The release of a zanpakutō's ability, at its core, is the manifestation of its wielder's inner world.
While there are exceptional cases where one can selectively draw out parts of a zanpakutō's power through controlled incantations...
Those are rare and hardly standard.
Yet...
Was Seiya still capable of such things?
From afar, Kyōraku Shunsui couldn't help but murmur under his breath with a slight gape:
"To be able to further develop his Shikai after his Bankai's abilities have already been defined?"
Ordinarily, that should be impossible.
But if you look deeper, perhaps… some exceptions do exist.
Ukitake Jūshirō pondered briefly, then proposed:
"The true name... could it be problematic?"
Could Sāgara Ryū not be the true name of the zanpakutō?
Of course, that would be absurd—but the line of thinking wasn't.
Seiya's Sāgara Ryū was the first zanpakutō in all of Soul Society's history to exhibit abnormalities.
(This timeline diverges in that Ichigo only earned his title after Seiya.)
Ōetsu Nimaiya, the creator of all zanpakutō names and master of the "blackening" technique, once blackened its name...
The result? Seiya's Bankai was forcibly sealed, leaving him no choice but to find alternative methods to fight.
But the consequences of that act reached far deeper than anyone had imagined.
Sāgara Ryū's full potential had yet to be revealed.
Not only the Bankai—even its Shikai wasn't complete.
The Shikai's ability was to gather enough data, analyze it, and find a "path to survival."
But that's just the prelude.
The true power of Sāgara Ryū was to capture a force it had encountered and completely analyzed, and then reinterpret it through Seiya's own methods.
Yes—Yamamoto's flames were indeed formidable. Their power could raze the very fabric of the world.
But none of that mattered anymore.
If a force didn't obliterate Seiya at first strike, he would begin to analyze and eventually understand it.
To Seiya now...
Ryūjin Jakka was no longer a purely aggressive force.
He gently extended his right hand toward a wisp of flame beside him.
And then, something unbelievable happened.
The flame under Yamamoto's command began to twist, coil… then slithered like a stream of fire to wrap around Seiya's wrist.
Power once lifeless now seemed alive, as if Seiya had granted it breath.
Even Yamamoto's eyes widened ever so slightly.
"What… is this?"
"A bit shocked, huh? Well, I guess that reaction's understandable."
Seiya casually flicked his wrist. The fiery serpent shattered, scattering into dancing sparks.
"Your guess had some merit, Yamamoto—but unfortunately, this isn't the true nature of my ability."
Adaptation?
That was too passive for Sāgara Ryū.
Seiya drew a breath, gazing steadily at the roaring inferno burning behind Yamamoto.
He extended his right hand again—
As though trying to grasp something invisible.
His expression tightened. Fingers trembled.
He reached for something intangible. Untouchable. Unfeelable.
And yet—he tore it, wrenched it, until it was clenched firmly in his grasp.
A spike of instinct made Yamamoto react—he turned.
The flames of Ryūjin Jakka—capable of reducing Soul Society to ash—
Were… twisting.
The energy warped, compressed by some unseen force, vibrating violently like an unstable nuclear core.
"…What the hell is that?!"
Even Ōmaeda realized the danger. The others didn't need to be told.
Yamamoto swung Ryūjin Jakka—
And like throwing a rock into the sea, the flames disappeared completely.
"Wait—why did the Head Captain do that?!"
Ōmaeda shouted. Sui-Feng, irritated, kicked him down.
"Can't you see what's happening before opening your mouth?!"
"So… what happened?"
Sui-Feng hesitated. Even she couldn't fully believe it.
After two breaths of stunned silence, she finally said it:
"It looked like… the Head Captain was about to lose control of his flames…"
Ōmaeda's brain froze.
The words made sense individually—but together?
How could the Head Captain possibly lose control of his own flames?
"Ah…"
Though slow-witted, the realization clicked.
He stared at the slim figure above, voice trembling.
"D-Don't tell me…"
"Did Seiya… control the Head Captain's flames?"
Even saying it sounded ridiculous—Yamamoto was the face of Soul Society, the pillar of the Gotei 13.
If even his power could be taken over, was there any point in this battle continuing?
And still, Seiya smiled.
"Wise decision, Yamamoto."
He'd realized his power was about to spiral out of control and sealed it.
Yamamoto responded by watching him in silence, his lips moving ever so slightly.
