Bleach: Reborn — Chapter 149 - Top 16 — The Fight Begins

CLANG!

Wayne’s katana met the sword pressure head-on. The distinctive ring of metal on metal rang out. The pressure split under his blade, but the standard-issue sword in his hands let out a cringe-inducing wail. Even wrapped in his Reiatsu, there was only so much punishment the blade could take.

“First-year. No Zanpakutō. How exactly do you plan to fight me?” Kuzume Daisuke’s form bled back into visibility as the bent light fell away. His Zanpakutō had changed shape, a hooked cleaver of a blade now gripped in his hands. Four wind grooves stood out from the hilt, likely the source of the sword’s hum when he poured Reiatsu into it.

“All that setup just to release your Zanpakutō?” Wayne’s katana sheathed itself in Reiatsu again. He faced his opponent anew in the sky.

“Your Shunpo is fast,” Kuzume Daisuke said. “I know I can’t match you there, and my release incantation takes too long. You’d have one-shot me before I finished. So I sealed your movements first, then released. Only way I could seize the upper hand.”

“Solid analysis.” The corner of Wayne’s mouth tugged upward. “This is how a fight should be.”

He raised his blade and moved. Shunpo launched him into Kuzume Daisuke’s face in an instant, his sword coming down toward the man’s head. Miyamotomaru sang out and met the katana.

The grinding shriek of metal rang again. Wayne’s sword shuddered. The sound tightened his brow. He pulled back fast, put distance between them, and ran a finger along his blade’s edge. Multiple notches had already rolled into the steel.

This guy’s sword...

“Sharp.” Kuzume Daisuke grinned at the look on Wayne’s face. “You guessed right. Miyamotomaru generates ultra-high-frequency vibrations on impact. It disperses Reiatsu — fast.”

“Figured.” Wayne flicked his katana. Reiatsu wrapped it again, tighter this time.

“Hmph. A mantis trying to stop a chariot. Let me show you what Miyamotomaru can really do.” Kuzume Daisuke raised his blade and slashed downward. A cyan sword beam shot toward Wayne.

“Just sword pressure.” Wayne held his katana horizontal and cut a single straight line. A pale-blue beam flew out to meet it. The two collided midair and detonated into a rippling wave of Reiatsu that kicked up a howling wind.

“What!?”

Kuzume Daisuke stared. So did the stands. Wayne hadn’t used sword pressure once in any of his previous fights. Now he’d just unleashed a beam powerful enough to match Miyamotomaru blow for blow.

“This Tsukishiro Hinamori — he’s actually that strong? He’s a first-year.”

“Didn’t they say he was running on fumes?”

The murmur from below reached Wayne’s ears.

Right. Forgot to put on a show.

He twitched his mouth and swung again, sending out beam after beam. Kuzume Daisuke answered in kind. But Wayne’s strikes grew slower, weaker, selling the story that he was nearly spent.

Kuzume Daisuke’s side told the opposite story. His power didn’t dip. It climbed. That seemed to be one of Miyamotomaru’s traits, the longer the fight dragged on, the stronger the sword’s hum became.

Wayne’s beam finally shattered under the onslaught. The cyan arc kept coming. He dropped his body and barely slipped past it.

“What’s wrong, first-year? Done already?” Kuzume Daisuke sneered like the match was already his. He kept swinging from above, beam after beam slashing down.

Wayne dodged on the ground, left and right, looking as miserable as possible.

“Big brother!” Momo shouted from the sidelines, her voice tight with worry. She didn’t know the truth. All she saw was her brother scrambling, none of that heroic stance from before.

“Just forfeit, Hinamori! You’re a first-year — no shame in losing to a sixth-year.” The bettors who’d wagered against him started urging him to quit. Their money depended on it. Longtime gamblers on the academy tournaments knew these upper-year students well. Kuzume Daisuke had performed exceptionally in the previous fifth-year Ranking Tournament. Top 16 potential, no question. Most people had put their money on the veterans. Wayne’s side was thin, only a handful had bet on him. Mizusue and Ikkaku had gone in heavy, of course, but aside from Mizusue, who knew Wayne was holding back, every other bettor was sweating. Ikkaku and Iba weren’t among them, they were on patrol outside the venue. Rangiku, though, standing beside Isshin Shiba, was so nervous her heart felt ready to leap out of her chest. This was over half a year’s drinking money. She’d gone all in.

“Forfeit, first-year. You’re not my equal.” Kuzume Daisuke halted his barrage and looked down at Wayne. “Your blade. Your Reiatsu. Neither one measures up. Why keep struggling?”

“Tired?”

Wayne lifted his head, glancing up at the sky with casual ease. He’d dodged every single attack.

“Then it’s my turn.”

Shunpo launched him skyward. His katana crashed against Miyamotomaru once more.

“What!?”

Kuzume Daisuke was caught off guard, the kid still had gas in the tank. He reined in his contempt fast. But hearing the katana’s wail settled his nerves a little. These had to be the boy’s last gasps of pride. Fine. He’d grant him a dignified loss.

Cyan Reiatsu blazed around Kuzume Daisuke’s body. Miyamotomaru roared. And Wayne’s katana, under that full-force eruption, sang its final lament.

CLANG!

The blade snapped. The cyan sword beam surged forward, slashing straight at Wayne’s face. A collective gasp rose from the stands, if that blow connected, his skull was coming off.

Wayne twisted his waist and wrenched backward, bending his body ninety degrees. At the same time, his hand shot out. He telekinetically snatched the broken half-blade from the air, wrapped it in Reiatsu, and drove it at close range toward Kuzume Daisuke’s chest.

