Fairy Tail: Shinigami

Chapter 229: We have Gojo at Home..

If you want to read ahead go to /cornbringer

Right now I'm on chapter 211 in Patreôn

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[Third Person. POV.]

[Rukongai.]

The sky over the Rukongai gradually darkened, revealing a sea of stars painting the vast expanse above. Adam, now in the outskirts of one of the districts, found himself in a clearing surrounded by abandoned builds. The stillness of the night, broken only by the sound of his heavy breathing and the rustle of debris underfoot.

Fourteen hours before Rukia's execution.

With the few hours he had left, training was paramount in his mind. The execution was drawing near, and he wasn't about to face that immense power unprepared, not again.

He closed his eyes, summoning the memories of his confrontation with Captain Yamamoto. The all-consuming heat, the intensity, the sheer overpowering force of the old man's reiatsu. Even now, he could still feel the burn of those flames, the force that decimated his spatial control like it was child's play.

Every move Adam had made, every spatial shift and distortion, was effortlessly countered by Yamamoto. It felt like battling a force of nature; a monster that he was ill-equipped to face. Zanryuzuki's capabilities, which once seemed invincible, were rendered useless faster than he could've imagined. The vast space he could control, which once felt boundless, was obliterated in an instant.

His strength, his power, everything had been overshadowed by that old man.

Adam gritted his teeth. He wouldn't be bested again. He wouldn't be made to feel weak. Not by Yamamoto, not by anyone.

But how?

An idea began to form, sparked by the memory of his failure. What if he had been approaching Zanryuzuki's powers all wrong?

All of his life, his opponents had been weaker than him, so change was never a necessity. So, what if…. Instead of attempting to control large areas of space, what if he focused, condensed his power to a smaller area?

Like a magnifying glass focusing sunlight, the potential behind this idea was intriguing.

He recalled how, in his previous battles, he often spread Zanryuzuki's powers, covering expansive areas to manipulate and overwhelm his opponents. But now, the thought of intensifying those powers into a compact zone, particularly around himself, was compelling.

After all, one of the main problems with his fight with the old man was that his defenses had been cut down like they were nothing, paper under his blade.

He smiled at the thought, raising his remaining hand, he tried to condense the spatial energy, initially focusing it solely around his palm. There was a noticeable distortion, as if reality was warping and flexing around his fingers, as expected. But it was when he drew that power back, concentrating it even more, that he could feel a potent force emanating from that confined space.

Reflection.

His eyes widened with realization. This... this could be his way in.

The concentration of spatial energy could act as a protective barrier, or even an enhanced propulsion system. The possibilities were limitless.

He grinned at the thought. "Things are getting interesting."

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[Adam C. POV.]

[One hour before Rukia's execution.]

In the fourteen hours leading to Rukia's execution, I had focused on training. But not in order to grow stronger, in that amount of time, such a feat was beyond reasonable, but in order to grow what I already had.

I was strong.

I just needed to adapt.

So, that's just what I did.

I adapted.

Creating, in record time might I add, a new technique. Infinity.

Infinity was the convergence of an immeasurable series of condensed layers of space, which makes anything that approached me slow down.

I'll admit, I had taken a page out of Gojo's book. Unfortunately, unlike Gojo, I couldn't keep my version of the technique active for a long period of time.

Using the technique was incredibly taxing, both mentally and spiritually speaking, more so than I ever imagined. Limiting the use of the technique to no more than sixty consecutive seconds.

The good part of this was, that because during those sixty seconds I would literally be covered in layers of space, I could expand them at will, which would make my attacks heavily unpredictable.

Not that I expected the old man to fall for those. But, he would be in for a surprise, that's for sure.

"I wonder, if Orihime can't heal my arm, should I get a hook?" I pondered, trying to make light of the situation.

The truth was, that I could feel the weight of the upcoming battle pressing down on me, a mixture of anxiety and excitement coiling tight in my chest. Every minute, every second, brought me closer to that fateful moment.

I could hardly wait, and that scared me a bit. I was excited to fight a man who had almost killed me, burning me to crisp, and mutilated me. How crazy was that?

I chuckled, as my thoughts shifted back to Yamamoto. That old man, with his vast experience and unmatched strength, had shown me a crucial lesson. It wasn't about having the most power, but knowing how to use it effectively. Raw strength was truly meaningless if it couldn't be harnessed.

Before that day, I thought I understood the limits of my power, but that goes to show, you never stop learning.

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[Third Person. POV.]

[First Division.]

In the grand hall of the 1st Division headquarters, Captain Yamamoto sat at his desk, surrounded by scrolls, parchments, and just one cup of tea. His expression was calm, yet there was an intensity in his eyes that betrayed his anticipation.

His lieutenant, Chōjirō Sasakibe, entered the room with a brisk stride, his formal demeanor showcasing his usual respect and professionalism. He paused before the captain, taking a moment to find the right words.

"Captain Yamamoto," Chōjirō began, a hint of hesitation in his voice. "The search parties have returned. They've found no trace of the intruder. Shall I send them out again?"

Yamamoto remained silent for a moment, his eyes fixed on a slowly burning incense stick in front of him. The soft tendrils of smoke rising from it seemed to mirror the thoughts swirling in his mind. Finally, he looked up, locking eyes with his lieutenant.

"No," he responded firmly, the depth of his voice filling the room. "There's no need."

Chōjirō blinked in surprise. "But Captain, he's a threat. If we don't find him before he strikes—"

Yamamoto raised a hand, cutting him off. "He'll come to us," the captain said confidently.

The lieutenant looked perplexed. "Why are you so certain?"

Yamamoto leaned back, his gaze distant as if remembering their confrontation. "When I fought the boy, I saw something in his eyes. It wasn't fear or anger. It was... excitement. A burning desire."

Chōjirō's brows furrowed, trying to grasp the information. After all, for him, it made no sense… to not fear the strongest shinigami? One had to be crazy!

Yamamoto continued, "The brat is powerful, yes, but raw. Unrefined. Yet, behind that inexperience, I saw the eyes of a warrior, one who craves battle, who seeks to test his mettle against the strongest."

A silence settled between them, only interrupted by the soft crackle of the burning incense.

Chōjirō finally nodded, acknowledging his captain's insight. "Then we prepare for his arrival."

Yamamoto smirked slightly, something he hadn't done in a long time. "Indeed. Let the brat come. It will be a fight to remember."