Bleach: The Invincible Slacker from Rukongai

Byakuya didn't expect Zaraki Kenpachi to be this unreasonable—to ignore strategy, timing, and priorities so completely.

This man didn't know the difference between what mattered and what didn't. He had no grasp of the bigger picture.

In that case… don't blame Senbonzakura for not recognizing you.

The two of them didn't even spare a glance at Espada Yammy, still standing on the platform in front of them. It was as if he didn't exist.

Up on a distant rock pillar, the ever-pink-haired Yachiru Kusajishi stared at them with wide, innocent eyes, her expression full of giddy anticipation. She wasn't worried about the outcome. In fact, she looked like she was watching the opening act of a comedy skit.

Then Yammy snapped.

"You two bastards… DIE!!" he roared.

Enraged at being ignored, Yammy activated his Resurrección without hesitation. A titanic surge of spiritual pressure exploded from him—stronger than any of the other Espada. To him, being dismissed like this wasn't just disrespectful—it was unforgivable.

A pillar of dark energy erupted from beneath him, roaring into the heavens. It wasn't just transformation—it was a declaration: the real battle was starting.

Right on cue, a swarm of lower-ranked Arrancar leapt from behind the dunes and charged toward the Shinigami duo.

Zaraki Kenpachi grinned wide, eyes flashing with bloodlust.

"Hahaha! Outta my way, you small fry!" he bellowed. His voice dripped with excitement, savagery, and greed. His blood boiled.

His eyes locked on Yammy.

"You... You're a big one. Just the kind of guy I love to cut down. Been a while since I had a proper fight. You're the perfect whetstone!"

The moment he finished speaking, his blade moved.

A blinding flash. An explosion of Reiatsu.

Golden energy surged like a tidal wave across the desert, devouring the sand dunes and vaporizing the horde of minor Arrancar in front of him. His sword gleamed like a white thread cutting through gold, dazzling and deadly.

BOOM!

The blast shattered bone, flesh, and steel, erasing the weak in one swing. Even the sand dunes weren't spared. Pulverized sand blasted into the distance like bullets under the shockwave.

The sheer force left a wake of devastation—and a cloud of glittering particles dancing in the aftermath.

Kuchiki Byakuya narrowed his eyes as he watched from the side.

"This monster… he's even stronger than before."

Zaraki didn't even have Bankai, and yet he kept growing stronger. Where was his limit?

Even among the eccentric captains of the Gotei 13, Zaraki Kenpachi was a complete anomaly. His fighting style, raw potential, and wild instincts defied logic and tradition. Byakuya didn't respect his mindset—but he acknowledged the strength.

Still, speaking of monsters… one far greater came to mind.

Uehara Shiroha.

A genius among geniuses. A monster among monsters. A being beyond any comparison in Soul Society's history.

He wasn't just strong—he was on another tier entirely. Not simply because of talent, but because of a level of effort and refinement that most couldn't even comprehend.

Byakuya still remembered the fight from decades ago.

His crushing loss to Uehara Shiroha had ignited a fire in him. Since then, he had trained relentlessly—day after day, year after year. While that man was off enjoying life, splurging money like an aristocratic playboy, Byakuya was grinding his blade and honing his discipline.

He hadn't wasted a single moment. Not one. He had trained harder than anyone else. For his pride, for his noble house, for his captain's haori.

He believed in the balance of hard work and talent. That if you gave enough effort, no genius could remain out of reach forever.

But reality was cruel.

After a century of back-breaking effort, the gap between him and Uehara Shiroha hadn't closed.

It had widened.

Not only had he failed to catch up—he had been left behind, hopelessly, irreversibly.

Even now, the residual Reiatsu that lingered in the air, long after Uehara had vanished, was proof of that. It was a strength that laughed in the face of logic—a level of power that simply should not exist.

Byakuya had once sneered at the others who called Uehara's power "unfathomable." He thought they were just making excuses for their weakness.

"Effort can surpass talent," he had believed.

"Hard work makes up the difference."

But now… he understood.

Hard work only widens the gap between you and the average. It can't overcome a true genius. Not one born of that caliber.

And Uehara Shiroha was that kind of genius.

Byakuya realized it now—with bitterness and shame.

All his pride, his effort, his training... meant nothing in front of that man. He hadn't even made a dent in the mountain.

To believe he could defeat Uehara Shiroha with hard work alone… was ridiculous.

He was nothing but a clown in comparison.

And that realization? Burned like hellfire.

At the same time, far across the battlefield, Unohana Retsu was quietly treating Kuchiki Rukia—but her eyes shifted to the horizon, her face thoughtful.

She sensed it.

Zaraki Kenpachi's Reiatsu. Stronger. Wilder. Hungrier.

He had become even more powerful.

She had watched his earlier "fight" with Uehara Shiroha—though calling it a fight was generous. It was a massacre. Kenpachi hadn't stood a chance. He was reduced to a helpless child in the face of overwhelming force.

And yet, he was not weak.

Zaraki Kenpachi, the 11th Division's berserker captain, was terrifying in his own right—filled with explosive potential. It was just that he chose the wrong opponent. Uehara Shiroha had transcended into something else entirely.

Even if you placed him among the legendary first generation of the Gotei 13, Uehara Shiroha would have stood among the strongest. A god of war. A phenomenon. Even Unohana, in her peak, wouldn't dare claim victory over him.

She felt it in her blood—the way her instincts recoiled and her muscles tensed whenever she sensed Uehara's lingering spiritual pressure. Even his casual attacks left behind trails of power that exceeded most captain-level Bankai.

He was just... different.

Only a few times in her entire life had she encountered someone like that.

But Zaraki Kenpachi... was growing.

It wasn't an illusion. Every time he neared death, he clawed a little further out of his own restraints. He didn't gain new power—he reclaimed what was sealed.

She used to think she was the only one in Soul Society who could awaken his true strength. After all, she was the one who forced him to suppress it in the first place.

She was the first Kenpachi.

According to tradition, the title should be passed through blood and battle. If Soul Society needed it, she would fulfill that duty. That was her role in his evolution.

But now… Uehara Shiroha had appeared.

And everything changed.

Unohana realized, with a strange mix of awe and dread, that even she might no longer be the most qualified to awaken Kenpachi's full potential.

Every time Uehara left traces of his spiritual power behind, it felt like her entire being was shaking. His Reiatsu made her blood boil. Her sword hand trembled—not in fear, but in hunger.

She had only ever seen this kind of presence...

Once or twice before in her entire existence.

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