AOMR 30

The tension in the air was palpable. It was the smell of ozone, like a lightning bolt was about to strike from the sky. A sense of pressure slowly built, and Hero was not just being metaphorical. There was an actual sense of pressure being exerted on the world. It couldn’t be more clear that it was the old man’s power, yet so far, the duo had not moved from where they both stood.  

A dragon and a death god.  

Hero let the thought bounce around in his head for long seconds, yet for some reason, it didn’t sound all that far-fetched again. The power to reduce the most fortified city to nothing in mere minutes. Something told him that so far he had not seen what the dragon was capable of. That thought screeched to a halt.  

His identification software had finally pinged. He had seen the dragon before. He wasn’t even sure how he had forgotten something so big and obvious, but his facial recognition software had dragged it from its banks, and the image on his visor rekindled his memory.  

The image was blurry. At that point in the battle, few were brave enough to stand close enough to Leviathan. Not even him. He had seen the truth earlier than others. His prediction analysis told him Kyushu was going to sink long before any other person had considered it, so he had shifted focus.  

Relegated himself to evacuating civilians. He was one of the major reasons so many people survived Kyushu compared to original estimates. Yet even while focused on that, he had glimpsed the battle. A titan of claws, teeth, and fire crashing into Leviathan like a wrecking ball.  

Their fight had been the final death knell of the island city. Two people that had fought Endbringers basically on their own. One had killed Behemoth, while the other had fought Leviathan to a standstill in a flooded city.  

Yet the two juggernauts were still at a distance, measuring each other.  

The dragon was on all fours, most likely a Changer cape. He remembered Alexandria made a note of pulling out a man from the ocean shortly after the fight and close to where it had ended. The scales around the dragon’s neck bristled, almost like fur, as its long serpentine neck undulated, bobbing up and down, and left and right, like it was looking for an angle to strike from.  

Its claws dug deep grooves into the earth. Its wings were spread out in an intimidating display to make it look bigger, while gusts of fire left its lips with every breath, and molten ichor dripped from its open maw, making pockmarks in the ground.  

Even from this distance, the dragon looked like a perfectly crafted and muscled implement of fear and destruction. Yet the one person that it should matter to, the one person who this display was for, couldn’t look even more uninterested. The old man remained still. There was something about his posture that rattled Hero’s head.  

His body was angled. His left side, the part missing an arm, was facing the dragon. A second later, it clicked. There was still a civilian present. Hero looked between the two juggernauts and finally glimpsed a reason for the previous hesitation he had seen in the dragon, yet whatever hesitation it originally had was wavering.  

It began to growl in anger and annoyance. Its claws dug deeper furrows like it was barely holding itself back from attacking. The child in the old man’s hands was a deterrent, but for how long? And what would happen when the dragon grew too agitated? 

Some part of Hero considered leaving the child there. He could use the deterrent for however long it mattered. Every second the two were not fighting was another second for the refugees to flee faster. For barricades, barriers, and stop blocks to be put up. Yet…  

Hero looked up, searching. None of his teammates were here yet, so he asked himself: what would Doctor Mother do? He knew the answer without thinking and decided to do the exact opposite.  

He walked forward. His armored feet crushed rocks that survived the destruction and stirred up ash and slag, while he deftly avoided the greater concentrations of liquid plasma that the two juggernauts didn’t seem to care about. The dragon was the first one to show it visibly noticed him.  

One huge slitted pupil narrowed at him as it walked up. Enhanced senses then. Hero distracted himself as he focused on the old man, who didn’t seem to react even when he was right beside him. Hero hooked the massive prototype cannon to his back harness, an act that would no doubt hinder his flight. Then he stopped directly in front of the old man.  

“You’ve a civilian in your hands. Allow me.”  

He stretched out his hands, and only then did the old man turn to him. Half-lidded eyes that pierced into his soul sought the honesty in his words and must have found something because one of the many wrinkles that lined his head eased.  

Then he stretched his hand and passed the girl into Hero’s waiting grip.  

The moment the child settled into Hero’s arms in a bridal carry, whatever hesitation the dragon had held seemed to evaporate like ice in the face of the sun.  

There was a huge roar, one that exploded every single thing in its vicinity.  

Then the dragon moved.  

Hero’s eyes widened as he retreated, engaging the thrusters on his feet to fly back, however unwieldy it was to do so without the wings on his back to stabilize him.

