The pitch-black wooden sword began to seep with dazzling golden light, tangible aura spilling out along the rough grain.
It was not Haki, but a purer form of life force.
The wooden sword creaked in his hand, as if it might crumble apart at any moment under Zaraki's grip.
"Don't fall apart on me so fast,"
Zaraki gave a low chuckle.
The cloth shoes on his feet burst apart in an instant.
His whole body shot forward like a cannonball, wrapped in that golden storm, crashing straight into the depths of the dark bamboo forest.
There was no fancy footwork. Only speed and power.
He moved in a straight line, and wherever he passed, tough green bamboo that had stood for decades fell in swathes!
...
Deep in the bamboo forest, Koushirou's perpetually narrowed eyes snapped open.
A battle spirit he had not felt in years surged once more through the veins of this retired swordsman.
Faced with that kind of violent charge, dodging would have been a stain on a swordsman's pride.
"Since you're this eager..."
The blackened bamboo sword in Koushirou's hand slowly rose.
The surrounding air instantly turned heavy, as if all the moisture in the bamboo forest had been drawn toward that blade.
"One Sword Style: Torrent!"
The blackened bamboo sword fell.
The sword's momentum came down like a bursting river.
Golden aura and that black torrent collided violently in the middle of the bamboo forest.
Boom—!!
For an instant, the whole world fell silent.
A visible white shockwave burst outward right after, crushing every bamboo stalk within fifty meters into dust.
Zoro had just reached the edge of the bamboo forest. Before he could even catch sight of Zaraki's back, the violent gust sent him flying.
He crashed hard against a moss-covered rock.
"Cough, cough..."
He clutched his chest, a metallic taste rising in his throat.
Zoro looked up, his eyes full of shock.
This was what that guy called training? This was a goddamn natural disaster!
Amid the whirling bamboo leaves and dust, two figures clashed again and again at high speed.
Every collision came with the harsh scream of exploding air.
The wooden sword in Zaraki's hand lacked Murasame's edge, but under that terrifying Spiritual Pressure, its hardness rivaled that of a famed blade.
Every swing carried enough force to split mountains and shatter stone.
Koushirou fought while retreating.
His blackened bamboo sword moved with exquisite precision, yet Zaraki's way of fighting—trading wound for wound—kept pressing him down.
'This guy is getting stronger.' Koushirou's expression grew more and more grim.
Even in the middle of this life-and-death struggle, he could feel the young man's strength climbing without pause.
That beast-like combat instinct was devouring his swordsmanship at a frightening pace.
A move that forced him back one moment would be met head-on the next with a posture too strange to predict, followed by a savage counterattack.
He was no ordinary man, but a raw piece of iron being hammered into shape in the middle of battle.
"Is that an earthquake?"
"It came from the dojo!"
Voices and torchlight appeared on the distant village path.
The commotion had grown too great and the villagers had noticed it at last.
Koushirou's brows tightened.
He could not drag this out any longer.
If a battle on this scale reached the villagers, the consequences would be disastrous.
And there was something else he wanted to see.... whether this young man, with that monstrous body, could truly grasp that realm.
"Zaraki!"
Using the recoil from a clash, Koushirou suddenly leapt back and landed atop a protruding boulder.
The aura around him changed at once.
No longer the gentleness of water.
No longer the violence of a torrent.
Silence settled over him completely, as if he had become one with the blackened bamboo sword in his hand, the stone beneath his feet, and the wind behind his back.
"The Breath of All Things lies in listening."
Koushirou's voice cut through the chaotic wind and reached Zaraki clearly.
"You want to learn Iron Cutting? Then carve it into your body with your flesh—learn what it means to cut through anything!"
The blackened bamboo sword in his hand was no longer pitch-black.
A layer of transparent ripples shimmered across it.
This was the peak of a swordsman's craft.
The Secret Art of Steel Cutting.
Before the strike was even released, Zaraki could already feel the sting of death prickling across his skin.
"Come on!"
Zaraki stepped forward instead of back, the savage grin on his face reaching its peak.
His blood screamed. Every cell in his body craved that strike.
He did not defend.
Even the wooden sword he had been using to block lowered by two inches.
At a distance, Zoro's pupils shrank violently. His heart felt like it had been seized in a giant hand.
That posture left his front completely open.
'Was he trying to die?!'
"One Sword Style: Lion's Song!"
Koushirou vanished.
