"What exactly do you want?"
Kenpachi Azashiro gritted his teeth as he forced himself to stand, a flicker of anger flashing in his eyes.
But before he could finish speaking, a fist suddenly filled his entire vision.
Boom!!
With a deafening impact, Azashiro's body was shattered by the blow.
However, unlike before, he didn't disperse into Reishi. This time, his form was torn apart into a mess of scattered flesh and blood.
A tidal wave of excruciating pain crashed over him, nearly driving him into unconsciousness.
At that moment, a powerful surge of Reiatsu swept through like a raging storm.
Under the crushing force of Masatsuki Aozaki's Reiatsu, Azashiro's body had no choice but to rapidly reassemble, once again taking its original shape.
His face was pale, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth, his entire form disheveled and battered.
Masatsuki Aozaki crouched beside him, staring down coldly.
"So weak. Without your Zanpakutō, is this really all you've got?"
His voice was frigid and merciless, dripping with disdain as if mocking Azashiro's helplessness.
Azashiro's brows furrowed.
Because of his Zanpakutō's unique abilities—and the fact that he had never once undone his Bankai—he had never needed to train his physical body. His strength had remained stagnant.
His body had long since weakened to the level of an ordinary Soul from Rukongai.
If his Bankai were forcibly undone and his Reiatsu insufficient…
Then forget standing against a Gotei 13 Captain—he wouldn't even be able to fend off a regular Shinigami.
Damn it.
A heavy weight settled in his chest.
The reason he had approached Masatsuki Aozaki in the first place was twofold.
One, because he had witnessed him appear in Muken without reason, casually slaughtering sinners—a blatant violation of Seireitei's rules. That alone had been reason enough to step in.
And two, because Masatsuki Aozaki had someone he needed. There had even been a possibility of cooperation.
Even if conflict arose, Azashiro had believed that his Bankai would ensure his invincibility.
But he had been wrong.
Horribly wrong.
Masatsuki Aozaki's abilities were far beyond what he had imagined.
His sheer Reiatsu and mastery over it were monstrous—beyond anything that should be possible.
Azashiro had made a fatal mistake.
If he had never revealed himself, he could have remained hidden, waiting for the right opportunity.
But now, he was nothing more than prey on the chopping block, powerless before his enemy.
He closed his eyes, bracing himself for death.
However, at that moment, Masatsuki Aozaki suddenly shook his head and chuckled.
"It seems you've reached your limit too."
There was a trace of regret and resignation in his tone.
"Kenpachi Azashiro? No… I don't feel like calling you that. I'll stick with Sōya Azashiro instead."
Disappointment was evident in his voice.
"You don't deserve the title of Kenpachi."
His words cut through Sōya Azashiro like a blade, sharp and unforgiving.
Azashiro's expression darkened instantly.
"The name Kenpachi is mine. I earned it when I defeated Kenpachi Kuruyashiki. It's not up to you to decide whether I deserve it."
"Oh, really…"
Masatsuki Aozaki smirked, a flicker of disdain playing at his lips.
He seemed utterly indifferent to Azashiro's defiance.
After all, when Retsu lost to Zaraki, she had intended to pass the Kenpachi title to him. And yet, Masatsuki himself had defeated Zaraki.
Strictly speaking, since the second Kenpachi, none of the successors in Seireitei had truly lived up to the title.
By that logic, he should be considered the third Kenpachi.
Not that he cared enough to explain.
"When are you finally going to see yourself for who you really are?"
Masatsuki sighed, speaking in a tone one might use with a stubborn child.
Sōya Azashiro lay on the ground, his gaze complex as he looked at Masatsuki.
The light of Masatsuki's Reiatsu slowly dimmed, as if he were melting into the surrounding darkness.
Azashiro took a deep breath, forcing himself to steady his thoughts.
"Masatsuki Aozaki, what is it that you really want?"
Masatsuki grinned, flashing pristine white teeth.
"Women, of course. Taking souls. And, well, beating you to a pulp while I'm at it."
His carefree tone carried a wild, reckless amusement.
"For women?"
Azashiro frowned, murmuring to himself.
"Could it be… Urozakuro? Is she deliberately getting in my way?"
Masatsuki scoffed, rolling his eyes.
"You're the one who came to me, remember? So how exactly are we the ones blocking your path?"
His words dripped with mockery.
"Tch. This guy doesn't even understand what you're trying to do for him."
Masatsuki suddenly turned his head, looking off into the distance.
Azashiro blinked, realizing that last remark wasn't directed at him.
His mind drifted back to a certain woman.
Whenever he had spoken to her, the people around them had reacted the same way.
Masatsuki turned back, looking down at him.
"You ungrateful bastard. Have you forgotten how you survived in the first place?"
Azashiro's breath hitched.
His mind was suddenly pulled back—centuries into the past…
…
"Hadō No. 73: Sōren Sōkatsui!"
A black-haired boy watched in horror as his sister's body shattered, engulfed in flames along with the massive Hollow that had trapped her in its jaws.
That creature had been more than just an ordinary Hollow. It had stood at the very threshold of becoming a Menos.
The boy's legs buckled, and he collapsed to his knees, staring blankly ahead.
The upper half of the Hollow was gone, its body rapidly disintegrating without a trace of Ultra-Speed Regeneration.
Mocking voices from the noble spectators echoed above.
Another colossal Hollow emerged, its fangs descending toward the boy's face.
In that instant, something inside him shattered.
The sky, the earth—
Everything twisted.
When he came back to himself, the ground was littered with corpses, and Reishi drifted like dust in the air.
Hollows, nobles—it didn't matter.
Their severed limbs tangled together in a grotesque, nauseating mess.
A woman had shielded him.
His sister?
No.
Urozakuro.
Sōya Azashiro had never forgotten that day. And he never would.
…
He remained silent for a moment before finally speaking.
"Masatsuki Aozaki… what does that woman want from you?"
Masatsuki chuckled and shook his head.
"Nothing bad, really. She just wants you to become 'strong.' That's all."
Azashiro let out a quiet sigh.
"Masatsuki Aozaki… if it's Urozakuro's words, then I suggest you—"
Before he could finish, Masatsuki interrupted him.
"You… why do you always think of yourself as weak?"
"…"
Azashiro stiffened.
"You never fight me head-on, do you?" Masatsuki continued. "Every move you make, every step you take—it all screams that you think you're weak."
"That's because I am weaker than you. It's that simple."
"That's not what I meant."
Masatsuki waved his hand dismissively.
"The way you fight—it's designed to make you seem weak. It has nothing to do with your actual strength."
Azashiro couldn't argue.
Ever since the day he had been sent to the execution grounds…
He had never truly believed, deep down, that he was strong.
He's seen right through me…
Just as that thought crossed his mind, Masatsuki's grin widened.
"So, show me what you're really capable of."
Azashiro was silent for a moment before asking,
"Was it that woman, Urozakuro, who told you to do this?"
"You could say that," Masatsuki replied with a nod.
"… Am I really that strong?"
"Among the Shinigami? Yeah, you are."