The Senkaimon opened without a sound above the white sands of Hueco Mundo. Ichigo stepped out of the pillar of light first, Zangetsu already in his hand.

Chad, Ishida, Orihime, Kensei, and Rōjūrō touched down behind him one by one, their boots rasping softly against the sand.

A crescent moon hung overhead. Quartz trunks cast warped shadows in the distance, and the silhouette of Las Noches loomed at the edge of the horizon, half-swallowed by the dark.

"So this is Hueco Mundo. The Reishi concentration here is completely different from Soul Society."

Ishida pushed up his glasses. A Quincy's sensitivity to Reishi had his brow creasing the moment he set foot on the sand.

Chad said nothing. He bumped his bandage-wrapped fists together once, lightly.

Kensei rolled his neck. His joints cracked.

"The advance team's last signal came from the direction of Las Noches."

"Which means we fight our way there."

Rōjūrō drew his baton from his waist, tapping its shaft twice with two slender fingers, his tone as measured as ever, like a conductor confirming the evening's program before the curtain goes up.

Then the ground lurched.

The white sand heaved violently beneath their feet. Grains pulled inward from every direction as if a massive invisible hand had made a fist, stacking layer on layer, piling upward.

A stone giant rose from the desert floor, dozens of meters tall, dark red light burning in the hollows of its eyes, a colossal arm sweeping toward them.

Runuganga. The white sand guardian of Las Noches.

Kensei moved first. Tachikaze tore a massive gash across the giant's torso, and within a few breaths, the grains along the wound's edges drew back together and sealed as if nothing had happened.

"What the hell is this thing?"

Kensei landed and shook the sand off his blade, annoyed.

Chad's iron fist, Ishida's Reishi arrows, Ichigo's Getsuga Tenshō, they hit in rotation, each strike gouging visible damage out of Runuganga's frame, and every single time the sand flowed back in and healed.

"Useless, useless, useless!"

The low, muffled laughter came from somewhere deep inside that body of sand and stone.

Rōjūrō kept watching.

He had noticed something. With every regeneration, the speed at which the grains re-bonded was slightly slower than the last.

Sand didn't stick to sand on its own. There was no water binding it, only Reishi forcing the grains together.

If a current of water could break those Reishi bonds apart,

"Everyone, step back."

He raised his baton to his chest and closed his eyes.

Reiatsu unspooled from within him, not like Kensei's explosive burst, nothing like a storm. It spread gently, rhythmically, outward. Like the moment a conductor's baton taps the music stand and the hall goes quiet.

He swept the baton in a single elegant arc.

"Bankai — Kinshara Butōdan."

Golden light bloomed around him. Dozens of golden dancers emerged from the radiance, their forms light as feathers, their garments catching the moonlight of Hueco Mundo in a faint, warm glow.

Rōjūrō stood at their center. His long blonde hair stirred under the Reiatsu as he turned the baton lightly between his fingers.

"Movement One — Sea Drift."

The dancers circled Runuganga. Their steps quickened. The hems of their dresses spun faster and faster, and the water they trailed through the air wove itself into an enormous vortex, coiling inward from all sides.

The current was ferocious and relentless. It closed around the sand giant from every direction.

Runuganga swung its arms in fury, trying to smash through the wall of water, but each time an arm made contact, the grains on its surface shed their cohesion and fell away in cascades.

The Reishi composing his form was stripped from him, dispersed, swept outward. The massive body started collapsing from the edges in.

"Go."

Rōjūrō's baton held steady in midair, keeping the rhythm of the current. "Head to Las Noches. I'll follow shortly."

Ichigo looked at him.

Rōjūrō didn't turn around. He was entirely absorbed in guiding the dancers through each precise movement, his long blonde hair swaying in the mist the vortex had kicked up.

They turned and ran.

Behind them, the roar of rushing water and Runuganga's bellowing twisted together and faded.

The Exequias had already deployed along the outer perimeter of Las Noches, spread across the dunes in a fan-shaped formation. Rudbornn Chelute stood at the front, his mask fragments glinting coldly in the moonlight.

Ichigo moved to accelerate.

Chad and Ishida stopped at the same time.

"Leave this to us."

Chad unwound the bandages from his arm, loop by loop, until the rough, hardened skin underneath was bare.

Ishida adjusted his glasses and condensed a Reishi arrow onto Ginrei Kojaku. "A Quincy's ranged fire is exactly what you need against a formation this dense."

