The broken hilt of his katana hung at Kenpachi's side like a reminder of failure.
It had snapped under the weight of Yachiru's Ice Release—the one thing in the world that had overpowered him without hesitation, without fear. He hadn't stopped thinking about the clash since.
Now he wandered into the Mizukage's office, again.
Gengetsu Hōzuki looked up. "You lost something?"
Kenpachi dropped the broken blade on the desk.
"Need it fixed," he said. "Stronger."
Gengetsu frowned, lifting the hilt. "This is beyond basic repairs. Blade's fractured at the chakra core. It's unstable."
"Good," Kenpachi said, grinning. "Means I can make it mine now."
Gengetsu eventually sighed and leaned back. "There are a few ways to do it. You want something durable, chakra conductive, something that won't break when you throw half your soul into it."
He ticked options off on his fingers:
Chakra metal, mined in the Land of Iron—rare and expensive.
Refined Kiba-grade alloys (same used in the twin Kiba blades of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen)—reactive to lightning chakra.
Adamantine steel, known to resist most chakra-infused strikes, though extremely heavy.
"And then," Gengetsu added slowly, "there's the corpse-metal blend—used by the Mist's older blacksmiths. Forged in blood and bone, designed for blades that aren't meant to be wielded by sane men."
Kenpachi's eyes gleamed.
"Where do I get that?"
Gengetsu smirked. "You already have."
Kenpachi blinked.
Gengetsu nodded to the katana's broken hilt. "That merc you killed—the one who carried the original blade—you know where he was from?"
Kenpachi shook his head.
"Land of Iron. The sword's core alloy is chakra metal. Mixed with bone-dust and cooled in blood. That wasn't a cheap weapon. He might've stolen it, but it's worth reforging."
Kenpachi grinned wider. "Then how do I fix it?"
"You don't," Gengetsu said. "You remake it."
𓂃𓂃
It took three days in the underbelly of Kirigakure, in a hidden forge once used by the early founders of the Seven Swordsmen.
The blacksmith—a one-eyed relic named Kurozane—worked without asking questions. He used chakra fire, pressure seals, and blood offerings. Kenpachi watched the entire time, aura radiating like a furnace.
At the end, the sword was reborn.
It was massive—closer to a cleaver than a katana. Jagged along the spine, rough-edged like it had been torn from the earth itself. The handle was wrapped in blackened hide, the metal etched with crude, uneven chakra flow grooves.
This wasn't a blade for technique.
It was a weapon for destruction.
Kenpachi held it up, feeling its weight.
It didn't sing. It roared.
"What are you gonna call it?" Kurozane rasped.
Kenpachi looked at the weapon—then into the mist, remembering the duel. The blood. The grin on Yachiru's face. The pain in his side. His own helpless laughter.
He whispered the name, like a secret only he should know:
"𝘕𝘰𝘻𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘪."
Gengetsu would later ask what the word meant.
Kenpachi would shrug.
"Don't know. Just feels right."
𓂃𓂃
⚠ Blade Profile: Nozarashi
▸ Type: Greatsword / Cleaver
▸ Core: Chakra metal + blood-forged alloy
▸ Chakra Flow Compatibility: Extremely high
▸ Special Traits: Absorbs and amplifies chakra, heavy impact capable of shattering reinforced stone
▸ Drawback: Unrefined. Consumes immense chakra when used recklessly
▸ Alignment: Symbiotic with Kenpachi's chakra—its "rage" seems to grow when blood is spilled