Gusion stood barefoot on the battered tatami, blood flowing down his body, like a man made of blood.
Unohana's sword skill was much higher than his. In just a dozen minutes, he'd lost over half his Vital Source.
His body was crisscrossed with wounds, some deep enough to damage muscle.
He stepped forward, moving slowly toward Unohana by the wall. It felt like climbing a steep, snowy peak—the summit was her sword skill, and the falling snow was her killing aura.
Was he going to die?
So unwilling. His first truly satisfying fight and it was ending so soon?
No. He wasn't done fighting. He still wanted to climb!
His martial path had just begun.
He looked at the asauchi in his hand. Aizen had said he was resisting that power. Even now, he wasn't sure.
But after repeatedly entering that hell, trying to communicate with the demonic figure, he finally understood something.
Why ask its name?
Shouldn't I be the one to name my Zanpakutō?
Right, Mazoku.
...
The atmosphere changed.
Just as Unohana was about to finish the fight, she froze—Gusion's presence had changed.
The sunset shone through the slashed paper window, lighting his back. Blood slid over his muscles like a demon's mask weeping blood.
Blood pooled around his feet, staining the tatami a dark, dreamy purple-black.
From Unohana's angle, he stood before the huge painting, the sun at his back, his face adjacent to the tiger's painted eye.
He spoke, his low voice opening Unohana's heart and the gates of hell.
"Shatter the chains, Mazoku."
With those words, purple-black mist rose from Gusion, drifting sideways in the breeze. The tiger in the painting seemed to come alive, its eyes gaining spirit.
Muscles tensed, the tiger poised to pounce at the demon, its eyes burning with purple-black fire—just like the man's rising battle spirit.
Roar—!
The shockwave of spiritual pressure sounded like a tiger's roar and a dragon's cry as if a god imprisoned for countless cycles was cheering—and venting its rage!
Gusion stood there, holding his newly awakened Zanpakutō.
The blade was pitch black, with a hollowed-out blood groove covered in purple-black, vine-like twisted patterns that extended to the hilt, forming a purple-black chain wrapping his arm.
Mist coiled around him, and with the blood, it looked like an Asura.
Gusion exhaled, reborn. His spiritual pressure suddenly rose to match Unohana's—and he felt the limiter activate on him too, meaning he could go even higher.
All his combat stats increased by 1—strength went up by 2!
He felt his senses sharpen, and his reflexes leap to a new level.
And compared to the asauchi, Mazoku was incomparably sharper.
Seeing his Shikai, Unohana smiled dangerously. "Shikai, huh? Looks like you can entertain me even more, Gusion-kun."
She held Minazuki, not using Shikai. Hers was a biological-type Zanpakutō—Shikai would turn it into a giant, flat, one-eyed creature, which would hinder her in this fight.
Gusion shifted to a two-handed grip, lowering his stance. His purple-black eyes burned with battle spirit. "Time to hand in my paper, sensei!"
As he spoke, the tatami flipped, air swirling, purple-black mist trailing like a line across the massive painting.
Minazuki and Mazoku clashed, sparks flying.
In an instant, they exchanged dozens of blows. Unohana's eyes gleamed with killing intent and pleasure.
Yes, that's it—entertain me!
Mazoku struck from above. Unohana blocked with one hand on the blade.
To her surprise, Gusion didn't leap back to absorb the force. Instead, he pushed harder, using the rebound to leap into the air.
He shot up to the ceiling, adjusted in midair, and grabbed it with his bare toes like a tiger's claws.
Then, like a cannonball, he dove down, blade and mist slashing for her head.
Clang—!
Unohana blocked, forced back several steps. A thousand years of experience let her dodge his follow-up slash.
Both accelerated, sword and blood flying, drawing a picture of violence and slaughter in the mist.
Floor, walls—even the ceiling became their footholds. The fight went from two dimensions to three.
Sparks flew. Madness met madness. Killing intent and battle spirit intertwined.
After another clash, both leaped back, landing on the wall.
Boom—!
The wall behind Gusion exploded. He became a purple-black flash.
Unohana, silent and deadly, turned into a pink-white blur.
They met at the center and crossed paths, a blood-red arc painting the demon in the mural, dripping down her chest like strange rain.
Gusion turned, looking at his arm falling from the air—his left arm cut almost at the root.
He flicked his blade, drawing a graceful arc, and looked at Unohana standing under the demon's image.
"Hahaha...!"
Unohana's manic laugh sounded. "Gusion-kun, want to join Squad 4?"
Gusion used Kaidō to stop the bleeding and shook his head. "As tempting as your offer is, sensei, I want to see more of the world first."
"Is that so... What a shame. But you're right—Squad 4 isn't for you."
She turned. A slash ran from her left shoulder to her lower abdomen, just as she'd taught Gusion to heal.
She'd lost. If not for her high original pressure, Gusion's last strike would have cut her down.
In that last instant, Gusion was not only faster, but made a better decision—so he lost an arm, and she took a fatal wound.
With her experience, she knew who won.
She could keep fighting, keep enjoying the carnage until Gusion died. But now, clear-headed, she knew that would be irresponsible—and a waste.
She gazed at the one-armed Gusion, her eyes shining with hope for the future.
She wished she could fight him at full strength one day.
PS: This is getting good.