Kuzume Daisuke saw it coming. He pulled his sword back to block, a wide slash, then a forceful yank into guard. The motion locked him up for an instant. His expression froze.

CLANG!

The blade fragment struck. He blocked it. But a hasty defense leaves openings, and the one now gaping in front of Wayne was massive.

Shluck!

Steel bit flesh. Wayne swept the half-blade upward across Kuzume Daisuke’s torso. Crimson sprayed. But Wayne was still holding back, he’d only sliced skin and muscle, nothing vital. As Kuzume Daisuke staggered, Wayne was already behind him. Two-stage Shunpo. He caught the man and laid the broken blade flat against his carotid.

“You...” Kuzume Daisuke’s face went pale. He had no idea where he’d gone wrong.

“How many sword beams did you throw just now?” Wayne’s voice was flat. “Not tired?”

The words hit like cold water. Kuzume Daisuke’s mind caught up. That relentless volley, it had bled his Reiatsu dry. The moment fatigue set in and he wanted to pull back, Wayne had struck. Perfect timing. And Wayne? After firing off his own beams, he’d dropped to the ground and dodged. Minimal stamina cost. Minimal Reiatsu burn. Kuzume Daisuke had gotten drunk on the thrill of the attack, and Wayne had walked right through the door he left open.

“I... I forfeit.”

The blade at his throat didn’t leave him many choices. Forfeit and get treated, or leave a red line across his neck and go another round. Kuzume Daisuke wasn’t stupid. He surrendered.

“Round of 32 to 16 — Tsukishiro Hinamori wins!”

“Ohhh!”

Momo jumped. Rangiku, up in the stands, was just as thrilled. So was Mizusue, waiting outside the arena to provide medical aid.

“Rangiku-chan, what’s got you so happy?” Isshin Shiba gave his lieutenant a puzzled look. “Don’t tell me you know that kid.”

“Of course not, Captain.” Rangiku pulled her smile back, affecting a teasing air. “A handsome, talented student like that, why wouldn’t I be happy?”

“Is that so?” Isshin scratched his head. “Still, the kid’s got skills. That fight just now, he was hiding his real strength, wasn’t he?”

“Eh? He was?” Rangiku blinked. She’d been too busy praying for Wayne to win to pay any attention to his actual ability.

“No idea why he’d deliberately show weakness, but he definitely didn’t go all out. Well, whatever. Winning proves his capability. Right, Tōsen?” Isshin laughed and turned to Kaname Tōsen beside him.

“Mm.” Tōsen didn’t engage. Being completely blind, he relied on Reiatsu and sound to navigate the world. He’d sensed Wayne’s Reiatsu dip for a stretch, then suddenly erupt. Why, he didn’t understand. With that level of Reiatsu, Wayne could have clashed head-on and seized the advantage quickly. That he won wasn’t particularly surprising.

“That Hinamori seems rather interesting.” Ichimaru stood beside Aizen, eyes narrowed in a smile. “Lord Aizen, what do you think?”

“Mm...” Aizen’s gaze was half-lidded, a smile already spread across his face, the smile of a fox who’d spotted prey. He took in every move Wayne made, missing nothing.

Wayne returned to the rest area. Fourth Division members hurried over to treat his injuries and restore his Reiatsu.

“Not bad, kid.” Kuzume Daisuke was being handled by other squad members. Mizusue had come personally for Wayne. “A little risky, but you won.”

“If I hadn’t been adjusting the odds, I could’ve made it cleaner.” Wayne untied his blindfold to rest his eyes. The fight hadn’t been too taxing, but he was drenched in sweat. It had soaked into the cloth, making his eyes sting.

“Why not just stop wearing it?” Mizusue looked at his lusterless eyes. “Your eyes aren’t damaged. The injury’s to the optic nerve. A blindfold seems unnecessary.”

“Extra protection.” Wayne kept it flat. He couldn’t exactly say it was for Aizen’s Kyōka Suigetsu, so he could shut his eyes the instant Aizen drew his blade without anyone noticing.

“It’s too long, though. Could become a weak point.”

“You mean someone grabbing it in close combat?” Wayne had already considered that. Maybe he should ask Iba to lend him a pair of sunglasses. For reasons Wayne couldn’t fathom, Iba had never once removed his, even in defeat, they stayed glued to his face. If Wayne could get his hands on a pair like that, he might not need the blindfold at all.

“Exactly what you’re thinking.” Mizusue used her Zanpakutō to quickly treat the scrapes he’d picked up. She handed him a vial. “Drink. Reiatsu restoration.”

“Oh?” Wayne raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t this a tournament reward?”

“Heh. Swiped it from the Twelfth Division. Every Ranking Tournament, they brew way more of these than they need. We in the Fourth are the medical corps, we can always pull a few strings and slip some bottles out. Drink up. Your next opponent is Kuraki Kaoru. You need to take this seriously.”

“Fine.” Wayne didn’t hesitate. He tilted his head back and downed it. Almost immediately, he felt his spent Reiatsu begin a steady climb, with signs of overflow. “This stuff’s good.” He looked at the ice-blue residue clinging to the glass.

“Of course.” Mizusue smiled.

“Barring surprises, I should be able to charge straight to second in my bracket.” He was replenishing his Reiatsu as he spoke.

“Not quite.” Mizusue shook her head. “Beat Kuraki Kaoru and make the Top 8, and tomorrow’s matches get re-drawn.”

“Why?”

Mizusue sighed. “To satisfy certain nobles and their unreasonable demands.”

“Oh?”

➤ Next: One More Edge Seized