"Hey, both of you—"

"Stop wasting breath. Go."

Ishida's arrow had already left the string. It drove cleanly into the head of the front-row soldier, mask fragments scattering. "You're here to rescue Seijūrō-sensei, aren't you? We have this. Chad, left flank."

Chad was already in motion, iron fist caving in the skull mask of the first soldier on the left, shards spraying outward.

Ichigo gritted his teeth and pushed forward.

A blue figure dropped from the air onto the sand in front of Las Noches' main gate.

Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. He landed with easy confidence, messy light-blue hair catching the moonlight with a cold sheen. He tilted his head, ran those azure eyes over Ichigo once, and let his mouth pull into a sharp, hungry grin.

"Finally showed up, Kurosaki. Last time that bastard Tōsen dragged me away before we could finish things. Nobody's going to interrupt us now. That masked form of yours, show it to me again."

Ichigo's grip tightened on Zangetsu.

He didn't want to lose time here. But Grimmjow clearly had no intention of moving.

The dome of Las Noches was right there behind him, close enough that Ichigo could feel it. That faint Reiatsu. Seijūrō's Reiatsu, pressed down and suppressed, thin as a thread, but still there.

Right inside. He couldn't stop here.

He dropped his center of gravity and cut left, trying to slip past Grimmjow's side.

A Sonído afterimage burst in his face. Grimmjow was already in front of him, azure eyes fixed on him from above, that same sharp grin in place.

"You're not getting through, Kurosaki!"

Ichigo pivoted and drove for the other side.

Another Sonído. Grimmjow blocked him again.

Third attempt. Fourth. It didn't matter which direction Ichigo moved, Grimmjow was already there when he arrived.

His Sonído wasn't the fastest among the Espada. But tracking one locked target? More than enough.

"Ichigo." Kensei's voice came from behind. He was turning the dagger over in his hand, gaze moving between Ichigo and Grimmjow. Then he snorted. "He's fixated on you. You're his chosen fight. He won't let you through no matter what."

"Kensei-san—"

"Leave it to me." He flipped the dagger between his fingers. "I'll get Seijūrō out. Clean and done. Doesn't matter how many guards are inside, even if it's Aizen himself, I can handle it."

He pointed the blade toward Orihime. "Hey, Orihime. Stay out here with Ichigo. Nobody knows what's waiting inside Las Noches, and there might be an ambush. Your shield helps Ichigo, following me would just put you at risk. This kid looks tough, but once he gets worked up he stops thinking. Keep an eye on him."

Orihime glanced at Kensei, then at Ichigo. She nodded and stepped to Ichigo's side, the soft glow of her hairpins stirring to life.

"Please, Kensei-san."

Kensei was already walking toward the main gate. He didn't look back.

Ichigo watched his silhouette disappear into the dark beyond the entrance. Then he turned to face Grimmjow.

"Sorry to keep you waiting."

---

The white sands of Hueco Mundo.

Rōjūrō Ōtoribashi lowered his baton. The dancers dissolved into golden motes and scattered on the air.

Runuganga's colossal frame had completely fallen apart, nothing left now but loose sand that would never coalesce again.

He turned toward Las Noches and started walking, his long blonde hair drifting in the last remnants of mist that the deluge had left behind.

A figure stepped out of the shadow of a quartz trunk.

Pale skin, almost translucent in the moonlight. Green eyes as deep and hollow as empty space. The dark tear-streak markings running from the corners of his eyes to his jaw stood out sharply in the cold quartz light.

Ulquiorra Cifer stopped in front of Rōjūrō, both hands in his pockets, his stance without a single gap.

"I am the guardian of Las Noches, appointed personally by Lord Aizen. My orders are to apprehend intruders." His voice was flat, the tone of someone stating something that simply is.

Rōjūrō stopped. He held his baton horizontally before his chest.

"Guardian of Las Noches? That is strange." His tone stayed easy, but his eyes sharpened. "If you're the guardian, why are you out here on the perimeter instead of inside guarding Las Noches? That sounds like a serious dereliction of duty."

"Indeed."

Ulquiorra's voice didn't shift in the slightest, as if he were confirming something trivial. "I should be in the main hall watching the sealed Shinigami. However, another guard is currently handling the intruders there. And I have little interest in involving myself in that particular fight."

Rōjūrō tapped two fingers against the shaft of his baton. His long blonde hair swayed softly in the moonlight.

