The Kenpachi Games
For the first time since perhaps the severance of the soul king, the entirety of the Soul Society shares in one singular experience. Every soul from the poorest Rukongai denizen to the richest noble family stays transfixed on their television screens. Even the festivities surrounding the initial arena, the fairgrounds, rides, vendors, and laughing children, have all come to a halt. Instead, the World of the Dead watches on as they witness a display of power they never thought possible. What joy and fun once permeated the air is replaced now with concern and astonishment for the monsters they see on their screen.
In an inhabited swamp, far beyond the reach of the Seventh Division patrol, one captain dons an ivory mask of bone, the other an ebony suit of armor. An explosive Shinigami releases the most powerful blast he has ever attempted to make, incinerating his flesh and clothes in order to even scratch at his captain. The pink-haired vizard slithers through the Bankai of her swamp, releasing a flaming cero of seemingly superior proportion, after the loss of her arms. In turn, Captain Hageshi remains unscathed, consuming both blasts for her own burst of explosive power, at the cost of her bankai shattering. To those watching, the screen displaying this fight becomes completely obscured in blue light, causing many to squint or turn away.
In the desolate Valley of Screams, the beloved Honoka Oki seemingly attempts to take her own life, refusing to resist a Captain’s deadly kido. In turn, this Captain, Yu Nakamoto, finds his medical expertise put to the test. Sliced to pieces by the white-haired shinigami. Now, both find themselves in their released Bankai, staring down the unknown factors of each other’s greatest ability while the world watches on.
As captivating as the two other fights are, there was one that clearly stood out above the rest. For whatever monster the Ninth Captain Yasu Yugure currently found herself to be, it would pale in comparison to the Vasto Lorde that has consumed Captain Tenzen Oda. For whatever damage the white-haired shinigami Nibui Ueki inflicted upon a Captain, it too would pale in comparison to the evisceration caused by the white-haired swordsman Suiyo Kusotare. Indeed, this fight had contained within it its very own unparalleled explosive blast, as well as an even more formidably formed Cero. To the simple minded, who find entertainment in the flashy and dramatic, this fight had everything. However, to the more wizened, the more experienced, and skilled, this fight was nothing short of terrifying.
Three master’s of their crafts, unparalleled in their individual disciplines, pit their experience and skill against each other. This causes even the most hardened swordsmen, talented sorcerers, and competitive speedsters, to strain their eyes and minds just to follow along. It is clear that of all the first round battles, this one would be the most remembered, the most talked about in hushed whispers. The exchange between the two captains and the drunken swordsman would from here on out be known as the
Battle of the Best.
“Who is this guy?”
Suiyo’s opponent’s were not the only ones questioning the identity of the old drunk. Within a lavish palace in
District 1,
Junrinan (潤林安,
Lush Forest Peace), a wealthy noble inquires of his chief advisor. It would seem that ever since his inebriated arrival into the public eye, the stranger with the black sword has been the center of attention. Many had bet against the man, looking forward to seeing an old bum get absolutely destroyed by the Sereitei’s best. It was a safe bet. After all, of the five non-captain participants to enter, two have been eliminated, and one finds himself at the mercy of his own direct superior. It is only the white-haired duo, who strike an eerie resemblance to one another, that remain to face the Captains of the Gotei Thirteen. Yet while Nibui puts forth his best effort in an epic struggle to subdue his only remaining opponent, Suiyo still seems unbothered by it all.
So far Suiyo had incapacitated one captain with a single move, pushing him so close to death’s door that he was forced to release the pinnacle state of his most powerful form. Now, he tells another Captain to leave, dismissing the world’s greatest assassin as a threat altogether. It is a widely held belief to the spectators of the games that had Captain Mukuro or Captain Oda been in either other bracket, they would currently be dominating. Yet here some old man who can barely stop slurring his words is seeming to single handedly keep them at bay.
”I do not know sir, but that thing he is facing is an abomination.”
“That last attack had no killing intent behind it, and I haven’t seen you cop a single gem. You're not here to kill, and it ain’t profit. You supposed to fight? I attacked, you counter attacked, that’s a fight, right?”
“I heard Lady Oki hired him to take out the Clan Killer.”
