The battle erupted with blinding speed.
Kensei vanished in an instant, the sharp whisper of shunpo slicing through the air. One moment, he was meters away—the next, he was right there, his blade arcing toward Mercer's throat.
Mercer's eyes flicked wide, instincts kicking in.
Damn, he's fast—
At the last second, he twisted his body backward, flipping onto his hands as the blade barely missed his neck. While still in motion, he swung his left foot upward, aiming a brutal kick at Kensei's jaw, adding mass to his leg for extra force.
THWACK!
The impact was imminent—except Kensei reacted with razor-sharp reflexes, angling his wakizashi against Mercer's shin. Sparks flew as steel met enhanced muscle, the force pushing the edge dangerously close to his own face. With a swift push, Kensei propelled himself backward, landing lightly on his feet a few meters away.
His jaw tightened.
What the hell was that? He flexed his arm, feeling the lingering shock of the impact. That kick was too damn strong… even my sword almost wasn't enough to parry it.
Mercer, now back on his feet, didn't waste time.
His muscles coiled. Biomass surged into his legs, enhancing them just enough for a sudden burst of speed. In the blink of an eye, he launched himself forward, his right fist cocked back. Midair, the biomass shifted, draining from his legs and flooding into his arm.
The air split apart as Mercer's right hook came crashing toward Kensei.
Reacting fast, Kensei raised his right arm to block. The moment Mercer's fist connected, a deep boom echoed as the force sent the captain skidding backward, his heels digging into the cracked ground. He gritted his teeth as his arm throbbed from the sheer power behind the punch.
What kind of monster is this guy? That wasn't even a serious attack, and it almost knocked my arm out of its socket…
He glanced down at his right arm. His shoulder sat awkwardly out of place. Tch. Damn it.
Without hesitation, Kensei switched his wakizashi to his left hand and turned toward the nearest wall.
CRACK!
He slammed his injured shoulder into it with brutal force, the sickening pop of realignment sending a sharp jolt of pain through his body. He hissed but held firm, rolling his arm to test it.
Then he noticed something strange.
Mercer was just… standing there.
Relaxed. Arms at his sides. A faint smirk on his lips.
"Pretty gutsy of you," Mercer remarked, watching Kensei with an amused glint in his eyes. "Setting your arm back in place mid-fight. I'll give you credit for that."
Kensei frowned. "Shut up. Why did you stop?"
Mercer rolled his shoulders nonchalantly. "I want you to come at me with your sword. Give me your best shot. Maybe then I'll stop underestimating you."
The words were delivered so casually, yet the arrogance behind them was razor-sharp. Kensei's eyes twitched. His fingers clenched around the hilt of his wakizashi. "You were toying with me this whole time?" His voice dropped into a low, dangerous growl. Mercer's smirk widened just a little.
"By the looks of it? Yeah."
There was no hesitation. No attempt to soften the words. Just a blunt, unapologetic truth. A vein bulged visibly on Kensei's forehead.
"You bastard…" he breathed. His spiritual pressure flared, the air around him distorting slightly from his sheer fury. "If you want to die a painful death—so be it."
His grip tightened on his blade. His wounded right arm trembled slightly, but he didn't care. His pride as a captain burned too hot to back down now.
Once again, he vanished.
This time, Mercer was ready—he shifted his stance, preparing to dodge the same way as before.
I've seen this move already—
But something was off.
Kensei's trajectory wasn't the same. It was deliberate. Purposeful.
Just as Mercer began his dodge, he saw it—
Shit. He baited me.
By the time he realized his mistake, it was too late. His body had already committed to the motion.
Kensei's eyes gleamed with satisfaction.
Gotcha.
With a sudden twist, he altered his movement mid-strike.
Mercer, still in the middle of dodging, saw the blade flash—
And this time, he wasn't fast enough.
The battle surged forward like a raging storm.
Kensei vanished again, using shunpo to appear behind Mercer in a flash, his blade poised to strike.
Too predictable.
Mercer pivoted hard to the right, dodging the slash by a hair's breadth. His counter was instant—a swift leg sweep aimed to knock Kensei off balance. The captain felt the force hook behind his ankle, and before he could react, his footing was stolen. He hit the ground but rolled smoothly onto his feet, glaring at Mercer.
"Was that it?" Mercer taunted.
