I’ll Let You Strike First

The barracks of Squad 11.

The moment Tachikawa Shin stepped into the compound, all eyes were on him. Squad 11's members, notoriously disdainful of the 4th Division, now watched him with quiet respect—or perhaps thinly veiled wariness. Clearly, they all knew why he'd come.

In the past, Squad 11 had always looked down on Squad 4 for being weaklings, medics, and non-combatants. But that didn't apply to this man—Tachikawa Shin was something else entirely.

Madarame Ikkaku was the first to emerge from the interior. Upon seeing Shin, he gave a sharp nod.

"You made it."

Shin smirked faintly. "What, were you waiting for me with bated breath?"

"The captain's inside."

Squad 11's barracks were unlike any other—barebones, brutal. Only a few rooms served as offices. The rest were dojos, open training halls, and courtyards filled with sparring equipment. The very air smelled of sweat and steel.

Ikkaku led Shin into the largest dojo. Inside, at its center, stood the most commanding figure in the room—towering at two meters tall, wild black hair spiked like a nest of thorns, his chest bare beneath a loose shihakushō, lean frame carved from muscle and scars. He didn't need to speak to radiate menace.

Zaraki Kenpachi.

At his side stood Kusajishi Yachiru and Ayasegawa Yumichika.

As Shin laid eyes on him, Zaraki turned his head—and grinned. That twisted smile curled across a face carved by violence.

"You finally showed."

Shin answered calmly, "With such a warm invitation from Captain Zaraki, how could I refuse?"

Zaraki had no interest in fighting just anyone, even if they were powerful. The Gotei 13 had no shortage of strong souls, but Shin… Shin was different. There was something in his swordplay that intrigued even the man called Kenpachi.

Yachiru strolled over to Shin, circled him twice, then broke into a cheeky grin.

"Little Shin!"

Shin: "…"

He'd heard she loved giving people nicknames—like "Baldy" and "Marble-head" for Ikkaku—so he supposed he got off light.

Zaraki stepped forward, looming over him like a mountain.

"Enough talk. You know why you're here, right?"

Shin's gaze flicked to the others in the dojo.

"I'd like Captain Zaraki to have everyone else clear the room. And close the doors."

Zaraki's eyes narrowed. "You want to do this here?"

Captain-level combat could reduce a training hall like this to rubble in seconds.

Shin smiled politely. "If you're serious about a duel, this space is enough. I've heard Squad 11 dislikes using kidō, yes?"

At that, something flared in Zaraki's eyes—something hot and eager. He cast a glance at Ikkaku.

Immediately, Ikkaku and Yumichika got to work clearing the space. In moments, the dojo's doors slammed shut.

Only four remained.

Zaraki didn't waste time with ceremony or flourish. There was one reason Shin was here.

To fight.

Outside, Squad 11 members gathered in the courtyard, waiting with baited breath. They knew their captain was about to spar with 4th Division's Third Seat, Tachikawa Shin. They wouldn't witness it, but they needed to know the result.

After all, Shin had made a name for himself—crushing Ichimaru Gin during the last inter-squad exhibition, even after Gin used Bankai. People whispered that Shin wielded captain-level power.

Still, no one here believed Zaraki would lose.

Inside, with the dojo silent and cleared, Zaraki turned to Shin. "Any other demands?"

Shin replied, tone measured, "I heard from 3rd Seat Ikkaku that you enjoy the thrill of blood and battle, Captain Zaraki. But I'm afraid today's match may disappoint you."

Zaraki's narrowed eyes pinned him.

"…What do you mean?"

Shin said, "Because I won't bleed."

Ikkaku and Yumichika had backed far off, but they heard it.

Ikkaku clenched his fist.

This kid's got balls.

Zaraki grinned, sharp and cruel.

"I don't believe you."

Shin calmly undid the front of his shihakushō, baring a toned, scarless chest. He tilted his head slightly, eyes locked on Zaraki.

"Why not test it? I'll let you strike first."

Silence.

A cold, weighty silence filled the dojo. Ikkaku and Yumichika exchanged looks.

They both knew—Shin seemed friendly. Relaxed. Gracious. But they'd seen what he said to Gin at the exhibition.

He was arrogant. Unapologetically savage.

Now, even standing before Kenpachi, he hadn't changed a bit.

Their captain—the strongest swordsman in the Gotei 13, a monster whose name was synonymous with battle—was being taunted.

Shin's voice broke the silence, calm and laced with mockery.

"Captain Zaraki, why haven't you swung yet?"

He gave a faint, lazy smile. "If one blow isn't enough, feel free to use two."

Shing—

The sound of steel unsheathing. Zaraki drew his Zanpakutō.

It was long, brutal, serrated from years of battle, more like a slaughter blade than a sword.

He placed it against Shin's neck.

"You're interesting," Zaraki muttered. "Think you'll kill me today?"

Shin smiled lightly. "Captain, I'm afraid you're exaggerating. This is just a friendly spar. I've got work to do back at Squad 4."

"No."

Zaraki's voice was gravel and violence. His eyes bored into Shin's.

"Only one of us walks out that door standing."

Shin sighed faintly.

"So, Captain… are you going to swing or not?"

The moment the words left his mouth—

BOOM.

Zaraki's reiryoku exploded outward, feral and unrestrained. It roared like a beast unchained, whipping through the room. Shin's uniform flapped violently in the wind. The wooden floor cracked under the pressure.

Then—

SHRRAAAANG—!

A blinding arc of steel came crashing down on Shin's head.