A sharp silver line cut through space and dust alike, aimed straight at Zaraki's neck.
It was too fast for thought.
But Zaraki's beast-like instinct moved faster.
At the very instant that silver line was about to land, his body sank sharply—not to dodge, but to catch it.
Koushirou's killing blow cut deep into Zaraki's left trapezius, even biting into the collarbone with a harsh scrape of bone.
It stopped there.
The steel-like muscle locked down on the blackened bamboo sword and held it in place.
Under that brutal clamp, the front half of the bamboo sword cracked apart in a spray of splinters.
"Got you."
Zaraki lifted his head.
Blood covered his face, but his white teeth showed in a fierce grin, and madness burned in his eyes.
Koushirou's pupils contracted.
'This madman had used that method to break the Secret Art of Steel Cutting?!'
Before Koushirou could pull back, Zaraki's right hand was already moving.
The golden wooden sword that had been waiting for this moment slammed forward like a battering ram, carrying all of his aura and monstrous strength, and struck Koushirou square in the unguarded abdomen.
Thump—!!
A dull, heavy impact rang out.
The clothes on Koushirou's back ripped apart instantly.
His whole body flew backward like a kite with its string cut, smashing through more than a dozen thick bamboo stalks before crashing heavily into the distant ground and throwing up a cloud of dust.
Zaraki staggered and dropped to one knee.
He yanked out the bamboo splinters embedded in his shoulder—fragments from Koushirou's shattered bamboo sword at the last moment.
Blood immediately soaked half his body.
But he was laughing.
"Ha... HAHAHAAH.. this is good!"
He grabbed the half bottle of rum he had thrown aside earlier.
It was mixed with dirt and blood now, but he did not care.
He tilted it back and drank in big gulps.
The burning liquor ran down his throat and washed over his wounds.
The pain only made the light in his eyes grow fiercer.
"S-sensei!"
Ignoring the pain in his own body, Zoro stumbled into the bamboo grove, which now looked like ruins.
The dust slowly settled.
Koushirou was leaning against a broken bamboo trunk, blood at the corner of his mouth.
His signature glasses were half shattered, leaving him in a rare state of utter disarray.
"Sensei! Are you alright?! That bastard—" Zoro's eyes were red. He fumbled uselessly, not knowing how to help his teacher.
"Cough... don't move."
Koushirou raised a hand, a bitter smile appearing on his face.
He looked toward the blood-soaked young man not far away, still laughing as he drank, his expression complicated.
"Zoro... there's no need to ask."
Koushirou wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. His voice was weak, but every word came out clearly.
"I lost."
Zoro froze where he stood.
His mind went blank.
'Lost?'
He looked at the wound on Zaraki's shoulder, so deep that bone could be seen.
If that slash had landed on him, his head would have been gone.
That man had taken it with his bare body.
The gap between them filled Zoro with a powerlessness and shame he had never felt before.
"Burp—"
Zaraki belched and casually tossed the empty bottle aside.
At that moment, the cold mechanical voice rang through his mind like heavenly music.
[Ding! Detected that the host has defeated East Blue hidden master Koushirou.]
[Combat Rating: S (Insane wound-for-wound exchange, matches Kenpachi Zaraki's combat style)]
[Reward: Template Unlock Progress +3%, current total progress: 10%.]
[Condition met. System function unlocked: Shop.]
[Stored points from previous battles and milestones have now been settled.]
[Current available points: 1520.]
The moment the words "10%" fell, a torrent of information even bigger and more violent than before poured into Zaraki's mind.
The hands that had only known how to swing on instinct now seemed to receive memories that stretched across countless years.
A scarred demon, using battle after battle in Soul Society to temper the simplest and most violent killing techniques.
[Skill Unlocked: Swordsmanship (Dual Sword)]
[Note: That man disdained technique, but once he took up two swords, the true nightmare began.]
Zaraki clenched his fist, feeling the qualitative change in the power inside his body.
So that was it.
Before, he had only been a child swinging a stick.
Now, he had finally touched the hilt of a sword!
...
The villagers' shouts drew closer in the distance, already clear enough to hear.
Zaraki slowly got to his feet.
Koushirou tried to push himself up, shock flashing through his eyes.
Even after the battle had ended, this young man's aura was still changing so violently?
"Zaraki-san..."
Koushirou held his chest, calm slowly returning to his gaze, along with a trace of stern seriousness.
"It seems our duel ends here. If we keep going, it won't stop at destroying buildings."