It was fast for its size. Too fast.  

Sunlight danced off silvery scales as the dragon surged forward, a blur of raw power. Massive limbs hammered against the scorched earth, wings tucking in just enough to reduce drag. A split second later, its open maw was inches from the old man, fangs the length of a grown man’s arm gleaming with lethal intent.  

It happened almost too fast.  

Yamamoto's reaction was blistering. A simple sidestep, effortless, yet perfectly timed. The dragon's snapping jaws found nothing but empty air and shattered ground where the old man had stood a heartbeat ago.  

Then he struck.  

A backhanded slap. Uncomplicated. Devastating. 

A muted boom rang out as his palm met the side of the dragon’s head. The sheer force sent the beast careening sideways, its agonized screech lost to the wind as it tumbled through the battlefield, crashing into the distance with enough momentum to tear up slag, ash, and molten rock in its wake.  

Yamamoto exhaled, his breath steady.  

“Despite what your appearance suggests, you are not a mindless beast.” His tone was almost scholarly, like a teacher scolding a wayward student. “Do not act like one by roaring before an attack.”  

His long white beard swayed lazily in the wind, his elongated eyebrows settling quicker. Hero, who had retreated far enough to observe, stared mouth agape.  

Was the old man teaching the dragon?  

He must have been, because this time, the dragon took the lesson to heart.  

No roar. No warning.  

The ash cloud exploded outward as it launched itself forward, its silvery bulk a silent streak of destruction. Faster than before. More precise.  

But still not fast enough.  

Yamamoto blurred. One moment he was standing still, the next he was in front of the dragon. Sandaled feet came down like a hammer. The wooden soles struck the beast’s snout with crushing force, forcing its momentum to slow as it plowed into the ground, carving a deep trench of upturned earth before it finally stopped.  

“There was a time when a strike like that would have halted you entirely, not just slowed you.” Yamamoto mused, half-lidded eyes meeting the dragon’s furious, glowing glare. “You are not just muscle and scale. You are fire. Use it, whelp.”  

Hero could almost physically feel the dragon’s pride crack at the humbling.  

It roared, snapping its massive jaws open in defiance. Yamamoto lifted his foot just as the beast’s tail lashed out. A blur of silver muscle and bone.  

Another slap.  

Another explosion of force.  

Half the dragon’s tail simply ceased to exist, obliterated in an echoing sonic boom. But the dragon was learning.  

Even through the pain, even as its body reeled from the loss, it had already committed to its next move.  

A spark. A glow.  

Its throat came alive with an unnatural heat. The dragon inhaled, then exhaled, vomiting forth a sea of blue fire. So hot it stripped the battlefield of color, devouring everything in its path. A rampaging tide of annihilation.  

Then a voice rang out. “Good.”  

The praise felt hollow in a way, distant and noncommital. Then Yamamoto walked through the flames.  

The dragon choked on its own breath. It took a cautious step back, something akin to disbelief flickering in its slitted pupils.  

Yamamoto breathed in, and then he spoke.  

“But you can be better.”  

His voice was followed by an explosion. The very earth beneath them ruptured. Debris launched into the air, igniting mid-flight before slamming into the dragon, like meteors. The beast screeched in pain once more, flames licking at its own scales as the battlefield burned.

The dragon writhed as burning debris slammed into its body, each impact carving fresh wounds into its silvery hide. Its scales, once pristine, were now blackened and cracked. Smoke curled from its flesh, but still, its eyes burned with fury.  

Yamamoto stood amidst the destruction, unbothered by the heat, his half-lidded gaze steady. "You are not just fire, and power. You are not just a beast, beneath that facade and monstrous appearance, you are a man. Use the cunning that comes with such a mind"  

The dragon snarled.  

Then it vanished.  

Its massive form blurred, moving faster than before, its charred wings unfurling just enough to twist its trajectory mid-charge. Yamamoto watched, unimpressed, as the dragon reappeared above him, claws outstretched, jaws wide in silent menace.  

It struck.  

A downward swipe meant to cleave him apart. Yamamoto didn't move.  

At the last moment, he lifted a single arm, fingers curling into a fist. The dragon’s talons met flesh and stopped.  

Not because Yamamoto blocked them. Because he punched through them. It took everything Hero had in him to stop himself from blinking. That was how fast-paced the combat was and even then, he was certain he was missing things, things that hopefully his visor's camera picked up and recorded. 