"I've got more tricks up my sleeve, you scumbag," Kensei spat back, irritation flashing in his eyes.
Mercer smirked, folding his arms. "What can you do with one good arm?" Kensei's grip on his wakizashi tightened. "More than I could do with both."
Without another word, he leaped back, putting distance between them. His blade leveled at shoulder height, and he muttered a single phrase:
"Blast away, Tachikaze."
Mercer's senses flared.
He activated his new vision for a brief moment, and what he saw made his eyes narrow.
White light gathered around Kensei, swirling like a coiling storm. Mercer's mind snapped back to their conversation.
'Your leaking spiritual pressure says otherwise.'
Spiritual pressure.
That's it.
The swirling light—the raw, shifting energy—was coming from within Kensei. It wasn't just light, it was power.
And Mercer could see it.
So that's what this new power of mine is all about…
The realization clicked, but there was no time to dwell on it.
The air around Kensei condensed, spiritual energy shrinking and tightening around his blade. Then, in a flash, his wakizashi changed—becoming a combat knife with a bronze guard, light purple wrapping, and a gray leather grip. A small ring gleamed at the base of the hilt.
Kensei smirked. "Since you're some invader from another dimension, I figured you wouldn't know how a shikai works. So let me educate you, you leather-hooded bastard."
Mercer rolled his shoulders. "I don't care much for giving swords weird names, but I'm eager to learn whatever lesson you're about to teach."
Kensei didn't respond. Instead, he threw his knife into the air.
Mercer's eyes flicked up to track the weapon.
What's he planning…?
But before he could react, Kensei was on him.
Another burst of shunpo, and Kensei closed the distance with nothing but his fists.
Mercer dodged the left uppercut easily. The right-handed superman punch came next— Mercer side-stepped. An elbow strike followed—he barely had to move. Kensei kept up the pressure, throwing attacks relentlessly, his injured right arm moving more fluidly now.
His strikes aren't landing… but he's pushing me back.
Mercer frowned. Something was off.
Kensei's attacks weren't careless. There was intent behind them. Each movement felt planned, measured—not meant to overwhelm Mercer, but to force him into something.
Still, Mercer was faster.
"You're wasting your time," Mercer said, avoiding another punch. "What are you even trying to achieve with all these pointless swings?"
Kensei's eyes locked onto him. "Just like you said… I'll give you something to stop underestimating me with."
The words were cold.
And suddenly—
Kensei's strikes were connecting.
Only barely—just glancing blows. A brush of his knuckles against Mercer's ribs. A near-miss at his jaw. A slight tap against his shoulder. Nothing direct. Nothing strong enough to matter.
But Mercer noticed.
He's pulling his punches?
It didn't make sense. Why would Kensei avoid a full hit when he had the chance? It was contradictory.
Then it clicked.
Wait—where's the knife?
Mercer's heart lurched.
He looked up.
It was still falling—straight toward him.
Shit.
Kensei saw the realization flicker in Mercer's eyes .
Too late.
A sudden gut punch slammed into Mercer's stomach, folding him in half. "Ghkk—!"
The impact launched him backward, air leaving his lungs as he tumbled through the rubble. His vision blurred for a second, nausea twisting in his stomach.
But just as he staggered to his feet—
He saw it.
His reishi vision kicked in instinctively, and before his eyes, a wave of white light surged toward him.
But it wasn't Kensei moving.
It was something else.
Something sharp. Something cutting.
And it was coming straight at him.
Kensei caught Tachikaze in his left hand, a deadly smirk on his face.
Then, with a sharp flick of his wrist, he slashed the air.
The very atmosphere cracked.
A deadly arc of compressed wind—a crescent of invisible force—exploded toward Mercer. And it was aimed to kill.
A violent explosion erupted around Mercer, the air itself splitting apart as Kensei's attack detonated. Dust and debris filled the battlefield, shrouding the area in thick smoke.
Kensei exhaled, finally easing his stance. His gaze swept across the devastation, the scars of battle now embedded in the broken landscape.
"That should teach you not to badmouth Soul Reapers like us," he declared, turning his back on the smoldering wreckage.
He let out a small sigh. "Whelp, we've already been invaded by some angry Quincies I thought were long dead, so I hope they don't mind the mess—"
A voice cut through the haze.
