Giyu Tomioka remained silent, but his body leaned slightly forward, his right hand likewise settling soundlessly on his sword guard.
It was the signature movement of a Water Breathing user entering combat readiness, like an undercurrent gathering beneath a calm sea.
His gaze grew even more focused than before, locking firmly onto Kirishima Bupai.
Gyomei Himejima pressed his palms together, tears flowing continuously from his tightly closed eyes like a stream that would never run dry.
He recited scriptures, his massive frame as steady as a mountain, but that weightiness now became an invisible pressure that spread throughout the council hall.
"Amitabha... conflict... is also a trial..."
His voice was low and compassionate.
Mitsuri Kanroji cupped her flushed cheeks, her eyes darting between Kirishima Bupai's handsome trench coat, his magnificent cape, and the several imposing Hashira.
She seemed somewhat at a loss, murmuring softly, "Oh my... are they going to fight? How scary... but... the new Hashira really is so cool..."
Several Hashira-level fighters standing at the pinnacle of human combat strength unleashed their auras without restraint.
Like an invisible tsunami, those auras mingled and intertwined, crashing toward the figure in the platinum-colored cape at the center of the council hall.
Even the air seemed to grow thick and heavy, and the candle flames flickered beneath that pressure.
Yet Kirishima Bupai, standing at the center of the storm, merely raised his head slightly.
His gaze was as calm as water, and under the pressure of the Hashira's powerful auras, the curve of his lips did not fade but slowly rose instead.
That faint smile finally became an undisguised, flamboyant grin.
"Hmm? Since you want to spar, come on, then!"
A low laugh spilled from his throat, subdued at first before swiftly rising.
That laughter brimmed with the pure joy of encountering powerful opponents and an absolute confidence that towered above everything.
"Haha, colleagues, you really mustn't judge by appearances!"
Kirishima Bupai's laughter gradually subsided, but his wild arrogance burned even hotter.
He slowly raised his right hand and elegantly grasped the hilt of the Nichirin Blade at his waist.
The cold, hard feel of the scabbard seemed to ignite something dormant within him.
"Since you're all so eager to see..."
Kirishima Bupai deliberately drew out his words, each carrying a heart-stopping rhythm.
"Then..."
His voice abruptly rose, sharp enough to tear through the air. "Come at me! Who's first?"
Just then, Kagaya Ubuyashiki's gentle voice sounded at precisely the right moment, carrying unquestionable authority. "Wait."
In an instant, all the taut auras faltered.
He faced Kirishima Bupai and the battle-eager Hashira. "The council hall is a place for discussing important matters, not for sparring."
"If you wish to converse through your swords, please move outside to the training ground. Only in open space can true skill be shown."
The spacious training ground lay beneath dazzling sunlight, the earth firm underfoot and the surroundings open, free of the council hall's oppressive confinement.
Even the air seemed to tremble slightly at the fierce battle about to unfold.
Kirishima Bupai stood in the middle of the grounds, his platinum-colored cape fluttering gently in the breeze, the golden character for "kill" especially glaring.
His gaze swept over every Hashira-level fighter present like a tangible blade, his lips curling into an almost provocative smile.
"Just what I had in mind."
An invisible aura spread outward, as though he were the true master of this place.
"Have you decided who's going first?"
His voice was not loud, yet it reached everyone's ears clearly, carrying an aloof indifference that seemed to look down from above. "Or..."
He paused briefly, that smile rising even more brazenly. "Will you all come at once?"
"Arrogant brat!"
Tengen Uzui was the first to lose patience. He abruptly stepped forward, one hand gripping the pair of swords at his waist, inlaid with magnificent gems.
Clang-!
With a sound, a blade slid half an inch from its sheath, giving off a piercing hum as it gleamed brilliantly in the sunlight.
"Looks like you won't understand the dignity of a Hashira until I show you what true flamboyance is!"
Before his words had faded...
Whoosh-!
Kirishima Bupai had already left an almost solid black afterimage where he stood, his actual body vanishing like a phantom.
"Too slow."
A voice so cold it held no emotion sounded as though right against his ear, instantly freezing Tengen Uzui's blood.