A sickening crunch echoed as Yamamoto's fist shattered bone and scale alike, ripping straight through the dragon’s clawed limb. The beast howled, trying to pull back, but the old man was too fast, even with only a single arm open to him. That single, heavily scarred limb surged forward and seized the dragon's forearm.  

The size discrepancy meant that Yamamoto only managed to grip a part of the limb, but the strength discrepancy meant that was all he needed. With one sharp twist, he dislocated the dragon’s entire limb.  

A roar of agony tore from its throat, but before it could retreat, Yamamoto spun with a single, titanic motion. With his body as a fulcrum and his grip as a lever, he swung the dragon over his head and slammed it into the ground.  

The battlefield shook. The impact split the earth open, molten rock bubbling up from the depths. The dragon gasped, dazed, but Yamamoto did not let go. His hand moved again, his grip locked around the dragon's horn, and he yanked the head up, then drove his feet into its skull.  

Another crack. Another explosion of force. The dragon’s head snapped back, teeth shattering, blood spraying as it was sent skidding across the battlefield.  

Still, it tried to rise.  

Yamamoto exhaled.  

"The speed at which you heal declares that you would learn faster like this. This guidance is a result of your aid in returning Mei Mei, for whatever reasons you did such. Be thankful, for it is all you shall receive for now."  

Yamamoto turned his back on the dragon and began to walk off, back to Hero and the child he still had in his grip. His single arm sought the black of his kimono to slip it back on until something stopped him. A furious roar from a mangled throat.  

"No!"  

The word was barely recognizable, mangled as it was by a throat more suited to growls and roars than actual speech. There was a flicker of something in the old man's face as the dragon struggled to rise to its feet. Its body was battered and broken. Scales lining and decorating the ground. Its molten lifeblood feeding the earth in the droves it poured out from. Its skull cracked, its horn broken, and its eyes gouged out.  

Yet it struggled to its feet.

"Your rage has served you well," Yamamoto stated as he turned back to face the dragon. "It is the source of your power, and so it cannot be tempered. But it can be honed. Aimed. Once, I would have leashed it to my will... yet, I am no longer that man… Perhaps, whelp, you deserve this much."  

Hero watched the old man muse aloud, speaking more to himself than the dragon. More words than Hero had ever heard the Death God string together.  

Then, in a single instant, Yamamoto disappeared. 

Before the dragon could react, he reappeared in front of it. His fist crashed into the beast’s abdomen. His voice, low and gravelly, rumbled through the battlefield like a death knell.  

"Ikkotsu."  

An explosion followed.  

Dust and ash billowed outward, choking the air. The earth shuddered beneath the force of the impact. When the debris finally settled, half the dragon’s chest was simply gone. Not destroyed. Not obliterated. Gone. As if something inviolable had taken a bite out of existence itself.  

The beast collapsed, shuddering. Yamamoto stepped forward, placing his foot on the dragon’s chest, and pinning it down.  

The dragon growled, muscles twitching, but its strength was failing. Even with its immense power, even with its endless rage, it could not rise beneath the weight of the old man’s foot.  

Yamamoto leaned down, staring into its slit pupils. His next words were softer, but no less absolute.  

"You are finished. You have absorbed all that you can. It is done."  

A deep, guttural rumble built in the dragon’s throat. It bared what remained of its fangs, defiance flickering in its eyes. It inhaled, and for the first time, Hero saw plain surprise in the old man’s face as Yamamoto's eyes widened.  

"You seek not just to breathe air... but reiatsu as well."  

Hero felt it too. The shift in the air. The way the dragon's body trembled, not in pain, but in something else.  

Then, something happened. Something Hero would have called a lie if he had not seen it himself.  

Yamamoto smiled.  

"Stand up then, whelp. Prove the strength of your will and maybe one day, I will call you Kenpachi."  

There was weight in that name. Something heavy. Something vast. The dragon felt it too.  It roared. And then, it exploded. And in the midst of all that, Hero was almost certain he heard a chuckle, perhaps he would go as far as even calling it a laugh, and it wasn't a sound the dragon could make.

A/N: “There was a time when a strike like that would have halted you entirely, not just slowed you.” This quote is a reference to the fact that strength is the only thing Yamamoto has in his data book that’s less than 100, I’m guessing it’s a result of old age and loosing an arm. It’s a good thing he makes up for it with Ikkotsu and Sokotsu.