"Huh?"
"That voice… that's mine, isn't it?"
At first, Kenpachi Zaraki thought he'd misheard.
His rough, scarred face froze for a moment, his single visible eye widening slightly.
It had never even crossed his mind that he might be the focus of this round's ranking.
Because for as long as he could remember, the sword on his shoulder—its jagged blade nicked and cracked from countless battles—had no name.
No voice. No spirit.
Just steel and blood.
A nameless blade, carried into a thousand fights.
He had picked it up on the battlefield, years—no, centuries—ago.
And since then, he had never once heard it speak.
But now—
As the image on the massive screen shifted, the first clear shot wasn't of anyone else.
It was his back.
That broad, battle-worn back, sword resting lazily on his shoulder, the tattered bells in his hair faintly jingling with every breath.
And that voice—hoarse, violent, commanding—belonged to no one else.
"...Nozarashi."
His lips parted slightly.
"Could it be… my Zanpakutō?"
"Has it finally awakened in the future?"
He turned, glancing over his shoulder at the chipped blade resting against him.
A slow grin crept across his face—wild, delighted, almost boyish.
The unthinkable was suddenly possible.
Around him, his subordinates froze as the realization struck them too.
Madarame Ikkaku's jaw dropped.
"Wait—Captain… you mean your Zanpakutō actually awakened?!"
Yumichika Ayasegawa's usually calm tone cracked.
"Impossible… right? It's you, Captain! You've never used a release, not even once!"
And from behind them, a small voice squeaked—Yachiru Kusajishi, her pink hair bobbing.
"Heehee… see, Kenny? I told you your sword had a name!"
The room went quiet.
Everyone stared at the massive man at the center of Squad 11.
The Kenpachi—
the "King of Slashes."
The man who fought with nothing but raw strength, bloodlust, and instinct.
No kidō. No tricks. No release.
Just one truth: cut down whatever stood in his way.
That was his creed.
That was what made him Kenpachi.
But now, this video—this impossible recording from the future—claimed otherwise.
It said his nameless blade wasn't nameless at all.
That it had a voice. A form. A name—Nozarashi.
And more than that…
that it was one of the ten strongest Zanpakutō in existence.
Ikkaku blinked, disbelief twisting into nervous laughter.
"Then what the hell…? If you can use Shikai or even Bankai—how's anyone supposed to fight you now, Captain?!"
He scratched his head helplessly.
"Man… if you've got that up your sleeve, calling you 'King of Slashes' doesn't even make sense anymore!"
But Yumichika's expression softened.
He looked at Zaraki with quiet admiration.
"Congratulations, Captain. You've always been strong enough without any release at all."
"If your Zanpakutō truly awakens one day… you might surpass even the Head Captain himself."
Zaraki's grin widened.
That kind of challenge—the thought of reaching Yamamoto's level—was exactly what thrilled him most.
"I see…" he murmured, resting a huge hand on the worn hilt of his sword.
"So that's what you've been hiding all this time."
His voice was almost gentle.
Almost.
Meanwhile, as Squad 11 celebrated with disbelief and awe, the video continued.
The scene shifted.
There stood Kenpachi, Ikkaku, and Yumichika—three warriors side by side—facing off against four figures ahead of them.
The opposing group: Kaname Tōsen, Sajin Komamura, and their respective lieutenants.
A confrontation.
The air between them rippled with tension.
It was clear the pair had come to block Kenpachi's path—
to stop him from moving forward.
And, in typical fashion, Zaraki only sneered.
"Heh… two captains, huh?"
He tilted his head, cracking his neck.
"That's fine. I'll take both of you at once."
"Maybe then I'll actually get to enjoy myself."
The two before him stiffened.
Komamura's gloved hands tightened around his sword hilt.
"Still as arrogant as ever, aren't you?"
"Kenpachi Zaraki… your pride knows no bounds!"
His deep voice rumbled from beneath the metal helmet as he drew his blade.
"Then face it—"
"Bankai!!"
"Kokujō Tengen Myō'ō!!!"
The world trembled.
A massive, black spectral giant rose behind Komamura, its shadow blotting out the sun.
A colossal hand reached down, gripping an equally titanic blade.
"Roar, Tengen Myō'ō!!"
With a single swing, the giant's weapon descended—
the ground erupted.
The entire frame shook beneath the impact.
"BOOM!!!"
Smoke. Dust. A deafening explosion.
Kenpachi's form vanished in the chaos, swallowed by fire and shockwaves.
And then—
the screen went black.
The clip ended abruptly.
"Yare yare…"
"Straight to Bankai, huh? That's the Sajin I remember."
Gin Ichimaru chuckled softly, his voice dripping with amusement.
"Always the self-righteous one. Thinks 'justice' means picking fights with anyone louder than him."
He turned, glancing back toward the dark figure standing behind him.
Tōsen's expression was unreadable, but the faint tightening of his jaw gave him away.
"Gin," he said coolly, "I'd advise you to stay quiet."
Gin's grin only widened.
"Aw, come on now. You're in the video too, aren't ya?"
"Fighting side by side with ol' dog-face against Kenpachi himself."
"Hope you two don't end up embarrassing yourselves."
The jab hung in the air like a knife.
Tōsen didn't flinch.
"You think Kenpachi Zaraki is that strong?" he asked flatly.
"Don't make me laugh."
He lifted a hand, brushing invisible dust from his cloak.
"Even if that sword of his truly is called 'Nozarashi,' strength alone is meaningless."
"My Suzumushi Tsuishiki: Enma Kōrogi—its Bankai—obliterates the senses themselves. He wouldn't even know where I am before I struck him down."
The confidence in his tone was unshakable.
Tōsen's belief in his own justice—and in his weapon—ran deep.
To him, Kenpachi was nothing but a brute.
A reckless beast who mistook chaos for strength.
And yet, somewhere behind that cold conviction…
even he felt a flicker of unease.
Because if the rankings were real—
if this Nozarashi was truly one of the ten strongest Zanpakutō—
then perhaps brute strength wasn't all Zaraki had after all.
(End of Chapter)
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