His tone remained composed. But something moved behind his eyes.

"What does that mean, exactly?"

Ulquiorra didn't answer.

---

Kensei Muguruma was the first one through.

He didn't bother with the door. He punched straight through the outer wall on the flank, his Hollowfied Tachikaze blasting a ragged breach through the white masonry.

Debris scattered. He touched down on the other side, combat boots leaving two long scorch marks across the smooth stone floor. He didn't slow down.

Corridor after corridor. One heavy stone door after another shoved out of his way.

The echoes beneath his boots grew hollower. The walls on either side grew smoother.

Not a single guard inside Las Noches.

Every soldier Aizen had left behind was stationed along the outer perimeter. Aizen had clearly decided that holding the entrances was enough, that no one could punch through to the main hall.

Then Kensei shoved open the last door.

The main hall ceiling vaulted high above him, and pale crescent moonlight spilled down through the fissures, pooling across the floor in cold white patches.

At the center of the hall, a Caja Negación hovered in midair, pulsing, slow and rhythmic, like a heartbeat.

The surface of the black cube pulsed with faint blue Hōgyoku patterns. Each slow contraction and expansion made the air around it hum at a pitch just below hearing.

He could feel it. A Reiatsu seeping out from inside, faint but unmistakable.

Then something at the edge of his vision made him stop.

A little girl, an Arrancar, was sitting on the stone steps at the side of the hall, swinging her legs with absolutely nothing to do.

The left half of her head and face was covered by a mask fragment. Short pale green hair. A purple flame marking beside her left eye. Open-chested vest, shorts, thin arms resting across her knees.

She looked up and saw him. Amber eyes blinked once. No fear. Just curiosity.

Kensei stared at her for a moment.

Her Reiatsu was a step above the cannon fodder outside, she had real ability. But compared to the one holding Ichigo at the front gate, she was nowhere close.

He had come in expecting something nasty. An Espada-class guardian. A trap. Maybe a last-resort detonation device.

He had not expected a kid.

"Hey, who are you? How'd you get in here? Wasn't Ulquiorra supposed to be guarding outside? Did you beat him? You're a Shinigami, right? Is that black pajama thing a Shihakushō? Old man, is your white hair dyed?"

He found himself thinking of Mashiro Kuna.

Same volume. Same complete lack of boundaries with strangers. Even the hair color was similar.

He had no idea what to do with her.

He had run through every scenario before walking in, Espada-level opposition, Aizen's traps, a self-destruct mechanism designed to take them both down. A brat who might barely qualify for lieutenant-level strength had not made the list.

He let a breath out, spun his dagger once, and slipped it back into its sheath. The battle-tension in his shoulders dropped.

"Hey, kid. Are you the one guarding this place?"

"That's right, it's me!" Lilynette Gingerbuck jumped off the steps. Hands on her hips, chin tilted up, voice full of it. "I am!"

"Step aside. I won't hurt you."

"No way!"

"You little—" Kensei pulled in a long breath.

He didn't want to put hands on a child. But he couldn't stand here all day either.

Ichigo was outside tying up Grimmjow. Rōjūrō's fight might or might not be finished. And Seijūrō was right there, inside that pulsing black cube, his Reiatsu thin and muffled, but calling.

Kensei raised both fists before his chest and clenched them. His Reiatsu surged inward, denser than it had ever been.

"Bankai — Tekken Tachikaze."

When the light faded, he had a toothed combat blade in each hand. Tread-like armor wrapped around both arms, the two tracks connecting across his back, plating covering his spine.

The wind that spiked off his rising Reiatsu hit Lilynette like a wall. Her short green hair whipped straight back. She flung an arm up to shield her eyes.

He had hoped the sheer force of it would back her off.

It did shake her. She stepped back one pace, both hands coming up instinctively, and the back of her calf caught the edge of the stone step behind her.

"Lilynette. Stand down. I'll handle this."

The voice came from the shadows of the main hall. Lazy. A little rough around the edges.

Coyote Starrk walked out of the dark. Messy dark brown curls heaped on top of his head. Jaw unshaved, buried in the collar of his Arrancar uniform. Hands tucked into his sleeves, posture somewhere between relaxed and completely indifferent. He looked at Kensei through the fringe of hair hanging over his face.

"What is going on. First a brat, now a washed-out bum with no Reiatsu to speak of."

Kensei looked at the two of them.