In
District 64,
Sabitsura (錆面,
Rusted Face) a dilapidated old wooden dumpling-shop is hosting more patrons than it has ever seen at a single time. Full to the brink, everyone from the surrounding area has come to observe the games.
“We’ll he’s doing a bad job, he’s just talking to him!" "Look, Mukuro’s not even touched!”
Suiyo was not just the only non-captain, but the only-non Shinigami participating. This of course captivates those who inhabit the outer districts. There is not one amongst these souls that has not suffered some abuse at the hands of a Shinigami. To them, the old bastard represents the people’s struggle against the Seireitei’s oppressive establishment.
“A Mukuro killed my uncle…” “I thought he was fighting a monster, when did that other guy show up?”
Full of sake, farmers and bandits alike shout over one another, sloshing their drinks about, rice stuck to their beards. They struggle to comprehend what they’re watching, but they can at least put names to faces, the Oda and the Mukuro Clans reputation travels further outside the walls of the Gotei thirteen than it does within.
“So that’s the Mukuro Captain that slaughtered the Oki?”
A young man asks, sipping his tea, too youthful to enjoy the bitterness of rice wine. Yet even he, even here, has heard of the tragedy that befell the Oki Clan.
“I loved the Oki.”
“Yeah me too…”
“They healed my mom when she was sick…”
Despite the disparagement told of nobles, the Oki had always been kind to those with less. They were known to build shelters for the poor, to remedy the sick, and grow crops for the starving. Even the cruelest bandit was more likely to ask for an Oki’s aid than for their money. For hundreds of years now the Seventh division has run through these upper districts like wild dogs, refusing the aid that the Seireitei was supposed to provide. The Oki clan had been a small relief to this much larger ailment.
“Fuck the Mukuro!”
One drunken bandit cannot help but shout as he rises to his feet. Yet this outburst gains traction with those in his company, and before long the entire tavern chants along in unison.
“Listen man, in my experience. Whatever you’re thinking about-”
“He’s sort of dreamy don’t you think?” “Gross, he’s a total bum!"
In
District 3, Hokutan (北端,
North End), the oiran of a high-end okiya gather in the main lobby. Geisha of an inner district, their fame and prestige allows them to run their own business, forming an entertainment district relatively close to the games themselves. Protected by the consistent patrols of the Seventh Division, the women of this establishment have been able to seize for themselves independent wealth. Now, the Oiran and their all female staff watch with sparkling eyes glued to the screen, as the swordsman, in this moment of lethal violence, stops to appeal to his opponent’s heart.
“He’s kind of romantic…”
They giggle and tease, clad in expensive fabrics and exotic makeups. Today it would appear that their roles were reversed. Instead of fulfilling the fantasies of their clients, it was their turn to fantasize for themselves. Suiyo's impoverished and unkempt appearance, scarred body and wizened face, the blunt manner of his speech, and the craziness of his actions, while off putting to most, undoubtedly hold a certain appeal to some. That is to say nothing of his skill or current position, as put plainly, everyone likes an underdog.
“Obviously he's drunk and crude.” “Yeah but he pulls off that rugged look…”
Enticed, the Geisha escorts and their entourage of servants linger on his every word, straining to hear the broadcast. They wait with baited breath, as if it is to them directly, and not to the Mukuro, that Sir Kusotare speaks.
Sighs escaped bitten lips, as the ladies of this district interpret Suiyo’s words to be of some secret lover. Soon, they become lost in visions of the heartless Kyomu, his edgy exterior softened by the tenderness of a forbidden love. Perhaps there is someone out there watching the Captain with concern, one who loves him, despite it all. Just as the Geisha now, in this moment, find themselves falling for such a rough-looking man.
The violence, the horrific monster, all becomes lost in this moment of intimacy, as the women anticipate exactly what he is about to say next. They watch, their hearts aflutter with longing, as his form begins to fade away from their vision.
That is…until the reverberating
clack of a wooden gourd is heard, rolling across the ground.
“That’s where you shoHEY WHAT THE HELL MAN!?”
For the first time since anyone has laid eyes on him, the nonchalant drunkard has expressed an outburst of shock and concern. The festivities, the Captain Commander, Kido, Assassin, and Vasto Lorde, had all failed to produce anything but fascination and humor from the stranger, yet now it is his gourd crashing against the ground that truly surprises him.
