Rows upon rows of men stood in tense silence, waiting for their new Captain. The last Kenpachi had been slaughtered, claimed by a tyrant whose name now echoed through the ranks—Zaraki. Zaraki Kenpachi. The title was his now, taken in blood.

A wide path led to the platform where the new Captain would speak. But before any speech could begin, something unusual drew every eye—a small voice, light and curious, broke the tension.

“Hmm… I guess this’ll have to do this time around…”

A small figure clung to the windowsill. A child? Pink hair in a bob cut, barely the size of a sword, her eyes danced with mischief. With surprising strength, she hauled herself up and into the room.

A black-haired squad member spotted her, panic flashing across his face. Desperate to avoid disgrace, he stepped forward, voice sharp.

“Why is there a child here?! — Beat it!”

Before he could act, she was in front of him, smiling brightly.

“Lieutenant Yachiru Kusajishi, at your service!”

He froze, unable to process it, stammering out a confused, “Huh?!”

But the little lieutenant was already on the move, racing toward the doors.

“Kenny!”

The doors burst open, slamming against the walls with force that shook the entire room. A giant strode in—spiked black hair, an eyepatch, a scar slashed across his face. Zaraki Kenpachi. He surveyed the room with a predator’s gaze, each step scattering the perfect formation of soldiers.

“I’m Squad 11 Captain — Kenpachi Zaraki!”

Yachiru clung to his shoulder, a cheerful contrast to the ferocity of the man. Together, they carved a path through the squad as he advanced.

“Listen up! I won’t ask where you’re from, what your age is, or what your personal history is like! I won’t restrict any viewpoints here, nor will I sanction any of them!”

The hall trembled under the weight of his voice. His grin bared sharp white teeth, a wolf in human form.

“There’s just one thing I want…”

His voice rose, hungry, wild.

“What I want out of you is strength! I like strong guys. I like guys who can fight!”

Silence followed, thick and heavy. No one moved. No one dared.

Then a single voice spoke.

“I feel the same way.”

A bald man stepped forward, red eye markings stark on his face. Ikkaku. His friend, Yumichika, leaned lazily on the wall, arms crossed, watching with faint amusement.

“I’ve come just as you told me to,” Ikkaku said, walking toward the Captain as the crowd parted for him.

Kenpachi’s gaze fell on him, disappointment flickering for a heartbeat—then a wide, eager grin. A challenge accepted.