"Sorry about this, I really didn't want to get mixed up in any of it. Lord Aizen said something on his way out about needing someone who could hold down the main hall. Ulquiorra was supposed to be stationed here, but he wandered off to the perimeter for some reason. So I'm filling in."

Starrk scratched the back of his head. His tone had the flat exasperation of a man who has been handed an annoying errand he can't get out of.

Kensei looked at him for a moment.

Then he smiled.

He brought his fists together lightly in front of his chest. The toothed blades knocked against each other and struck a small burst of sparks. The tracks of Tekken Tachikaze drew taut across his back with a low, continuous metallic rasp.

"Fine by me if you're not moving. Either way, " His eyes stayed level on Starrk. ", this won't take much of your time."

➤ Next: Sorry, I Couldn't Hold Back My Strength

Chapter 85 - Sorry, I Couldn't Hold Back My Strength

Sajin Komamura landed steadily on the sand, his heavy combat boots pressing deep prints into the white surface.

Thanks to Mayuri Kurotsuchi's work, their crossing of the Dangai had been nearly twice as fast as usual. The Reishi track inside the passage was smooth as a freshly polished mirror.

"This Reiatsu—"

Komamura looked up. His burly, wolf-headed frame cast a wide shadow under the moonlight.

His ears flicked constantly, catching every trace of Reishi fluctuation in the air. "Battles are happening in multiple locations. To the west, two Captain-level Reiatsus are clashing hard, one of them, without a doubt, is Rōjūrō Ōtoribashi. To the northeast are the Ryoka; the Quincy and the human boy both read clearly. And over by the main gate of Las Noches, Ichigo Kurosaki is engaged with someone."

"Rōjūrō Ōtoribashi?" Soi Fon asked, incredulous. "Didn't he die decades ago? As a victim of the Hollowfication experiments?"

"It seems Kisuke Urahara and the others must have gotten them out."

Byakuya's gaze swept the flares of Reiatsu rising and falling in the distance.

Komamura kept reading the distribution across the area, then suddenly whipped his head around, ears snapping.

"What else?" Soi Fon asked.

"Where is Captain Zaraki? He was at the back of the formation just a moment ago."

"...Indeed."

Soi Fon closed her eyes, sensed briefly, then opened them. Expressionless.

Yachiru was gone too, probably followed Kenpachi when he disappeared. That man had almost certainly gotten lost again.

"Leave him. Komamura, which direction is Seijūrō in?" Soi Fon brought things back on track.

"I can't sense him."

Komamura's voice went low, his ears drooping slightly. "I suggest we split up and support each front while gathering intelligence in our respective directions."

"Agreed."

Soi Fon said nothing more. Her figure flashed and she was gone, streaking toward Rōjūrō Ōtoribashi's Reiatsu in the west.

Her Shunpo left only the faintest marks on the sand.

Byakuya moved northeast, toward the Quincy and the human boy.

Komamura headed for Ichigo Kurosaki.

Only a few rapidly fading footprints remained on the white sand.

Mid-sprint, Komamura's expression froze. His steps slowed half a beat without him meaning to.

"That Reiatsu, it's Kensei. He went Bankai. Is he in a fight? His Reiatsu density is surging fast, wait. It's gone. His Reiatsu just vanished. What happened?"

His ears stopped flicking. They stood straight, all pointing the same direction.

"Suppressed to near zero in a single instant. What happened?"

---

Before Las Noches.

Ichigo gripped Tensa Zangetsu, the black blade catching the moonlight in dark, muted gleams.

His chest heaved. Breathing ragged, heavy. Orange hair plastered to his temples with sweat.

Fragments of his Hollow mask still clung to his cheek, flaking off piece by piece.

Grimmjow knelt on one knee in the sand. The Resurrección form of Pantera was receding, blue Reiatsu peeling away from his limbs and dissolving into nothing. The wound on his right shoulder, the one Getsuga Tenshō had split open, was deep enough to show bone.

"Kurosaki... kill me!"

Grimmjow bit down on the words. Every one of them forced up from somewhere deep in his throat.

"Stop yelling. Lie down a little longer."

Ichigo drove Tensa Zangetsu into the sand and leaned on the hilt, catching his breath.

His arms were still trembling. His Reiatsu was scraped down to the limit.

Grimmjow tried to get up. His right arm pushed half his body off the ground, then a triangular golden light pressed him back down.

The weight of the Santen Kesshun settled squarely onto his chest.

