BLEACH: Blade of Purification

No matter how terrifying one's talent, no matter how powerful one might become in the future, that was still the future. The present, where that talent had not yet been fully realized, was a stage of weakness that every person, every Shinigami, had to pass through.

For someone like Ling Qing, who had not even been holding a sword for half a year, to reach his current level and astonish so many Captains was already remarkable. To challenge a thousand years of Yamamoto's accumulated experience with only six months of training was, frankly, somewhat laughable. Even Shihōin Sōichirō, who had proposed the idea, felt it was a bit of a fantasy.

Chōjirō Sasakibe considered himself Yamamoto's attendant; his duty was to protect the Captain-Commander in every way. If just anyone could challenge Yamamoto, wouldn't that diminish his standing? Logically, he should have tried to stop Yamamoto from accepting such an absurd challenge, or at the very least, tested Ling Qing's depth himself first.

But even he did not object. In his eyes, this was merely a whim of Yamamoto's, a moment where he wished to play with a child.

Yes, just playing. If it were a serious challenge, Chōjirō would have adopted an appropriate stance. But if it was just play, he would not dare to disturb the Captain-Commander's amusement. The fact that these other Captains were still in their yukata, watching the spectacle, perhaps revealed their subconscious thoughts on the matter as well.

But now, when that thunderous strike flashed, when a strand of Yamamoto's beard was severed and scattered by the wind, everyone's attitude changed in an instant.

Even Yamamoto's.

If Ling Qing could sever a strand of his beard now, did that mean the next cut could land on his body?

That's how battle works. When the first crack appears in an unbreakable wall, the appearance of a second, a third, and even its eventual destruction becomes foreseeable.

While Yamamoto was still thinking of using such methods to persuade Ling Qing to back down, Ling Qing was dead serious, genuinely searching for a way to defeat him. Even though he knew his chances of victory were slim, to face a powerhouse like Yamamoto with a careless "I can't win anyway" attitude would be a terrible waste.

The atmosphere in the training grounds suddenly shifted. Sensing this change, Ling Qing did not press his attack but stopped, meeting Yamamoto's gaze.

Yamamoto looked at Ling Qing's face, at the smile that appeared there, and narrowed his eyes slightly. He saw no trace of arrogance, only the calm confidence of a true warrior. It was the smile of someone who, even when facing a foe of vastly superior strength, believed he would not be easily defeated and might even be able to overcome the impossible.

"I have underestimated you, boy," Yamamoto said in a deep voice.

"Are you... finally going to get serious, Captain-Commander?"

The smile on Ling Qing's face did not waver. He felt the pressure on his shoulders gradually intensifying, yet his desire to fight only grew stronger.

It was no illusion. In this fierce blizzard, the temperature within the training grounds seemed to rise, and a faint, scorching heat could be felt. It was a scorching, ancient aura. An aura radiating from Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni!

If before, only Ling Qing's Reiatsu had been released without restraint, now Yamamoto's powerful Reiatsu was finally beginning to suppress it!

"It is about time I did," Yamamoto said, lifting his cane.

In an instant, as if shedding its disguise, the cane's form collapsed, replaced by an ordinary, featureless Zanpakutō. If one had to describe it, the only fitting word would be 'ancient,' just like Yamamoto himself. The blade of the Soul Society's oldest and strongest fire-type Zanpakutō seemed to bear the countless marks of time and innumerable battles.

Yamamoto's eyes, which always seemed to be closed, opened slightly, fixing on Ling Qing.

"I will say it one more time. If you wish to regret this, now is your last chance."

He placed his hand on the hilt of his blade. Golden flames began to envelop the scabbard even before the sword was drawn. If the previous Yamamoto was an insurmountable mountain, the current Yamamoto had become an unstoppable, all-consuming sun. Ling Qing felt a wave of heat wash over him, his throat becoming dry.

"Because the moment I draw my blade, if you cannot achieve your own release, you will die here!"

At the edge of the training grounds, Shunsui Kyōraku, with his arms crossed, suddenly spoke.

"You know... Captain Shihōin, I think you should probably go find Captain Unohana in Squad 4 right now."

"..."

Shunsui's gaze fell on the small, missing piece of Yamamoto's beard.

"The old man... he's really angry now."

Yamamoto had lived for a very long time. There were few things he truly cherished, which meant that the things he did care about, he cared for deeply. Shunsui knew that Yamamoto treasured that beard of his more than anything. Ling Qing might not have realized it, but even in the few times Yamamoto had been forced to fight, against enemies far stronger than Ling Qing, his beard had never suffered such a loss.

His composure, which allowed him to protect his beard even against stronger foes, had been shattered by Ling Qing when he least expected it. It was no surprise that Yamamoto was now taking this so seriously.

"...Saitō."

After a moment of silence, Shihōin Sōichirō called Saitō Gotsuki's name. Without needing a direct order, Saitō understood and vanished from the Squad 1 training grounds.

Sōichirō's eyes were locked on the scene, on Ling Qing, who now faced Yamamoto with slightly widened eyes. He unconsciously clenched his jaw.

Even if things hadn't escalated this far, fighting Yamamoto was an extremely dangerous affair. Even with Yamamoto's masterful control, his power was so immense that the same flame, no matter how controlled, would be unbearable for an ordinary Shinigami. This was a fundamental difference in scale.

But Sōichirō had still made this insane decision! Because in his view, in the current Seireitei, only Yamamoto possessed the absolute, irresistible pressure needed to push Ling Qing to his limits, while also having the skill to hold back at the critical moment and not annihilate him in a single blow.

Sōichirō still remembered the words spoken by the materialized Zanpakutō spirit, the one that looked exactly like Ling Qing, back on the outskirts of the Rukongai.

"Don't you die before you can speak my name."

Ling Qing was currently unable to communicate with his Zanpakutō because the spirit was unwilling to see him. With all other conditions met, the timing of his release depended entirely on his Zanpakutō's mood, which was unpredictable. If it was in a good mood, it could happen tomorrow. If not, it could take ten or twenty years.

But from the way the Zanpakutō had immediately appeared to save him from the Adjuchas' attack when his life was in danger, it was clear there was no deep-seated hatred between them. This meant that when Ling Qing once again faced a life-threatening, absolutely overwhelming pressure, his Zanpakutō would appear again.

Because Ling Qing's Zanpakutō would not let him die before he could speak its name!

Sōichirō admitted there was a gamble involved. But today, one of two things had to happen: either Ling Qing achieved his Shikai, or he would be beaten to within an inch of his life.

Ling Qing... you must succeed! Shihōin Sōichirō clenched his fists, praying silently.

At the same time, the winter chill vanished in an instant, replaced by a scorching heat that stung the skin.

This phenomenon could only mean one thing—

"All things in the universe, turn to ash—"

Finally, Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni drew his sword.

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