Looking at the shirtless, white-bearded old man before him, Akira couldn't help but feel nervous.
While others might not know much about Genryūsai's background, Akira certainly did.
Though this old man wasn't tall — barely reaching 1.7 ters even with shoes on — his body was pure muscle. No Shinigami had surpassed him in a thousand years; he was the undisputed top fighter in the Soul Society. Whether with sword, fist, or spells, he excelled at everything.
Facing this legendary warrior in a sparring match filled Akira with uncertainty.
With his current strength, Akira knew he'd be lucky to last even one round out of ten.
One punch from this ancient Shinigami would send him straight to the afterlife.
"In the Elent Style, hesitation is our greatest enemy." Genryūsai furrowed his brows and flexed his broad shoulders, his terrifying muscles rippling as an overwhelming presence swept forward, creating a suffocating pressure.
Even without releasing any Reiatsu, his re presence gave the sensation of facing hell itself.
"Are you afraid?" He said in a deep voice, "When you face death directly, such emotions vanish!"
Without waiting for a response, Genryūsai's massive hand thrust forward, coming straight down toward Akira's head. A sonic boom rang out, accompanied by scorching wind.
Akira's pupils contracted as his survival instincts scread. That huge hand grew larger in his vision, consuming his entire world.
If he couldn't block it, he'd die!
With no ti to think, he entrusted his survival to instinct, instantly unleashing the Hakuda techniques he'd based from the Shihōin family.
⤫ Tenrin Reppū ⥤ Celestial Violent Wind Fist! ⤬
His fingers flexed, forming a fist, and as he shifted his stance, his lean fist broke through the air with a piercing sound, generating shockwaves as it shot toward that descending palm!
Boom!
As fist t palm, fierce winds howled and surged, the explosion-like sound making his eardrums ache.
His last Hakuda battle had been against Yoruichi. Though he lost, it wasn't too bad.
Compared to then, Akira was now ten tis stronger! In another close-quarters Hakuda battle with Yoruichi, he could even dominate her.
But this ti, his opponent was Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto. That increase in strength ant nothing.
It was like mastering the basics of Go and confidently passing the beginner level, ready to face your first opponent — only to find yourself against AlphaGo.
Such an overwhelming gap in skill could crush anyone's spirit.
{T/N: Ti for knowledge! AlphaGo is an AI projected to play Go, a type of superpowerful buffed Checkers (Or else, Go for dumb people), who beca so good at it that it defeated the 18 tis World Champion Lee Sedol in a match. Now you can go on!}
Before Akira, raw power and speed rged with terrifying force techniques into a singular display of might.
Genryūsai's muscles and sinews moved like grinding iron, radiating heat like a volcano ready to erupt.
Unlike the Shihōin family's swift and varied Hakuda techniques, Genryūsai's style was direct, his body concealing devastating power techniques.
As his five fingers spread, power like a volcano burst forth. A thunderous roar split the air as invisible shockwaves surged forward with crushing force.
Akira's breath caught in his throat, his thoughts frozen as he faced this overwhelming enemy.
The shockwave struck the dojo floor, exploding violently and splitting the ground. With a series of sharp cracks, the solid floor burst open into a massive crater, like a dark maw waiting to swallow him whole.
Akira dodged the strike, his fighting spirit igniting as he glanced up.
Taking hits wasn't his style. Even facing this insurmountable gap, he would give everything he had, determined to leave his mark on his opponent.
His heart pounded, his face flushed as power surged through him.
When Genryūsai attacked again, Akira didn't dodge. With a fierce grin tugging at his mouth, he channeled every ounce of power from his Spiritual Body into a single forward punch.
The mont fist t palm, power vast as the ocean erupted between them.
That instant of collision taught Akira the aning of true disparity. Power flooded his fra, the burning force coursing through every inch of flesh and bone.
His pupils contracted as mories flashed before his eyes — the struggle for survival in the Sakahone District, Nanao's gentle smile, the solemn ceremony of becoming a Shrine Official, and that gentle yet terrifying black-haired Captain...
Was it all an illusion?
Akira drifted into a daze, numb to pain and detached from his body. His rigid eyes stared ahead as if watching from outside himself.
In that eternal mont, he watched the shiny bald head growing more distant, the gap between them widening.
He realized then — he was flying backward.
In complete silence, his feet left the shattered floor, tracing a graceful arc through the air.
With a bewildered expression, he sailed dozens of ters before crashing like a teor at the dojo entrance, his body tumbling and flailing like a fish out of water.
When consciousness finally returned, pain wracked his entire body as if he'd been crushed by a stone roller countless tis.
The agony was unbearable. Each breath was a struggle.
Having achieved his purpose, Genryūsai calmly withdrew his presence, donned his Shihakushō and captain's haori, then strode to Akira's side. He lifted him like a chick and carried him back into the dojo.
The entire process was fluid, as if rehearsed countless tis.
"Don't resist." Genryūsai said casually, "Though my Kaidō isn't as refined as Captain Unohana's, it's sufficient for your current injuries."
His old, scarred hand pressed directly onto Akira's chest, beginning a rather rough healing process.
The priest's face had turned deathly pale.
Not from his injuries, but from pure shock — his mind blank, thoughts scattered.
The old man's single Hakuda move had demonstrated the true aning of disparity in skill.
Just like facing Unohana's Death Sword Style — utterly helpless, a completely one-sided defeat.
Akira, who had been quietly proud of mastering a few Shihōin family secret techniques, now had only one thought.
As he recovered slightly, he looked up at that elderly, dignified face, tears gleaming in his eyes.
"Coach! I want to learn the Elent Style!"
⤫⤬⤫
T/N: If you want more Chapters like this, check out my Patreon! I'm constantly translating and the difference will keep getting bigger!
For just $1 you can access all the extra content, and descriptive images, costs only $2!
That's it and happy reading! (-‿◦)
/mrblackwing
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