"You…"
Sāgara Ryū's power was not mere adaptation.
It went further—control.
Before defecting, Seiya had once faced Ryūjin Jakka.
That battle was not just to sever past ties—it was to gather enough data.
"Yamamoto, your flames no longer pose a threat to me."
As Seiya said—
Sāgara Ryū worked like a virus.
Once it fully understood an ability, it could begin to infect it.
At first, a sluggish interference.
But in time, full control would fall into Seiya's hands.
It was just a matter of time.
Anyone observing the fight, with a modicum of intuition, could tell—something had changed.
The data all pointed to the same thing.
But… could the Gotei 13 accept such a result?
Of course not.
As Yamamoto's prized student, Ukitake wore a stunned expression.
"…Impossible…"
"Why is it impossible?"
A calm voice finally broke the silence.
Aizen Sōsuke.
He'd watched with an indifferent gaze, seemingly unaffected by anything—
Except for that single figure who alone moved his heart.
"Does Seiya's power seem too exaggerated?"
"That arrogance… is your own weakness."
"Ukitake, if we intend to drag the throne of heaven down into the dirt—then we must be prepared."
"This is merely step one."
"The Gotei 13 will be our first stepping stone."
"It's time for this dusty age to end."
Aizen smiled with satisfaction. He raised his hand and snapped his fingers.
A tide of spiritual pressure erupted, spreading like a storm.
Even its resonance caused nausea and vertigo in many.
Thud.
It was Ise Nanao, vice-captain of the 8th Division, collapsing to her knees.
Beads of sweat drenched her face.
Her mouth opened in a silent gasp, as if on the verge of vomiting.
The sheer difference in soul pressure was enough to cause a complete breakdown.
"Are you alright?"
A large shadow appeared beside her, stabilizing the pressure.
It was Kyōraku Shunsui.
Nanao turned her head, ashamed, eyes downcast.
"I-I'm sorry, Captain… I didn't mean to—"
"No need to apologize. This battle was never one you could join."
And on that note—
Kyōraku raised his head, frowning.
"What is Aizen trying to do…"
The spiritual torrent didn't become an attack. Instead, it layered upon itself like a towering wall—covering the entire sky.
The blue heavens shimmered behind a crystalline barrier.
Nanao, still struggling, asked:
"What… what's strange about this?"
"Everything."
From a tactical standpoint, Aizen's action had no meaning.
Even trying to think like him, Kyōraku couldn't make sense of it.
But Nanao still wanted to help.
"It's almost like… he's trying to block something out…"
"…?!"
Kyōraku's eyes flashed. He suddenly understood.
"Of course! Nanao, you're a lifesaver!"
He tried to shout toward Yamamoto—but the dense reiryoku had already become a barrier.
Aizen's smirk vanished behind the shimmering crystal wall.
"The audience has no place interfering," he said. "Just applaud when the curtain falls."
Kyōraku exhaled heavily.
"This cocky attitude… pisses me off."
He could try breaking the wall—but he risked provoking Aizen.
And if Nanao got caught up in it…
He glanced sideways.
Silently organizing his thoughts, Kyōraku reverted to his usual laid-back demeanor.
All they could do now—was wait.
Yamamoto… you'd better win.
"Yamamoto… are you going to surrender?"
Inside Aizen's crystalline arena, Seiya exhaled, looking toward the old man.
"If you don't bring out your real power soon… this battle's outcome is inevitable."
In the short time since Aizen raised the barrier…
They'd exchanged a fierce bout of hand-to-hand combat.
Both bore wounds, signs of intense effort.
But unlike before, Seiya had clearly improved.
Not through luck.
But by mastering his abilities properly.
"I've recorded every one of your moves within my zanpakutō. During my time in Hueco Mundo, I created countless simulations of you, fought them over and over…"
"I've learned your style—and even the tiniest flaws you might not be aware of."
"I may not be as strong as you… but this much…"
At least enough to hold his own.
Yamamoto silently lowered his right hand, seemingly dropping his guard.
Anyone watching might think it a sign of surrender.
But it wasn't.
After a breath of calm…
The old man's eyes sharpened like blades.
No hesitation.
No need for words.
He raised his right hand level to his chest—and whispered:
"Bankai."
----------
Powerstones?
For 20 advance chapters: patreon.com/michaeltranslates