Utterly shocked, his joint drops from his mouth, as he watches his favorite and only drinking gourd roll across the cold hard ground.
The orange flickers of light emitted from the Kyomu clone would fire harmlessly through Suiyo’s own form, as his body continues its visual dematerialization, albeit with his now shocked expression.
Yet, the lit joint does not meet the same fate as the gourd, but instead seems to equally flicker and disappear before it can collide with the ground. Unlike the careless assassin, the drunk would not let such a precious luxury go to waste.
So, it’s the dick move then. At least it was caught on tape.
Unfortunately, it still remained a win-win situation. It would seem rather than open himself up to emotional vulnerability, the Mukuro Captain would instead choose to defend his pride. Kyomu now decided to take responsibility for the Vasto Lorde that rampaged about, rather than allow a Rukongai Bum to clench victory and embarrass the Seireitei on live television. For the Rukongai Bum however, this was excellent, as it meant much less work for him.
Rematerializing on the Kyomu projection’s other-side, deprived of his joint, Suiyo smiles now, over the initial shock, he has once again regained his cool. Side by side, the drunk’s eyes too follow the same subject as the assassin’s. The two of them stand as observers to themselves, on the sidelines of their own battle, watching as the outcomes of actions they have already set into motion come to fruition.
“So, you’re finally getting serious.”
Back at the
main event, the Vasto Lorde Oda falls subject to the plethora of sword strikes that course through his body. Or rather, that is how it is perceived to occur. Perception is indeed a funny thing. Rather than damage the Hollow itself, the slices instead dice up a discarded arm left behind by the creature.
“He’s fast.”
The arm of course explodes into a bloody-mist, while the Vasto Lorde appears to materialize next to Suiyo. Indeed perception is a funny thing. The Vasto had perceived a series of singular sword strikes heading away from him in multiple directions. It makes sense then that a simple substitution would suffice, allowing him to reappear elsewhere once the strikes had finished. However, the mistake here is that they were not at all singular sword strikes.
The arcs of light heading away from the vasto’s body were not the result of Suiyo’s sword swinging downward, but rather his sword retracting for a secondary swing. Much like the Assassin’s shunpo, the Sword Saint’s Zanjutsu is capable of moving faster than light. That is to say, faster than it can be visibly perceived. Thus, what the Vasto had perceived was not the arc produced by a swing of a sword, but instead the sword itself retracting and swinging again. The downward sword movement of the strike and the upward movement of the blade’s retraction, then the repetition of this process, formed enough of an overlap to reflect light, creating the arcs that the Vasto saw.
The Vasto had allowed the first strikes to pass through his severed arm, and then had reappeared next to the image of the talking Suiyo. However, this apparition of Suiyo was still in the center of all of these strikes, just barely behind the Vasto himself, enough to whisper in his ear. As the Vasto rematerializes to Suiyo’s left, he keeps himself exactly where Suiyo wanted him.
Vanity and confidence would meet this creature’s end, as the second wave of strikes, which had already been launched, now collide against the vasto in his new position. His intense speed had worked against him in this case, as, should he have slowed down, Utsusemi might have avoided both strikes. Instead, he immediately reappeared, removing any reaction time he might have had. Further, the vasto, which is unconcerned about Suiyo, admires itself in its own blade’s reflection, confident that its shunpo and shikai had done and will continue to do their jobs. Therefore, the Vasto Lorde remains unsuspecting of a secondary strike, distracted by itself, devoid of reaction time, and still centrally located within the grid of cuts.
What’s more, the Golden Mist that enshrouds him would fail to act as a shield, or rather, an eraser. The reason behind this remains a mystery to all those present, Suiyo included, especially given the secret nature of this Shikai’s ability. The nature of these cuts however was different than the ones from before, as they were not composed of Reiryoku and Air, which could be easily negated and erased by the golden mist. Yet still, it wouldn’t make sense, even should the parasitic Vasto have the intelligence and comprehension of its host body, considering that the only things he cannot erase in shikai are sentient beings.
