Bleach: Spirits Are Forever With You

Volume 2: Prologue

Prologue

The air was thick with anticipation as Zaraki Kenpachi, the fearsome Captain of the 11th Division, made his way through the streets of the Seireitei. His steps were heavy, deliberate, each footfall resonating like a drumbeat that heralded the approach of war. He was a man born for battle, a living embodiment of chaos, and now, as he approached the Senkaimon, the gateway to the living world, he was eager for the fight that awaited him. The sharp, untamed energy that always surrounded him seemed to crackle even more intensely today, a promise of the violence that was soon to come.

But Zaraki was not alone. Behind him, following his every step, was the entirety of the 11th Division—a formidable force, a black sea of warriors that filled the streets. Their black uniforms blended together, creating an unbroken tide that surged forward with unwavering determination. The ground seemed to tremble beneath the weight of their collective reiatsu, the spiritual pressure of a thousand battle-hardened souls moving as one.

The members of the 11th Division were notorious throughout the Soul Society. They were a band of ruffians, fierce and unruly, living for the thrill of combat. Where other divisions prided themselves on discipline and strategy, the 11th thrived on raw power and the unquenchable thirst for battle. And now, every last one of them marched behind their captain, their spirits high, eager for the bloodshed to come.

Despite the overwhelming force behind him, Zaraki grumbled, his voice rough like gravel. "I'll be fine on my own. I don't need the lot of you getting in my way."

Ikkaku Madarame, his loyal third seat and longtime companion, was quick to retort, his tone carrying a mix of respect and camaraderie. "Yeah, we know that, Captain. But you won't be able to find Roca by yourself. That Arrancar's got such low reiatsu, she's like a ghost. You'd just end up wandering around aimlessly."

Zaraki snorted, but there was no anger in his expression, just the usual wild glint in his eye. Ikkaku was right, of course. Roca, the elusive Arrancar, was the key to finding Azashiro Kenpachi, the rogue captain who had escaped from the Muken, the deepest level of the Soul Society's prison. Zaraki had been itching for a chance to fight Azashiro, to test himself against another Kenpachi, but first, they needed to find the woman who was the key to it all.

The streets of Seireitei were quieter than usual, the typical buzz of activity subdued by the sight of the entire 11th Division on the move. The civilians who lived near the barracks—a rough lot themselves, hardened by years of living in close proximity to the most violent of the Gotei 13—watched in awe. They were used to seeing small groups of 11th Division members causing a ruckus, but this was different. The sight of the entire division departing at once was something rare, something that commanded respect, even from those who were no strangers to violence.

In one of the local bars, a woman watched from the doorway, her hand idly gripping a bottle. She was a regular sight in these parts, known for her no-nonsense attitude and her willingness to break a bottle over the head of any unruly soldier who stepped out of line. But today, there was no need for such measures. Today, she watched in silent awe, her tough exterior momentarily softened by the spectacle before her.

Beside her, an old man sipped his sake, his weathered face etched with memories of a time long past. As he watched the black sea of warriors march by, a tear formed in the corner of his eye, glistening like a drop of rain before it disappeared into the wrinkles of his skin. It wasn't the sight of the division that moved him, but the memories it stirred. Memories of a time when another Kenpachi, Kuruyashiki, had led these same warriors into battle. The nostalgia was bittersweet, a reminder of battles fought and comrades lost.

High above the streets, standing on a rooftop, two figures observed the scene below with a mixture of admiration and longing. Abarai Renji, Vice-Captain of the 6th Division, crossed his arms over his chest, his sharp eyes following the march of the division he had once been a part of. Beside him, Iba Tetsuzaemon, Vice-Captain of the 7th Division, stood with a similar posture, his hand resting on the hilt of his Zanpakutou.

"This brings back memories, huh?" Iba remarked, his voice carrying a hint of wistfulness. "Back when we were part of that black sea."

Renji nodded, his usually boisterous demeanor subdued by the sight before him. "Yeah... It makes your blood itch, doesn't it? Seeing them like this."

Iba grinned, a fierce light in his eyes. "You know it does. There's nothing like the 11th Division. Even after all these years, just seeing them like this... it makes you want to jump back in."

Renji said nothing, but he couldn't deny the truth in Iba's words. The violent, heavy reiatsu of the man leading the charge was unmistakable, a force of nature that demanded attention. Zaraki Kenpachi was a name that inspired both fear and admiration, a man whose love for battle was unmatched. Renji had faced many opponents, had been in countless battles, but the memory of his own encounter with Zaraki was something he could never forget.

"How the hell..." Renji muttered under his breath, his thoughts drifting to the past. "How the hell did Ichigo ever manage to defeat Captain Zaraki without even using his Bankai?"

The question hung in the air, unanswered,

Chapter End