Bleach: Cero Devastador

The underground stadium echoed with jeers and cheers as the two fighters stepped into the ring. The air was thick with smoke and the scent of sweat, the dim lighting casting ominous shadows on the cracked walls. Money exchanged hands as bets were shouted, the crowd hungry for blood.

This was the Rokungai.

Ryoma entered the Kidō barrier with his usual swagger, katana resting lazily on his shoulder. His hundred-fight undefeated streak had made him a legend, but it was his cocky grin and the way he toyed with his opponents that fueled both admiration and disdain.

'What he does is not swordsmanship!' Those posh duelists would complain.

Across the ring stood Kikaku Benimaru, the district champion. His club was worn and chipped, a testament to years of hard-fought battles. His eyes burned with determination—and hatred.

"You've climbed too high, too fast," Benimaru growled, his voice cutting through the noise. "Tonight you fall, Kamishiro"

Ryoma chuckled, brushing a hand through his hair. "Bold words for a man with a weapon that looks like it belongs in a museum. If there is something I abhor is a man who doesn't take care of his blade"

"This ain't no blade, this will crush you, boy!"

The referee's hand dropped, and the fight began. Benimaru lunged immediately, his club a blur as he closed the distance. Ryoma sidestepped with a smirk, deflecting the strike with a flick of his katana's scabbard to add salt to the insult. He retaliated with a low kick aimed at Benimaru's shin. The unexpected move connected.

*BAANG!*

It was then that Ryoma witnessed the first difference in strength between those inside and outside the inner districts. Although he hadn't used all his strength, such a strike would have easily knocked down other opponents. Benimaru did stumble but he regained his footing just in time to block Ryoma's follow-up slash.

The two fighters danced across the ring, sword and club clashing in a symphony of steel amidst the cheers with waves of power rocking within the barrier. Keen eyes stared at Ryoma's sword.

At first, Benimaru held his own, matching Ryoma's strikes with precision... no doubt the strongest non-shinigami Ryoma had faced. The crowd roared as he managed to land a shallow cut on Ryoma's shoulder. However, it didn't reach the skin, it only tore Ryoma's outfit, much to Sakuya's anger as she'd have to make a new one... yet again. 

"You're not bad," Ryoma said, rolling his arm as if shaking off the unexisting sting.

"But I can see right through you. You won't ever be fast enough"

"Shut it, bozzo! You haven't shown me anything special, where is Kamishiro Inuzuri!?"

Benimaru ignored the taunt, charging again. This time, Ryoma didn't meet him head-on. Instead, he ducked under the swing, closing the gap with a sharp elbow to Benimaru's ribs. The district champion gasped, but before he could react, Ryoma delivered a brutal knee to his stomach, sending him reeling against the barrier.

*BAANG!*

"Rule number one," Ryoma quipped, stepping back with a flourish of his blade. "Never rely on just your weapon."

As he said so, his eyes settled in one dark corner of the stadium where a certain white-haired woman was watching with a broad smile, 'You don't want to show all your cards, huh? Or maybe Benimaru is not strong enough for you to do so... Kamishiro Ryōma, even when this cautious you have already exposed yourself to me. You are the one I'm looking for tonight'.

Benimaru grimaced, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth. He steadied himself, his grip tightening on his club that was now missing a few of its sharp teeth, in a horrid state. Ryoma, however, seemed completely at ease, almost bored.

The champion charged again, his swings growing more desperate. Ryoma weaved through them with infuriating ease, his movements unorthodox and unpredictable. A quick feint with his katana turned into a spinning kick that caught Benimaru across the jaw. The champion staggered again, feeling as if every strike was like a boulder smashing against him. He wondered how Inuzuri could rock such power with such a feeble-looking body; he continued to swing wildly, hoping to catch Ryoma off guard.

Instead, Ryoma ducked low, sweeping Benimaru's legs out from under him.

The crowd erupted as Benimaru hit the ground. They couldn't believe the man they had witnessed defeat countless, was now in a completely helpless state before a 'youngster' a rookie on the road to stardom. He scrambled to his feet, barely managing to block Ryoma's next strike. But the arrogance in Ryoma's movements was gone—now, he was relentless.

The insult was even greater as with every strike, Ryoma's eyes were not settled on him but instead on something far away. Something more important.

"Look at me as you fight me, bastard– ugh!".

Ryōma slashed and struck with calculated ferocity, every attack designed to exploit Benimaru's faltering defences without necessarily portraying an unbelievable amount of skill... only incredible control and experience. 

'He is strong' Kukaku Shiba commented inwardly with a smile, she could almost smell the money even if to her it wasn't that important.

'He fights like he's been doing so since he was a kid'.

Benimaru swung high, aiming for Ryoma's neck. Ryoma ducked, closing the distance in a flash. He slammed the hilt of his katana into Benimaru's gut, forcing the air from his lungs. Before Benimaru could recover, Ryoma spun, delivering a roundhouse kick to his side that sent him crashing once again against the barrier, the power behind that kick so vast that the barrier cracked upon impact.

!!!

"You're predictable," Ryoma said, his voice cold. "You people's so-called swordsmanship is just a load of predictable shit. All those years with that old club, and you never learned to adapt."

Benimaru coughed blood and struggled to stand up in disbelief; the grip on his club was shaking now. He charged one last time, desperation fueling his movements. Ryoma met him head-on, parrying the strike with ease. Then he delivered a flurry of blows—punches, kicks, and slashes that left Benimaru completely overwhelmed.

"You're just as disappointing as the rest, get away from this ring, trash".

A sharp kick to the chest sent the district champion sprawling towards the cracked spot of the barrier. 

*BAANGG!*

The barrier shattered upon impact and Benimaru crashed against the stands with an explosion. The place he landed? Right next to a certain white-haired woman with dark skin. She licked her lips and tapped her fingers on her beautiful countenance. Benimaru didn't stand up after that, he was out cold and away from the scene. 

The protagonist of the show was now Kamishiro Ryōma, and his eyes were settled on the one he truly wished to fight tonight.

He walked slowly in front of a silent stadium until he arrived next to Benimaru. Ryoma stood over him, his blade pointed at Benimaru's throat all in front of the thrilled Kurotora. The crowd fell silent, the weight of the moment pressing down on everyone. Ryoma smirked, spinning his katana once before sheathing it.

"Stay in your lane," he said, turning away as the crowd erupted in cheers and groans.

Benimaru lay there, bloodied and defeated, having received mercy from an unwanted opponent all in front of the person he least wanted to witness this facette of his. 

"S-Sorry, ugh... Shihōin-sama... I w-wasn't able to do anything to him".

The woman ignored him, her eyes were settled on that departing back. Ryoma took Sakuya's hand and went back to his spot to wait for the stadium to get cleaned, the barrier re-shaped and maybe he'd even get a massage before the next fight.

"Hahaha, what can I say? This was supposed to be a mere investigation but... Kamishiro Ryōma, you had to go and make it into something personal, huh?~"

*RUMBLE!*

Powerful reiatsu dawned on everyone's shoulders, the power so much so that it forced Ryoma to turn around to stare at her. She would never allow him to ignore her.

"I will crush you~".