Chapter 242: The Strongest Healing Type Zanpakuto In The Soul Society

As the captains observing the battle exchanged words, the training grounds grew increasingly chaotic and brutal.

Nearly every Eleventh Division member had already been healed by Makoto once and rejoined the fray for a second round. Among them, Ikkaku Madarame, driven by sheer excitement, had charged into his fourth round of combat!

Three bouts of severe injuries had not dampened Ikkaku's enthusiasm. Instead, after every recovery, he would turn to Makoto, flash him a thumbs-up, and hurl himself at Zaraki once again.

It was as if Ikkaku were dancing between the realms of Soul Society and Hell. Even the Gates of Hell would likely be baffled by the constant flickering of his presence at their threshold.

The bloodshed painted every crevice of the training grounds, and Zaraki himself looked like a savage beast, emerging drenched in the blood of countless foes.

Despite the carnage, Zaraki showed no signs of stopping. His spiritual pressure only grew more unstable and terrifying, exuding a presence that alarmed even Kyōraku, whose sharp gaze flickered with unease.

"The Gotei 13 already struggles to manage the uncontrollable Original Kenpachi... having another rampaging beast like this would be disastrous."

In an instant, Kyoraku appeared in front of Zaraki, his tone casual yet laced with authority.

"That's enough, Captain Zaraki. If this continues, even if their bodies can be healed by Vice-captain Senju, their spirits will be pushed to the breaking point."

"Hm?!"

Zaraki tilted his bloodied head slightly, his gaze bearing down on Kyoraku with a mix of disdain and challenge, like a beast sizing up its next prey.

"As long as enemies stand before me, why should my blade ever stop swinging?"

Kyoraku responded calmly, "But these aren't enemies—they're your subordinates."

That remark gave Zaraki pause. He glanced around at the Eleventh Division members surrounding him.

What greeted him were countless pairs of eyes filled with admiration and reverence.

This was absolute submission to Zaraki's strength, an unshakable recognition of their captain as "Kenpachi."

"They're not enemies..."

Zaraki mulled over the words, then let out an enigmatic smile. Hoisting his Zanpakutō onto his shoulder, he declared:

"That's it for today. If you brats can't satisfy me next time, I'll cut you all down without mercy!"

"Yes, Captain Zaraki!!!"

The exhausted yet exhilarated voices of the Eleventh Division echoed in unison, reverberating across the training grounds.

With Zaraki's retreat, Makoto quickly completed the remaining treatments. This earned him a flood of respectful and grateful glances from the Eleventh Division members.

While the Eleventh Division gloried in battle and fearlessly faced death, they certainly didn't want to die. Makoto's extraordinary healing abilities made him a hero among them.

By the time Makoto left the Eleventh Division, he was escorted several hundred meters by over a hundred muscular, bloodied men, all cheering him on like an army of devoted fans.

This grotesque yet awe-inspiring training session soon became the talk of the Seireitei.

The legend of Zaraki, the "Beast," was etched even deeper into the hearts of the Shinigami.

But equally notable was Makoto's feat of preserving the lives of every Eleventh Division member. Using only his Zanpakutō, Shinro Bansho, he ensured that not a single soul perished.

Makoto's miraculous healing ability left the entire Seireitei in awe. For the first time, his name resounded through the Soul Society—not as Unohana's disciple, nor as someone embroiled in political scandals or abduction incidents, but solely as Senju Makoto.

Word began to spread that Shinro Bansho might be the strongest healing-type Zanpakutō in the Soul Society.

Makoto, with his cautious nature, tried to suppress such rumors, but the fervent admiration of his new "fans" made it impossible. Noblewomen, with little to occupy their time, eagerly spread tales of Makoto's exploits, further solidifying his reputation.

Before long, nobles seeking treatment flocked to the Fourth Division in droves, overwhelming the squad with patients. On the bright side, the generous donations from the nobility greatly bolstered the Fourth Division's finances.

Aoki Risa, now managing the division's budget, couldn't stop smiling at their newfound wealth.

However, this newfound fame wasn't without its challenges.

When Ayasegawa returned from a campaign to eliminate rogue's, his expression was ashen.

Upon receiving the Fourth Division's treatment bill, his trembling hands struggled to count the endless zeros on the invoice.

The next moment, with a strangled cry, Ayasegawa stormed into Zaraki's office, slamming the bill onto his captain's desk.

"Captain! Please tell me this bill isn't real!"

"What's this?" Zaraki glanced at the document indifferently.

"This!" Ayasegawa's eyes reddened as he pointed to the invoice. "The fees for hiring Makoto to provide treatment for the entire division during our training!"

"Oh, that?" Zaraki scratched his head, then turned to Yachiru, who was playing nearby.

"Yachiru, when's the next time we can get that brat Makoto to come by? Having him around makes the fights a lot more fun."

Yachiru's eyes lit up. "No problem, Ken-chan! I'll go find Makoto-nii right away!"

At that moment, a desperate wail echoed through the office.

Ayasegawa clung to Zaraki's leg, tears streaming down his face.

"Captain! This bill covers 1,300 severe injury treatments! The division's budget is about to collapse!"

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