Soul Society – West Gate
A battle had just concluded—though "battle" was too generous a word. Kurosaki Ichigo, newly arrived in the Seireitei, had effortlessly defeated Jidanbō Ikkanzaka, the towering gatekeeper of the West Gate.
Jidanbō stared at the two halves of his shattered axe, then sank to his knees, tears streaming down his cheeks.
"You're the first person to beat me in decades…" he sniffled. "So… go on. The gate is yours."
After a moment, he wiped his eyes with the back of his massive hand, squared his shoulders, and turned toward the colossal gate. With a groan of effort, he planted his feet and began to lift it.
"Whoa! That's awesome!" Ichigo grinned, eyes wide with admiration.
Behind him, Uryū Ishida adjusted his glasses with a quiet sigh, Sado Yasutora gave a small nod of respect, and Inoue Orihime clapped her hands together, beaming. "Jidanbō-kun is so strong!"
"Don't get too excited yet," a low voice cautioned.
Perched on a nearby stone, a sleek black cat—Shihōin Yoruichi—narrowed her golden eyes. "This place isn't as welcoming as it looks."
"Relax, Yoruichi," Ichigo said, fists clenched with determination. "I trained harder than ever before coming here. This time, I won't lose—not to anyone!"
Especially not to you… Akira Kuchiki. The name burned in his mind like a brand. You took Rukia. You nearly killed me. And you didn't even see me as worth remembering.
As if summoned by his thoughts, the gate groaned fully open—and Jidanbō froze.
His face drained of color. His hands trembled. Even his voice cracked.
"S-Sixth Division… C-Captain!?"
Standing just beyond the threshold, arms folded and expression unreadable, was Akira Kuchiki. His captain's haori hung perfectly in place, white on his left shoulder, untouched by dust or wind. Though newly appointed, his reputation had spread like wildfire through the Seireitei: cold, brilliant, and ruthless.
"Tch," Akira murmured, his voice like ice sliding over steel. "The first thing I hear upon returning is the sound of a gatekeeper boasting about a record that only exists because no one of consequence ever bothered to test it."
Jidanbō shrank back, sweat beading on his forehead. He knew—his so-called "undefeated" streak was a farce. Captains and lieutenants passed through without challenge; they didn't need to fight him.
"I—I only followed the gatekeeper's code!" he stammered. "If someone defeats me in fair combat, I must open the gate! That's the rule!"
Akira's gaze didn't waver. "Your duty is to guard the gate—not to decide who is worthy of entry. By yielding to intruders, you've compromised the security of the Seireitei itself."
He took a single step forward. The air grew heavier.
"Lower the gate. Now. Do so, and I'll let you live."
Jidanbō's breath hitched. He knew the order wasn't a request. Disobey, and he'd be cut down before he could blink.
"Hey!" Ichigo's voice cut through the tension like a blade. "Don't just stand there talking like I'm not even here!"
He stepped forward, Zanpakutō gripped tight, eyes blazing. The sight of Akira—calm, dismissive, untouched by the chaos Ichigo had caused—ignited every ounce of fury in him.
Akira turned his head slightly, just enough to glance at Ichigo from the corner of his eye. "Still as loud and reckless as ever," he said flatly. "Some things never change."
That was it. That look—the same one from their last encounter, when Ichigo lay broken and bleeding while Akira walked away without a second thought.
"You bastard!" Ichigo roared, reiatsu flaring around him like wildfire.
Kurosaki Ichigo swiftly unsheathed Zangetsu and charged forward in an instant, bringing his blade down with full force.
Clang!
Sparks erupted as his strike was intercepted—his opponent's zanpakutō met the blow head-on, halting it dead in its tracks.
"I'm not the same as before!" Ichigo shouted, his grip tightening on Zangetsu. "This time, I'm going to defeat you!"
Akira smirked. "Where's that so-called 'lightsaber' of yours? Take it out—without it, you don't stand a chance." He tilted his head, voice dripping with disdain. "Against someone like you? I don't even need to draw my true power."
Nearby, Yoruichi Shihōin crouched low, muscles coiled, ready to intervene at a moment's notice. Part of her mission was to ensure Ichigo's survival, and she watched Akira like a hawk—she knew his techniques well. If he attempted anything overwhelming, she'd move before he could unleash it.
Ichigo scowled. "Hah?! You'll regret underestimating me!"
Frustration boiling over, he turned and shouted to Ishida and the others, "Stay back! This fight is mine—one-on-one!"
"Reckless," Akira scoffed—then swatted Ichigo away with a single, brutal swing.
Ichigo gritted his teeth, regained his footing instantly, and lunged back into the fray. Zangetsu clashed against Akira's blade in rapid succession.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
But with each exchange, Ichigo was driven steadily backward.
The battle was brutally short. In mere seconds, a flash of crimson streaked through the air—Ichigo gasped as searing pain tore through his side.
"Ahh—!" He staggered, blood dripping from a fresh wound, but refused to yield. He swung again despite the pain—only to be forced into retreat once more.
"Kurosaki-kun!" Orihime's voice trembled with worry. She could only watch helplessly as Ichigo's injuries mounted, his defenses crumbling under Akira's relentless assault.
Yoruichi's expression darkened. "The difference in their swordsmanship is enormous… almost insurmountable."
She'd known Akira was skilled—but witnessing his precision firsthand was another matter entirely.
Breathing heavily, Ichigo realized the truth: he was completely outmatched in close combat.
"I have to create some distance—now!"
Gritting through the pain, he forced himself back, leaping nearly a hundred meters away—even as another deep gash split his shoulder.
Akira smirked. "Your speed and strength are slightly better than before… but that's it. You're still trash."
Ichigo clenched his fists, confidence shaken. He'd charged in with conviction, but reality struck harder than any blade—he wasn't strong enough.
Yet hearing that mocking voice again, his frustration ignited into fury.
"I haven't even begun to show my true strength!"
He gathered every ounce of his reiatsu, channeling it into Zangetsu. The black blade pulsed with raw energy as he raised it high above his head.
"—Getsuga… Tenshō!!"