"Mr. Big Blue Cat, the fight is over. Please don't keep going."

Orihime Inoue stood at Ichigo's side, hands clasped in front of her chest, the light on her hairpins bright and steady. Her tone left no room for argument.

"...Damn it. I don't even have the strength to tear through a barrier put up by this woman."

Grimmjow dropped onto his back in the sand. His voice came out hoarse and spent.

Orihime crouched down. The golden light of the Sōten Kisshun spread from her palms and wrapped around Ichigo. The wound on his shoulder, torn open by Pantera's claws, began closing, slowly and steadily. His Reiatsu climbed back up at a visible rate.

Ichigo looked down at his hands. He felt that warm, healing energy sinking into every inch of skin. Then he looked up at Orihime.

"Inoue. Thank you."

Orihime met his eyes. Her dark gray irises were unusually clear against the golden light.

She smiled.

"Yeah."

Ichigo started to say something, and then snapped his head toward the central palace of Las Noches.

An enormous Reiatsu surged up from deep within the main hall. Its density was so high the surrounding air trembled.

Mr. Kensei's Reiatsu. He went Bankai.

Ichigo felt it climbing at a speed he had never sensed before. Then, at the exact moment it peaked, it disappeared.

Like someone pinching out a candle.

"A Reiatsu that massive, just... gone?" Orihime's voice trembled slightly.

"Is Mr. Kensei's Bankai some kind of Space Transfer ability? No — wait — there's still a faint trace left, it hasn't vanished completely. Does that mean, " Ichigo's grip on Tensa Zangetsu tightened. His fingers went white against the hilt.

TAP. TAP. TAP.

Footsteps from inside the main gate.

Coyote Starrk walked out, dark brown curls piled messily on top of his head, stubbled jaw half-buried in the collar of his Arrancar uniform.

Almost nothing about him read as Hollow. No mask fragments on his face. No visible Hollow hole. No twisted limbs. Only the row of bone-like guards hanging at his neck gave him away as an Arrancar at all.

Ichigo brought Tensa Zangetsu up across his body, putting himself between Starrk and Orihime. His left hand rose toward his face, ready to Hollowfy.

"Who are you? Where is Mr. Kensei!"

"Hey, Starrk! Slow down!"

A bright voice rang out from behind him.

Lilynette Gingerbuck came stumbling after, out of breath, and dragging something. Someone.

Kensei Muguruma, unconscious, being hauled across the ground by the back collar of his Shihakushō. His white hair scraped a long furrow through the sand. Eyes rolled back. Low, wordless groans coming out of his mouth.

His legs traced crooked lines across the ground behind him.

Ichigo tightened his grip on Tensa Zangetsu and prepared for the worst.

He stared at Kensei's rolled-back eyes. Then looked at the worn-down man standing beside Lilynette.

Starrk glanced down at Grimmjow flat on the sand. A faint flicker of surprise passed through his half-lidded eyes.

"Looks like I worried for nothing. I thought I was going to lose another companion." He looked at Ichigo. "Holding back in a situation like that, you're gentler than you look, orange hair."

"...Huh?"

"This Shinigami."

Starrk took Kensei from Lilynette, grabbed him by the collar, and held him up for Ichigo to see.

Kensei's head lolled against his chest. A thin trail of drool still hung from the corner of his mouth, the kind that hadn't been wiped away before he went under.

"How about I trade this Shinigami for that Arrancar?"

Grimmjow strained to lift his head. "The hell? Who do you think you're looking down on!"

Starrk shook Kensei by the collar a couple of times.

Kensei's body swung in the air like a puppet with cut strings, a low, incoherent moan working out of his throat.

"Sorry about that. I couldn't quite hold back my strength. Mainly because this guy came in with so much momentum — straight to Bankai, right out of the gate — I thought I was up against something serious." He scratched his head. His tone carried a touch of genuine apology, the kind you'd use for accidentally knocking over a neighbor's flowerpot. "Though the young lady over there has healing abilities, right?"

Ichigo stared at this man.

He'd met a lot of Arrancars. Arrogant ones like Yammy Llargo. Cold ones like Ulquiorra Cifer. Bloodthirsty ones like Grimmjow.

He had never met one this easy to talk to.

Before he could figure out what to say, Orihime called out from behind him: "Deal! Give him back and we'll trade!"

Starrk scratched his head. His half-lidded eyes drifted toward Orihime.

