Chapter 48: Shadow-Boxing is a Martial Artist's Instinct
Sensing that wild, violent aura approaching at breakneck speed, Ichigo Kurosaki found himself in an excellent mood. With his hands in his pockets and a leisurely gait, he even began to hum a soft tune.
His only regret was that when he declared his presence with battle intent and issued that silent invitation, the truly "potent" existences in the Seireitei didn't all respond. Some exposed their presence but didn't come; others didn't even reveal their auras.
But it didn't matter. He wouldn't miss a single one of these blissful feasts. He would eat his way through them, one by one.
Devour everything... consume all... swallow the myriad phenomena...
A certain whisper surged violently within Ichigo's heart! Listening to it, his smile widened.
As Ichigo strolled along, he naturally encountered Soul Reapers. Their reactions were remarkably consistent: the moment they witnessed his presence, their legs began to tremble uncontrollably. This instinctive fear-induced shaking spread rapidly from their legs to their faces, and even the Zanpakuto in their hands began to rattle.
Don't go there. Don't get close. Or disaster will strike!
A powerful premonition rose from their souls—no, from somewhere deeper and more primordial than the soul. These Soul Reapers couldn't understand where this feeling came from, but they made their choice instinctively. Only after Ichigo hummed his tune and brushed past them did they collapse onto the ground, gasping for air to alleviate the psychological pressure that had nearly shattered them.
After walking for a long time, Ichigo suddenly stopped, a look of confusion crossing his face. The violent aura responding to his battle intent was approaching, yet for some reason, it kept taking detours—turning left and right, sometimes even heading further away.
"Could this be... a legendary military tactic?"
Ichigo hadn't read professional martial arts manuals, but he had heard common folklore about swordsmanship. Legend said that Miyamoto Musashi arrived deliberately late for his duel with Sasaki Kojiro, causing the latter to become agitated and unable to maintain peak fighting spirit, which secured Musashi the victory.
Whether the story was true, Ichigo couldn't say. Musashi, as Japan's traditional Sword Saint, had N-versions of every story. But the logic held some weight.
Unless he's doing this on purpose, could a guy like that actually just be lost?
Ichigo didn't dwell on it. He already had a track record of driving a dump truck to hit his opponents before a duel. He was mentally prepared for anything—be it a sneak attack, a fair duel, or a group brawl, he was willing to accept it all. In Ichigo's view, to walk the path of the Strongest capable of beating the entire world, these were necessary trials.
He continued his stroll, but he wasn't just waiting. Occasionally, he would stop to admire a uniquely patterned brick on a plain wall or turn to quietly appreciate the wildflowers growing by the roadside. No one knew what Ichigo saw in these ordinary sights; they only saw him occasionally let out a smile of disdain or appreciation.
BOOM!
The late-coming enemy smashed through a wall, swiping away the dust and stepping out with his head held high.
He wore the haori of the 11th Division Captain. He was tall, with a rugged face and a black eyepatch. His hair was styled like a hedgehog's, adorned with small bells—a very non-mainstream aesthetic. A cute pink-haired little girl was perched on his shoulder.
"Kenpachi, Kenpachi! I told you! This direction was right!"
The man called Kenpachi curled his lip. "My sense of direction was clearly the right one. A straight line would have gotten us here ages ago. It's because you kept nagging that I was lost for so long. Fine..."
The man turned to look at Ichigo, a savage smile splitting his face. "Kid, you're the one who sent out that invitation, right? It's been a long time since I've seen a Ryoka with this much balls. My name is Kenpachi Zaraki, Captain of the 11th Division. I hope you're durable enough to be cut..."
To Kenpachi's confusion, Ichigo remained with his back turned, focused on the mundane scenery. He even raised a hand and gave a small wave, signaling for Kenpachi to stay calm. Kenpachi asked, puzzled:
"Ryoka kid, what are you looking at?"
After a moment, Ichigo pointed toward a certain corner and said leisurely:
"Many years ago, a massive explosion seems to have occurred in the Seireitei. Then, many Soul Reapers were hunting creatures called Bounts. A Bount fought those Soul Reapers right here. It's quite interesting; those Bounts had decent power but didn't seem to know how to use it very well. A shame. I wonder if Bounts still exist; I'd like to fight them."
