Never before had Mole City Kenpachi spoken this much.
It felt as though, in these moments, he had said more than he had in the entire year since he took over as captain of the Eleventh Division.
It was clear now—Tsuneyashiro Yushiki had died by his hand.
Yet, by his reasoning, even if he hadn't acted, Yushiki's death would have come eventually.
> "Hueco Mundo's unchecked expansion is a threat to the balance of the worlds. The noble clans, hoarding the bulk of the Soul Society's resources, suffocate the Gotei 13's ability to function effectively. Meanwhile, Rukongai's citizens—who form the true base of Soul Society—live in desperation. Under such circumstances, how likely is it for Shinigami to even be born among them anymore?"
Kenpachi's voice, typically indifferent, now held a rare urgency.
> "Have you ever calculated how many Shinigami die each year in duty? And how many are actually born to replace them?"
> "I used to run those numbers in my spare time."
> "And the answer I reached was simple: this current system... will collapse."
His words teetered between logic and madness. A grim clarity burned in his gaze, one that even Gosuke Shigure hadn't seen before.
> "Hueco Mundo multiplies endlessly, churning out Hollows faster than we can dispatch them. And what of the Shinigami? We're a limited force—overworked, under-resourced. Even Gillian-class Menos are a struggle for most divisions. Sooner or later, Hueco Mundo will consume us all."
For a man as reserved as Kenpachi, this flood of emotion—this ideology—was nearly shocking.
In the past, even in dire briefings or battles, Mole City Kenpachi maintained an unnerving calm. But now, his voice cracked slightly under the weight of his vision.
> "And what exactly does that have to do with your actions?" Gosuke Shigure asked, his tone steady as ever.
Kenpachi turned toward him, eyes sharp.
> "Souls, when they die in the World of the Living, either become pluses and ascend here, or fall into Hueco Mundo and become Hollows—or worse, Hollow-fodder. Only a small handful enter Soul Society with the potential to become Shinigami. Even fewer are chosen. Do you see the imbalance?"
> "The tide is against us."
> "This world... it's broken. And I was born with the power to fix it. So why wouldn't I?"
Kenpachi's fists clenched at his sides.
> "Instead of letting the souls in Rukongai fade into nothingness, I found a better use—transform them, give them strength. Arm them with the ability to destroy Hollows. If the Gotei 13 is too weak and too slow, I'll build something new, something better."
His true goal now stood revealed.
Gosuke Shigure, watching carefully, felt no surprise. It merely confirmed what he had suspected.
> "You're trying to weaponize the souls of Rukongai?"
Kenpachi's eyes narrowed.
> "I'm giving them purpose."
Then he looked directly at his vice-captain.
> "Gosuke. You're sharp. Disciplined. And unlike the rest, you see things clearly. I'm offering you a place beside me. Will you help me?"
Gosuke Shigure didn't hesitate.
> "Sorry."
The word was quiet—but final.
Kenpachi exhaled slowly, as though he had expected nothing else.
> "I see."
A flicker of something—regret, perhaps—crossed his expression. But it vanished as quickly as it came.
And then, without warning, he moved.
A flash of Shunpo—fast, clean, practiced.
He reappeared behind Gosuke Shigure, arm outstretched.
> "Hadō #33: Sōkatsui!"
A brilliant blue wave of fire erupted, roaring toward Gosuke in a spiraling column.
Even without the incantation, Kenpachi's Kidō was devastating. Though the Eleventh Division traditionally rejected Kidō in favor of direct combat, Mole City Kenpachi had always defied tradition. He had once eliminated a rampaging Gillian in a single cast—without even drawing his blade.
But Gosuke was ready.
Sensing Kenpachi's killing intent the moment he declined his offer, Gosuke activated Shunpo, blinking out of the attack's path.
The Kidō detonated behind him in a cascade of flame, tearing a fresh crater into the already-scarred landscape of Zaraki District.
The two Shinigami now stood opposite each other—swapped positions, but unchanged in resolve.
> "So you are trying to kill me," Gosuke said.
Kenpachi's voice came low and hard.
> "You've seen too much. I don't want to do this—but I can't allow you to live."
Gosuke narrowed his eyes.
> "Then have you considered this: even if you kill me, your secret won't stay buried. You think you can kill every witness? Silence every whisper?"
Kenpachi didn't answer.
Instead, he summoned his blade.
> "Uruu Zeryuu."
The name rang into the open air.
A surge of Reiatsu burst out, thick and oppressive.
From seemingly nowhere, a blade materialized in his hand—ordinary in appearance, like a standard sealed Zanpakutō. Yet the spiritual pressure coiled around it like a storm waiting to be unleashed.
For the first time in his tenure as captain, Kenpachi had drawn his sword.
Shunsui had once mentioned to Gosuke, half-jokingly, "If that man's ever serious enough to draw his Zanpakutō, you'll know something terrible is about to happen."
He was right.
> "Should I feel honored?" Gosuke asked, watching the blade warily.
Kenpachi didn't respond.
He simply struck.
The sword sliced forward with devastating speed.
Gosuke narrowly dodged to the left. The ground split with the force of the slash, sending rocks and dirt flying in all directions.
A deep, jagged scar now marred the earth between them.
They stood in the Zaraki District of North Rukongai—an ungoverned region known for its brutality and lawlessness. The land here was barren, and the people had long learned to fend for themselves. In many ways, this land mirrored the men now fighting upon it.
The souls Kenpachi had gathered earlier—the intended subjects of his next experiment—had long since scattered. At the first sign of Shinigami-level combat, they had fled into the wasteland in terror.
In Zaraki, only the strongest survive.
But today, even the strongest of bullies knew better than to stay between two titans.