"It's nothing major," Seff said with a soft sigh.
He reached down and lightly patted the hilt of the blade at his hip.
"It's just… this sword doesn't really meet my standards anymore."
"Hm?" Soichiro blinked, clearly puzzled. "What do you mean by that?"
Seeing his confusion, Seff sighed again and unsheathed the sword, pointing the tip toward a distant spot as he gestured at its length.
"You might find this hard to believe, but for someone like me now, this blade is way too short. I'd say it needs to be at least two or three times longer to even feel comfortable, just the blade, I mean."
While it was normal for katana to vary in length, saying the blade alone needed to be two or three times longer was absurd. A blade that long, paired with a regular hilt, wouldn't just be cumbersome, it'd be nearly unusable. Even wielding it single-handedly would border on madness.
Seff knew how ridiculous it sounded. He wouldn't have mentioned it at all if Soichiro hadn't asked.
Originally, he'd planned to visit the Seireitei and see if any smiths or blade-masters could forge him something more suitable. After all, the one he had now was scavenged off a dead Shinigami, it wasn't even truly his.
But then Soichiro showed up, offering a reward Seff couldn't refuse. He figured postponing that plan a little longer wouldn't hurt.
Now, though… it was starting to.
The discomfort didn't show, well, maybe it did. At least Soichiro had noticed. The feeling gnawed at Seff's nerves like a feather brushing constantly against the inside of his heart, frustrating but impossible to grasp.
Every swing of the blade left him tempted to throw it away. He'd rather tear the Hollows apart with his bare hands.
Seff never imagined he'd find himself tormented by something so trivial.
Had he heard someone else complaining like this a month ago, he'd probably have scoffed and said, "What blade doesn't cut? Stop being picky."
Soichiro looked genuinely surprised, so much so that even Seff could see it plainly on his face. It was the first time he'd ever seen the man react like that.
Staring at the blade in Seff's hand, Soichiro hesitated, then asked carefully, "Would you mind… letting me take a look at your sword?"
In Soul Society, where guns didn't exist and steel was king, handing someone your weapon was practically handing over your life.
If someone in the 80th District had asked him this, Seff wouldn't have said a word, he would've sliced them down on the spot.
But this time…
He hesitated. For several seconds, his fingers lingered on the hilt.
Then he reversed his grip and offered the sword to Soichiro.
Truthfully, Seff didn't hold any deep sentiment toward the weapon. He'd only kept using it because it happened to be the one he picked up. He'd already been planning to replace it in the Seireitei. If he were already there, he might've just gifted it away.
His hesitation wasn't about attachment, it was practicality.
Even if the sword no longer felt right in his hand, there was still a huge difference between being armed and being unarmed in a fight. That was the only reason he hadn't thrown it away yet.
Still, in the end, Seff chose to trust Soichiro.
They'd spent over half a month together. And while he still didn't fully understand the man, there was a part of Soichiro's character he believed he had seen.
In that part, Soichiro wasn't someone who would betray him over something like this.
If Seff turned out to be wrong, then that would be his own mistake to bear.
Soichiro was sharp, he sensed Seff's hesitation clearly.
When Seff finally handed him the sword, Soichiro accepted it with quiet appreciation and no further comment.
He held it up, examining it carefully.
The sword's make was strange. Seff had never sharpened it, not once, but it had never dulled. In fact, the more he used it, the sharper it became.
If not for the way the blade never bled on its own, Seff might have wondered if it was some cursed, sentient blade from legend.
And as Soichiro examined it more closely, his expression shifted from curiosity to open shock.
He stared at Seff, his voice hushed with disbelief.
"You've… been fighting with an Asauchi this entire time?"
"…Huh?"
Seff looked puzzled. "Asauchi? Is that this sword's name or something? You recognize it?"
"No. No, this can't be…"
Even Soichiro couldn't hide the fear that began creeping into his eyes.
Until now, he'd been watching Seff's fighting style with detached amusement, admiring, yes, but calm. He'd assumed Seff had at least partially awakened his blade, that some form of release was involved.
With enough experience and combat exposure, it wasn't too surprising for someone to be able to mow down dozens of ordinary Hollows. That's what Soichiro believed, and why he never bothered to inspect Seff's weapon too closely.
But now?
Now he saw it.
The sword had no release form. No transformation. The guard, the hilt, everything was standard issue. A generic template.
An Asauchi.
That meant Seff hadn't awakened the blade.
Hadn't bonded with it.
Hadn't communed with it.
And yet, he could wield such overwhelming strength.
Which meant one thing: none of the power Seff displayed came from the sword.
It came from himself.
He wasn't borrowing power.
He was the power.
A monster unlike any Soichiro had ever seen.
Soichiro silently reeled from the revelation. He thought back to how crudely Seff had been suppressing his spiritual pressure, already then, something had felt off. But now it was undeniable.
On the surface, he remained composed. Calm. Professional.
He handed the blade back.
Then asked, tentatively, "Have you… ever tried communicating with your sword?"
"Hmm? Like sword and man as one? That kind of thing actually exists? I'm no sword god, you know."
Soichiro opened his mouth to respond, but then,
The air grew heavy.
A crushing pressure suddenly descended from above, bearing down on both of them.
They looked up in unison,
Somewhere along the way, the sky had cracked open.
A jagged tear ripped through the sky, like the night itself had been shredded.
From it, a hulking, obsidian form began to descend.
A creature as massive as a mountain, its body cloaked in tattered black that billowed like a witch's shawl. A gaping hole yawned in its chest. Its face was a ghost-white mask with a twisted grin and an impossibly long nose, like a clown born of nightmares.
Seff and Soichiro stood before it, two small figures, no more than specks.
Like mice before a giant.
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200 P.S = 1 Extra Chapters
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🚨 TL/N 💥
Hello guys Fanfic recommendation!
Check out my other work:
💥> Naruto: Mind Control (Highly Recommended)
💥> Naruto: Cooking Makes Me Stronger
If you like smart and strong MC, this fanfic is for you.
It's Peak.
Give it a chance and you won't be disappointed