Kenpachi looked where Ichigo was pointing, but he saw only an ordinary corner. He tilted his head, thinking, before showing a look of realization:
"Oh, right, I think that did happen. I was lost back then and didn't get to cut any of those Bounts that escaped the lab. Don't know how they feel under a blade. But Ryoka kid... is your ability seeing history? Sounds pretty weak."
Ichigo slowly turned around to face Kenpachi. "Your aura is pure and violent. You are a 'delicious' opponent. While waiting, I was impatient to taste you. But then, I felt a bit of regret. The Soul Society's history is so long; 'delicious' opponents must be as numerous as stars. Born in this era, I am destined to miss them, which is truly lamentable. So, I began to imagine what powerhouses existed in the past. And then, I found I could see them... I could feel them... those lingering traces of aura left in history."
As Ichigo turned, Kenpachi instinctively gripped his Zanpakuto tighter. The smile on his face instantly escalated to a level of "Perverted Face Acting." No confirmation needed—just looking at him, Kenpachi could feel it in his heart... Soul King above, this enemy was worth cutting to death!
"Interesting. And what did you see?"
Facing Kenpachi's manic expression, Ichigo kept his hands in his pockets, smiling calmly:
"I saw quite a bit. For instance, a thousand years ago, the Captain-Commander Yamamoto returning in triumph with the first-generation Gotei 13. That suffocating scent of blood on him... it was intoxicating. In fact, if you had arrived any later, I think I wouldn't have just been seeing and feeling him; I might have been able to touch him directly and have a grand battle with the Yamamoto of a millennium ago. Of course, I can't actually time travel, but 'Shadow-Boxing' with the residual auras of the strong is no problem. I almost achieved it just now, but I returned because you arrived..."
Ichigo held out his right hand. On the back of it, a sword wound appeared. A searing, bloodthirsty aura swirled around the cut—so clear and unmistakable. Whether it was a hallucination or something else was impossible to say, because the wound was quickly erased by the pressure of writhing flesh, leaving behind skin as smooth as before.
Kenpachi's smile upgraded from "Pervert" to "Super Pervert." "Ryoka kid, I take back what I said. Your ability is more than just 'good.' After I cut you down, you must teach me!"
Ichigo said leisurely: "It's not an 'ability.' It's just an instinct that naturally emerges when a Martial Artist reaches the Absolute Realm. But if it's you, I think you can learn it. If you're still alive by then, you can come find me anytime."
"Excellent! Kid, take out your weapon!"
"I already have."
Facing Kenpachi's roar, Ichigo—left hand still in his pocket—casually shook his right hand at him.
"You've got nerve!"
With a perverted grin, Kenpachi lunged forward, gripping his Zanpakuto for a powerful overhead strike! A gale rushed forth, and clamorous Reiatsu slammed down along with the blade.
Kenpachi's Zanpakuto was unique—simple in design, its edge shattered and uneven, looking like a scrap piece of metal on the verge of breaking. But driven by his extremely violent spiritual power, this near-broken blade looked terrifyingly lethal, its jagged edges resembling a demon's fangs.
Facing this strike, Ichigo didn't parry. Instead, he spread his arms and slightly closed his eyes, wearing an expression as if he were enjoying a warm afternoon breeze!
Ichigo expressed his will through action: he intended to use his body to feel, to taste, and to enjoy the enemy's attack.
The blade slammed down. The violent, sharp Reiatsu even pierced through Ichigo's body, slicing diagonally through the building behind him. Amidst the thunderous collapse of the structure, blood erupted violently from Ichigo's chest!
The strike landed, but Kenpachi's smile suddenly vanished. Ichigo slowly opened his eyes. Amidst the blood spraying into the air and falling back down, his eyes were peerlessly cold and sharp—a terrifying sight.
"Mr. Kenpachi Zaraki... what exactly did I do to make you disrespect me so much? To hit me with a piece of scrap iron that would struggle to even butcher a chicken... Or is this 'contemptuous attack' one of your military tactics? If so, I must say... your Purity is a bit low!"
Kenpachi didn't speak. Because that strike he just landed on Ichigo provided a sensation he had never encountered in his long career of cutting people down.
End of Chapter
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