Pitch-black. Endless pitch-black stretching beyond sight.
Where is this...
Asuka walked through the boundless void of darkness, trying to discern up from down, east from west.
Is this another dream? But wasn't I on a mission? How could I have fallen asleep?
Curious, he crouched down and touched the black ground beneath him.
So cold. A cold that pierced straight through the soul.
"So realistic... It's different from my usual dreams..." Asuka muttered.
He realized that both his five senses and the fluctuations of his spiritual pressure felt perfectly normal. There was none of that hazy confusion, nor any sense of weakness or exhaustion.
What exactly is going on...
As the thought formed, the darkness ahead began to writhe without warning.
A figure slowly emerged, as if bleeding out from an ink painting, gradually becoming clear.
He wore a dark green kendo uniform covered in sword scars. His long hair was tied in a high ponytail. In his hand, a black-and-green Nichirin Blade gleamed with piercing cold light, even within the pitch-black space.
It was Asuka's first time seeing this man, yet he recognized him the instant he laid eyes on him.
Tetsushin Arisaki.
No matter how much his appearance had changed, Asuka could instantly identify him from the aura of his soul alone. This was Teacher Arisaki.
At this time, he had not yet lost his arm. He looked to be just over thirty, lean and powerful, his presence imposing and resolute.
"Teacher?" Asuka called tentatively.
His answer was a flash of steel.
The former Wind Hashira moved like a raging gale, closing the distance in the blink of an eye!
Slash!
The Nichirin Blade howled as it swept across. Asuka twisted his body to dodge, but even the wind blade stirred by the strike tore straight through his skin!
Asuka's gaze sharpened. This was no simple dream.
It was the first time he had fought in a dream, and the first time he had felt such vivid pain within one.
"Forgive me, Teacher."
A gray glint flashed as Asuka drew his Asauchi in a bolt of lightning. The serrated blade released instantly.
Clang!
Nugata left its sheath, the blade humming.
Tetsushin Arisaki struck again. In his hands, the forms of Breath of Wind surged like a azure dragon tearing through the sky, rolling over clouds—every move a killing technique.
But Asuka was no less formidable. Even without using spiritual pressure slashes, with his keen eyes that could read through Arisaki's techniques and his increasingly refined swordsmanship, he blocked each and every attack with ease.
At this very moment, Asuka thought that perhaps this was the result of his recent relentless training. Thinking about swordsmanship day and night, he had ended up dreaming of Teacher Arisaki in his prime.
So he did not rush to end the battle. Instead, he used the genuine killing intent from his opponent to further temper and refine his own blade.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
The two became a blur of motion. Sparks burst from the violent collisions between the Nichirin Blade and Nugata, nearly illuminating the endless darkness.
After exposing a massive opening, Asuka decided it was time to finish it.
"Fourth Form: Rising Dust Storm!"
Nugata swept upward in a savage arc. Explosive blade wind roared skyward like the wailing of ten thousand ghosts!
Rip—
Gray-black blade light fused perfectly with invisible wind pressure, forming a spiraling shockwave that warped space itself, tearing Tetsushin Arisaki's figure apart.
As expected, the shattered figure dissipated within a few breaths, vanishing into the darkness without leaving even a trace of crimson.
It was only a dream.
He slowly steadied the raging storm within his chest, savoring the memory of Teacher Arisaki's youthful swordsmanship.
Yet after calming his breathing and waiting for a long while, the dream showed no sign of ending.
Still endless darkness. Still no answers.
Clap... clap... clap...
Clear, steady applause—calculated and unhurried—suddenly echoed from deep within the void.
Asuka frowned, searching for the source, but the sound seemed to come from everywhere at once.
He tightened his grip on Nugata, bracing for the next attack in this dream.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Measured footsteps approached from directly ahead.
Asuka focused, staring forward—and froze.
His pupils shrank.
His teeth trembled.
Rage began to boil.
The curtain of darkness lifted as though by an invisible hand, and a figure stepped out with elegant composure.
Tall and straight-backed, he wore a black kimono. Beneath his slightly curled brown hair rested an utterly ordinary pair of black-rimmed glasses.
Yet behind those lenses, his eyes were deep as an abyss—seeming to see through every secret of the world, carrying a lofty, almost pitying gaze.
"Beautifully done. But is this your wish, Number Seventy-Eight? Your obsession with escaping me is so intense... you even tore open a crack in the world..."
"Aizen!!!"
Asuka's calm expression shattered completely. Arcs of fury and hatred twisted across his face. Veins bulged and writhed across his forehead like living worms.
The name tore from between clenched teeth, as if he wanted to rip the refined man before him into pieces.
"What a surprise... I never imagined we would truly meet again, Number Seventy-Eight."
The man called Aizen adjusted his glasses, a gentle smile appearing on his face—as though greeting a long-lost junior.
"Haah!!!"
Asuka roared, leaping high into the air. Every muscle in his body thudded as he pushed himself to his absolute limit!
"Breath of Wind: Ninth Form—Idaten Typhoon!!!"
With reckless force, Nugata unleashed a devastating storm!
Gray blade light howled violently, forming a massive, high-speed tornado of slicing wind that hurtled toward Aizen!
This was the strongest sword form Asuka could use. Mixed with his surging, tearing spiritual pressure, it made space itself tremble and wail!
Where the blade wind passed, darkness was shredded into chaotic nothingness, breaking and twisting apart!
The dreamscape began shifting rapidly—transforming into a raging sea one moment, then into a fog-shrouded forest the next, collapsing and reforming without end.
Watching the terrifying spectacle, Aizen raised an eyebrow. Behind his lenses, curiosity flickered.
"...So this is the power of this world? Mere human swordsmanship, yet capable of stirring spirit particles..."
He did not move a single step. Not even a strand of his brown hair was disturbed by the raging storm.
Faced with a strike powerful enough to instantly annihilate a Lower Rank demon, the gentle smile on Aizen's face did not change in the slightest.
As Asuka's serrated blade howled forward, its edge about to reach Aizen's collar—
"Bakudo #8: Seki."
A calm, rippleless voice sounded.
Instantly, a pale blue spiritual shield formed before Aizen.
Clang!
A crisp impact exploded through the void.
The violent slash of Idaten Typhoon crashed against the shield and shattered.
The recoil sent searing pain through Asuka's arms. The skin at his palms split open, blood staining the hilt of his blade!
The next instant, the fractured shield released an irresistible repulsive force, hurling him backward. He slammed hard onto the icy black ground.
Pfft!
Sweetness rose in his throat as he spat out a mouthful of blood.
"Power born of anger only causes one to lose reason. It becomes crude and predictable, Number Seventy-Eight."
Aizen commented calmly on the strike.
But the next moment, he noticed something. His brow twitched slightly.
He turned his head, glancing at his shoulder.
Residual spiritual pressure from Asuka's slash clung there, carried by the storm. It had torn a corner of his Shihakusho.
The spiritual energy burned like an inextinguishable wildfire, steadily gnawing at the fabric.
Aizen reached out to touch the living flame, his eyes narrowing faintly.
"Oh? Now this is interesting..."