opened across his shoulder blades.
"Brat, this is…"
"It is over."
The second half of the sentence did not belong to Yamamoto.
It came from Takeru, who by all rights should have dropped out of Bankai and been at his mercy.
The reason was obvious.
Yamamoto saw it for himself.
A strange mark glimmered faintly on his own chest.
It looked like a sword cut.
A very familiar sword cut.
It matched the exact path of the strike that had just shattered the armor.
Takeru's hand rested on the hilt at his waist.
His spiritual pressure, which had been falling, flared a hundredfold.
The unimaginable torrent of power was locked tightly within his body, and his whole frame shone with dazzling light.
He looked like a god descending, or a Buddha manifest in the world.
This was Endonemī's Shikai.
The crisp sound of the scabbard snapping open and shut echoed across the ruined street.
An impossibly beautiful sword light flashed in front of Yamamoto's eyes.
"You chose Ichigo instead of me because you knew you would waste time on me. To be exact, you suspected I was still hiding something. As expected of the Captain Commander. You guessed correctly."
"My Bankai is both offensive and defensive. Its hardness can be used for both attack and defense, and the same applies to its special power. Whoever breaks the armor will bear the same mark. That forces me to revert from Bankai to Shikai, and the next cut will strike that mark no matter what."
Takeru watched as the old man was blown away by the sword light.
His breathing grew rough. Sweat beaded on his forehead. His eyes had dimmed with exhaustion.
Not long after, rubble shifted and a figure climbed stubbornly to his feet.
Yamamoto stood again.
The once charred sword in his hand had regained its normal clarity, and the oppressive spiritual pressure from before had faded.
The destruction of the Soul Society halted.
Takeru let out a long breath.
His expression held no surprise.
The old man's reaction, by contrast, was almost explosive.
"Why did you strike with the flat of your blade?"
"Because I have no desire to kill someone who has been holding back against me the whole time."
Takeru shook his head.
"I thought knocking you unconscious would be enough. I did not expect your life force to be this tenacious. No, it is more accurate to call it willpower."
"Exactly."
Yamamoto descended the rubble step by step.
A deep sword wound, identical to Takeru's, slashed across his chest. His eyes were tired, but the pressure they radiated was as crushing as ever.
"This old man will only die in battle. He will never collapse from exhaustion and watch the enemy ravage the Soul Society."
"So, brat, this is over."
"Yes. Brother Kurosaki and I are both at our limit, so…"
Takeru walked over to Ichigo, hoisted him up, and turned away.
"The rest is your job."
"You have worked hard."
Yamamoto's eyes went wide as a man in a straw hat appeared with leisurely steps and a gentle voice.
And he was not alone.
"Do you need a hand, Shimiya kun?"
A white haired man arrived as well.
"No need. Save your strength for restraining the Captain Commander. He looks like he has one more Bankai in him."
"It is fine, it is fine. You two did not show up at the agreed rendezvous point, and the fighting was too intense for us to cut in earlier. Now the old man is even angrier and more terrifying, but do not worry. You can leave it to us."
Kyoraku Shunsui smiled apologetically.
As he finished, two more figures appeared from other directions.
Together with Kyoraku and Ukitake they formed a triangular encirclement that looked unbreakable.
From Takeru's perspective, even calling it unbreakable felt modest.
Because the two who had just appeared were also at least Captain level monsters.
Yamamoto's fury and shock overlapped.
"Urahara Kisuke."
"And Sosuke Aizen."
One was a major criminal who had escaped from the Soul Society.
The other was a Captain in whom he had placed great expectations.
Even if his two disciples had rebelled, he believed they would stand unshaken like he did.
Reality had answered him with a slap.
And compared to this new revelation, the fact that his two rebellious disciples stood openly blocking his path for the sake of ryoka was even more disappointing.
"You four bastards."
His spiritual pressure exploded once more.
The temperature around them soared.
"This does not look like the state of someone who has just gone through a grueling battle."
Urahara snuck a glance at Aizen, a bitter smile twisting his thoughts.
What kind of mess had he gotten himself into?
If he had known that the powerful reinforcement Ukitake mentioned was Aizen, he would never have thought, It might not be so bad working with two broad minded Captains, and agreed even halfheartedly. He would have run for it.
On the other side, Aizen glanced back at Urahara.
"Captain Kyoraku did not kill him, but he did not let him go either. Instead he called him here to fight the Captain Commander together. Was it a sudden impulse, or did he simply fear that the three of us would not be enough? Cautious as always."
In any case, with four Captains gathered, Takeru had nothing left to worry about.
At a glance from his teacher he took Ichigo and slipped away with Shunpo.
Yamamoto could not stop him.
"You are all young compared to an old man like me, but now is not the time to expect mercy."
The faint killing intent in his voice was unmistakable.
Kyoraku and Ukitake drew their Zanpakuto with grave expressions and readied themselves.
Urahara sighed inwardly, his face turning equally serious.
Somewhere along the way he had acquired another Twelfth Division Captain's haori and put it on.
From a distance it looked like a neat row of Captain's coats, quite a sight to behold.
"Captain Commander, those words are exactly what I wanted to say."
Steel whispered.
Aizen drew his Zanpakuto with a calm smile.
"To injure my disciple to this extent, I cannot just stand by and watch as his teacher."
"I also have a debt to settle with you, for leading the greatest genius in Soul Society down the wrong path."
Takeru, who had already turned away, could not help glancing back as a thunderous roar shook the sky.
Flames roared up once more, swallowing the battlefield.
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