All of this would have to be considered before anything could occur, removing any chance of preventing the second wave of slices, which had already been brought into motion before the Vasto had even fully reacted to the first wave. As such, the Vasto Lorde would be struck five simultaneous times, serving to cut through the creature in three distinct ways. The first would be caused by the cuts to the front and the back, which would serve to bisect the Vasto vertically. The second, would be the cuts from the left and right, which are not directed at the creature’s arms, but rather at his head, specifically, his face. These cuts would cut through the left and right sides of his skull, serving to slice the Hollow Mask directly off of the Captain’s face. The final cut would be that which came from above, whose first wave had sliced through Suiyo’s discarded joint. Now with the Vasto’s new position, it would continue to slice downwards through his head and body at a diagonal angle, severing his heart and brain, as well as what remains of the bisected mask.
Forming a three-point downwards star, it is as though the Vasto had been cored like an apple. The five cuts serving to sever the Vasto Lorde in three separate ways, and thus into six separate pieces, all centered around that mask he wore. Suiyo, ignorant of the Captain's shikai abilities, is more so intrigued by the unification of Hollow and Shinigami spiritual energies. Even in his drunken state, even from a distance, even in his high speed movement, his multiple locations, and partially in his sleep, he was able to perceive the flow of energy that composed the creature formerly known as Tenzen Oda. With this, he knew that the source of power, the connection to that Hollowifed energy, lay in the mask he wore across his face.
Granted, getting sliced into six pieces would be lethal to most, however, Suiyo had elected not to kill the Captain when he had the chance. Could it be that he regretted this, as now he was responsible for the release of this monster? Or could it be that even now he had no intention of taking Oda's life? Indeed, the Vasto had already displayed an excellent healing factor, and so it could be that Suiyo’s cuts were delivered with the intention of shattering the mask while the Vasto’s flesh focused on repairing itself. What’s more, the massive influx of energy that no doubt emitted from the Vasto, though he conceals its presence within his shikai, would serve to perpetually keep the Captain alive even through lethal wounds. At least, hopefully, long enough for him to be taken away from this place.
Truthfully, this was plan B. Suiyo had hoped that by convincing the Mukuro Captain to leave on his own, he could watch exactly how one was supposed to get out of this place. However, since the Mukuro elected to fight, critically wounding the Oda would have to suffice, whether it be by the swordsman’s blade or the assassins. Though he remains unsure of his purpose here, wherever he is, Suiyo does know that he has fortunately come across quite a bit of wealth in the form of these blue gemstones. The Oda’s Kido, and new Hollow form, and the Assassin’s hand-crafted tools had been what intrigued him, not the fight itself. With the Mukuro now opting to engage the wounded Vasto, there really wasn’t much for Suiyo to do but figure out how to escape this strange place.
In the meantime however, he is perfectly content to observe this once in a lifetime spectacle. So many new possibilities had opened up in his mind, so many unforeseen experiences. What a trip this had been! How had he even got here? Last thing the Drunkard remembered was partying with a caravan, now suddenly he’s facing down a Vasto Lorde? The Shinigami really know how to throw a party!
With his previous actions now at their conclusion, and the arrival of the Second Captain now on scene, the images of the sleeping Suiyo, as well as the whispering Suiyo, disappear. What is left is the Suiyo on the sidelines who watches smiling, Gourd in hand. In the order of their disappearance, the timeline becomes revealed. Suiyo had fallen asleep shortly after acquiring the Anken, and had happily snored away, veiled in his reiatsu, while one Captain lost his arms and transformed, and the other sliced through the battlefield complaining. Waking up after this event, he moved to speak with the Mukuro, then to bait and attack the Vasto Lorde, before returning to the sidelines to retrieve his gourd. These events too, could have been followed based on the progression of his joint. He had none while sleeping, lit one while speaking to Kyomu, finished it while addressing the Vasto, and was lacking one when he had returned to the Mukuro Apparition's side.
Yes indeed, perception is a funny thing. It is this level of hypotheticals, of simultaneous events, misplaced diversions, and subtle tactics, that display exactly why these three men are the best at what they do. These events are what make the fight incomprehensible to all but the most experienced observer, and what causes this fight’s broadcast to rise to the center of attention above the other two.
It truly is a battle of the best.