Tengen Uzui did not even have time to turn before he felt a bone-chilling cold at the back of his neck-the touch of a blade's spine.
At some point... Kirishima Bupai had appeared right behind him.
The guard of that not-yet-fully-drawn Nichirin Blade rested firmly against his carotid artery.
The blade glimmered with a cold, ghostly blue light, its sharp chill stinging his skin.
Yet in this movement, Kirishima Bupai had skillfully reined in his killing intent, as though it were merely a cold warning.
"You bastard-! Damn it..."
Tengen Uzui's face instantly went from astonished to livid, veins bulging on his forehead.
He had not even seen how his opponent moved or drew his blade.
For the first time in his life, death felt so close, and the Sound Breathing he took such pride in had not even had a chance to sound.
Unsurprised by his reaction, Kirishima Bupai chuckled and gave his wrist a slight flick.
Clink-!
The Nichirin Blade slid precisely into its sheath with the sound.
Without sparing the rigid Sound Hashira another glance, he turned toward Kyojuro Rengoku, who had long since been unable to contain himself. "Next."
"Mm! Nothing would please me more!" Fierce fighting spirit burned in Kyojuro Rengoku's eyes, like flames set alight.
Rengoku wasted no words, stamping his right foot forward.
Boom-!
The instant his fighting aura unfurled, searing flames coiled around his entire body, and the temperature across the training ground abruptly rose.
He drove through his feet, making the solid ground sink slightly. His crimson Nichirin Blade whistled through the air, cleaving straight toward Kirishima Bupai's head like a meteor falling from the sky.
"Flame Breathing, First Form: Unknowing Fire!"
The scorching wind from his blade rushed toward Kirishima Bupai's face, almost setting his trench coat ablaze.
Facing a strike powerful enough to melt gold and sever iron, Kirishima Bupai merely turned slightly sideways, his movement astonishingly small.
Whoosh-!
The blazing red blade swept almost against the tip of his nose, singeing a few loose strands over his forehead.
Just as the strike reached its peak and Rengoku poured all his strength into the slash.
The thumb of Kirishima Bupai's sword-holding right hand nudged the guard.
Clink...
The end of the scabbard struck diagonally upward with perfect precision, hitting the junction between Rengoku's tightly gripping wrist and the sword guard.
Clang-!!!
A metallic clash rang out, so crisp it pierced the ears.
Kyojuro Rengoku felt a sharp, violent yet strangely concentrated jolt travel through the hilt and instantly spread through his arm.
His entire right arm went numb, the web of his hand throbbed with pain, and his heavy, sturdy Nichirin Blade jerked upward uncontrollably, nearly flying out of his grasp.
"Mm, what incredible speed...?!"
Rengoku's pupils abruptly contracted. The immense recoil instantly upset his balance, forcing him to stagger half a step backward.
In a clash between experts, half a step was enough to prove fatal.
Before Rengoku could steady his unbalanced stance and gather his breathing again, Kirishima Bupai closed in as though he had teleported.
He did not even draw his blade, merely driving his left elbow like a battering ram with a deft spiraling force.
"Man!"
That lightning-fast elbow struck beneath Kyojuro Rengoku's ribs, at the core from which he generated his strength.
Pff!
Rengoku grunted as an intense stitch in his side and a feeling of his strength unraveling instantly swept through his body.
The Flame Breathing Style he had gathered abruptly dissipated like a snuffed-out flame.
His massive frame swayed, and that seemingly light elbow strike actually sent him retreating several steps before he barely managed to steady himself.
Clutching beneath his ribs, his face was filled with disbelief. For the first time, cracks of shock appeared in his burning gaze.
"Thank you for the match, Mr. Rengoku!"
Kirishima Bupai stood where he was, not even the hem of his clothes disheveled, as though he had merely brushed away an insignificant speck of dust.
Throughout the entire exchange, his feet had shifted only slightly when he turned sideways and closed in, and even his breathing remained undisturbed.
The Hashira present were utterly stunned into silence by those two moves delivered in the blink of an eye.
Before you continue