"Much appreciated, young lady."

He tossed Kensei gently toward Ichigo.

Orihime's Santen Kesshun caught him cleanly. Kensei's body bounced once against the golden shield, then was lowered slowly to her side.

She expanded the Sōten Kisshun immediately. The golden healing light spread to cover both Ichigo and Kensei at once.

Kensei's Reiatsu began its slow climb back up. The groaning in his throat settled into quieter, steadier breaths.

Starrk disappeared from where he stood and reappeared beside Grimmjow.

He grabbed Grimmjow by the collar with one hand and started dragging him toward Las Noches.

Grimmjow tried to fight it. He didn't have the strength to lift an arm. All he could do was get hauled along like a stray cat that wouldn't behave.

"Do you, know Mr. Seijūrō?" Ichigo said suddenly.

"Seijūrō." Starrk stopped. He turned his head sideways. "Ah. The sealed Shinigami?"

"Sealed, so it's real. Where is he?"

Starrk gestured toward Las Noches with his chin.

"The center of the hall at the very deepest point. There's something in there that beats like a heart. That's where he is." He paused. "You can go look if you want. I don't particularly mind."

His tone was still that same lazy drawl.

"But you can't open it."

"Why not? Will it explode? Will it kill him?"

"Because I'm the one guarding it."

Starrk said it like he was explaining something obvious. "You can look from a distance. Take a picture if you want. But no touching."

"Huh?"

Ichigo leveled Tensa Zangetsu at him. The black blade caught the moonlight in a cold, dark gleam. "So if I defeat you, I can rescue Mr. Seijūrō. Right?"

Starrk looked at him.

"That's right. But we can't fight right now."

"What is this guy even saying? We're enemies, aren't we?" Ichigo's grip tightened.

Starrk looked up at the sky.

The crescent moon still hung in place. Moonlight spilled over his messy curls and traced a faint silver edge along his silhouette.

"It shouldn't be that serious. People from different sides bumping into each other, that's all." He glanced down at Grimmjow still trying to squirm in his grip. Then at Kensei, wrapped in Orihime's light. "If you want to fight, how about after we've both sorted out our people first?"

"Who the hell are your people!" Grimmjow snarled, pouring the last of his strength into the words.

"Hueco Mundo actually has someone like this." Ichigo looked at those lazy eyes and slowly lowered Tensa Zangetsu.

His voice was quiet. Every word landed clean and firm.

"I will rescue Mr. Seijūrō."

"Sure. I'll be waiting."

Starrk called for Lilynette and headed back into Las Noches.

JINGLE. JINGLE. JINGLE.

The bells first.

Then the sound above them, not Sonído, not Shunpo. Something rawer than either. Pure weight tearing through the air with no technique behind it, just brute force splitting the sky open.

A notch-riddled Zanpakutō came down from above, the blade carrying enough force to flatten a sand dune.

Starrk dropped Grimmjow into Lilynette's arms, raised one hand, and caught the strike single-handed.

The screech of clashing metal exploded across the white desert.

The sand beneath Starrk's feet blasted outward in every direction with him at the center, a column of dust erupting into the sky.

"What do we have here, I thought I'd taken a wrong turn, but turns out it's actually a decent find!"

The dust cleared.

Ichigo got a look at the newcomer.

A savage face. A scar cutting across the left side of it. The hem of his captain's haori jagged at the edges like it'd been chewed. Long hair gathered into small spikes, a tiny bell tied at the end of each one, all of them chiming in the moonlight.

Yachiru Kusajishi was perched on his shoulder, little legs swinging, and she locked eyes with Ichigo.

"Ken-chan! I found Ichi!"

Kenpachi Zaraki grinned. The teeth weren't exactly even.

"Ichigo! What are you doing here? Whatever, doesn't matter, you're here, which means there's a fight to be had!"

He could feel it. This utterly rumpled, dead-tired-looking Arrancar was sitting on something terrifying.

Reiatsu held down so tight it barely registered, enough to crush a Captain, compressed into a body that looked like it hadn't slept in a week and couldn't care less about any of this.

Kenpachi's grin stretched wider.

Yachiru Kusajishi hopped off his shoulder and landed beside Ichigo. She crouched down and poked Kensei in the face with her hilt.

"I'm the Captain of Squad 11."

Kenpachi Zaraki looked at Starrk.

"What's your name?"

➤ Next: Respective Opponents — Clash