"Well, what do you know? You can slash me from a safe distance and try to blow me to pieces."
Kensei froze.
His head snapped toward the smoke as a shadow emerged, striding forward through the clearing dust.
It was Mercer.
Unscathed.
The only sign of damage was the singed sleeves of his leather jacket. He crossed his arms over his chest, as if he had barely been fazed by the attack.
Kensei's breath caught in his throat.
What the hell is he?!
His air blades were strong enough to obliterate a Hollow. He had seen them slice through enemies like butter, turning them into nothing but scattered remains. Yet this man—this thing —had just walked through them like it was nothing.
Could he be…?
Mercer's voice was cold, cutting off his thoughts.
"If you think I'll stop underestimating you just because you grazed me, you've got another thing coming." His tone darkened. "A deal's a deal."
Kensei's grip on Tachikaze tightened. His fingers curled around the hilt, his mind racing. He's dangerous.
There was no telling what Mercer was—an unknown Arrancar? A Quincy with stolen Bankai? Either way, if this man ran amok in the Seireitei, it would be a disaster.
He clenched his jaw.
I have to take this risk.
Kensei exhaled sharply, his eyes burning with resolve.
"BANKAI!"
The battlefield erupted.
A storm of spiritual pressure exploded from Kensei's body, the sheer force tearing apart the ground beneath him. A hurricane of dust and wind surged outward, forcing Mercer to raise his arms to shield his face.
But Mercer didn't need his eyes.
He activated his vision.
His world shifted.
Swirling energy gathered around Kensei, but his focus honed in on a specific spot—a singular core of power, not in Kensei's body, but in his weapon.
Then, the dust settled.
Kensei stood before him, transformed.
Gone was the combat knife. In its place, Tekken Tachikaze—massive, armored knuckle blades—wrapped around his fists. The curved silver edges gleamed under the shattered light. Thick segmented purple bands coiled up his arms, encasing him in battle-forged armor. Behind him, a larger band arched over his shoulders like a war banner.
Kensei rolled his shoulders.
Mercer narrowed his eyes.
What's 'Bankai'?
What's 'Tekken Tachikaze'?
Why is he wearing that armor?
Where's the knife?
His mind pieced it together.
'This is my zanpakuto in its shikai state…'
It wasn't Kensei's body that had transformed. It was his weapon.
Mercer smirked. "Thanks for the lesson." He cracked his neck, eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Now let me show you mine."
A sickening, wet sound filled the air as Mercer's arms began to shift.
Black tendrils of biomass slithered across his limbs, twisting, contorting, reshaping. His forearms swelled, morphing into massive, grotesque Hammerfists—hulking slabs of hardened muscle and bone, built for pure devastation.
They were weapons designed to pulverize tanks, flatten entire squads of soldiers, and tear apart anything in his way.
Kensei's breath hitched.
His instincts screamed danger.
His fists trembled for a fraction of a second.
Calm down. This isn't you, Kensei.
He had survived Aizen's Hollowfication. He had survived that psychotic Arrancar brat. This is no different.
He slammed his fists together three times, the metallic ring echoing across the battlefield. Any trace of hesitation shattered.
Kensei took a step forward. "In the name of the 9th Division—and all of Soul Society—I will hold you off and finish you right here and now, EVEN IF IT COSTS ME MY LIFE!"
Their bodies tensed.
Their gazes locked.
Then—
They charged.
Kensei surged forward, Tekken Tachikaze raised.
Mercer dashed, his monstrous Hammerfists swinging forward like wrecking balls. Two forces of destruction collided.
But just before impact—
Mercer saw it.
A vision burned into his mind.
Kensei, kneeling—lifeless.
His left arm, gone.
His body, broken.
And Mercer… walking away from his corpse.
A cold dread gripped him.
His hands clenched—his Hammerfists receded. The monstrous weapons shrank back, melting into his arms as he desperately willed the transformation away.
At the same time—
Above them, a crimson aura took form.
A massive, spectral scale hovered in the sky, tipping violently to the left.
Mercer's heart pounded.
MAKE IT STOP—MAKE IT STOP—
The scale shuddered.
At the very last second—
Their fists met.
A thunderous shockwave erupted between them, the sheer force obliterating the ground beneath them. Wind blasted outward in every direction, a violent storm unleashed by their clashing strength.
And above them—
The scale tipped right.