Bazzard Black.
Today, his friendship was stolen by a black-haired punk.
.
.
.
"...Tsk, nothing but bottom-feeders."
The year 1001.
Bazzard Black, commonly known as Bazz-B, stood below the platform where the Sternritter appointment ceremony was taking place, arms crossed as he surveyed his surroundings.
He saw plenty of other Quincies, but they were all trash with mediocre Reiatsu.
'To think such pathetic weaklings are becoming Sternritter alongside me. How pathetic.'
He thought arrogantly to himself, clenching his fists tight.
The days he had spent striving to become Yhwach's right-hand man felt somewhat tarnished.
But that wasn't what was important to Bazz-B right now.
'...Jugo must be here too, right?'
Jugram Haschwalth.
The name of Bazzard's long-time friend, and the man who had become a Sternritter even before him.
In the past, the village where Haschwalth and Bazzard lived was burned to the ground by the Emperor's command to build up military forces and expand territory.
Without needing to say a word, both Haschwalth and he had vowed to take revenge on Yhwach.
As they trained together, Bazzard grew faster than anyone, while Haschwalth, despite having no talent, continued to train alongside him more diligently than anyone else.
Then, two years ago. On the day Yhwach visited their village, Bazzard had arrogantly assumed he would be the one chosen by the Emperor.
He believed in his own talent and skill, and in reality, he possessed power that overwhelmed any of his peers.
Yet, the one the Emperor chose was his best friend.
It was Haschwalth—the boy who couldn't even gather Reishi properly and did nothing but repeat swordsmanship and basic physical training.
It wasn't that Bazzard looked down on Haschwalth's efforts.
It was just that the jealousy of his friend getting ahead of him had flared up before his plan to become the Emperor's confidant for revenge could even take shape.
And the sharp glare he had instinctively cast in that moment had pierced straight through Haschwalth.
He still couldn't forget the way Haschwalth's eyes had trembled back then.
'...That guy looked devastated.'
Bazzard looked down at his palm with a bitter expression.
Yhwach had mocked Bazzard, telling him that his exceptional talent and skill were actually thanks to Haschwalth's 'power-sharing ability,' and told him to be grateful to Haschwalth.
In that moment, he felt an uncontrollable rage and tried to fire a Heilig Pfeil fueled by vengeance at Yhwach, but the Reishi he tried to gather scattered helplessly at the Emperor's calm remark.
[Because you are my biological son.]
"Biological son, my foot..."
Bazzard grit his teeth.
The sound of his teeth grinding against each other echoed in his ears.
"So all that 'my son' talk he gives the others is just a total act, huh?"
A kid with thick black hair who looked innocent and a bit slow, appearing to be around the same age Bazzard was two years ago.
The name he still remembered: Ichigo.
He knew the guy was some loner living in a remote cabin, a layabout who did nothing but eat and play.
Yet, simply because he was the Emperor's biological son, that guy had skipped the line and entered the Sternritter alongside Jugo before Bazzard could.
Of course, connections, bloodlines, and favoritism existed in every era, and Bazzard was well aware of that, but he couldn't tolerate a situation where he was the one being slighted.
If Haschwalth had entered the Sternritter alone, Bazzard's jealousy would have been directed entirely at him.
However, the variable known as Ichigo had shifted the direction of Bazzard's jealousy elsewhere.
"I'll crush you, Ichigo...!"
Bazzard wanted to sincerely apologize to Haschwalth and reconcile, and he wanted to prove his own strength by defeating that parachute-hire, Ichigo.
'...I heard Jugo became the Grandmaster and that bastard became the Vice-Grandmaster.'
The story of Haschwalth and Ichigo being personally chosen by the Emperor was already famous, and news about the two reached Bazzard easily.
In just two years, the two had become the Grandmaster and Vice-Grandmaster of the Sternritter, respectively.
It was a position he couldn't dare to look down upon, but Bazz-B wasn't intimidated. Rank didn't necessarily represent skill.
"...Therefore, I hope you all continue to hone yourselves to the end for the sake of the Lichtreich. That is all."
On the platform, Hubert finished his speech with a tired look and stepped down.
Bazz-B pushed through the crowd and tracked Haschwalth's Reiatsu. He felt a familiar, nostalgic energy coming from the direction of the Knights' garden.
'...Over there!'
Bazz-B quickened his pace.
Soon, beyond the climbing rose bushes in the garden, he saw the backs of two people dressed in white uniforms.
"Hey, Jugo! It's been—"
Bazz-B's shout of greeting was drowned out by someone else's voice.
"I'm telling you, I've already perfectly mastered Ransōtengai! But to use it perfectly, I'd have to be paralyzed or something. How am I supposed to show you when I'm perfectly fine?"
"That is a sophistry, Ichigo. And how many times must I tell you to use proper titles with your superior? I am the Grandmaster, and you are the Vice-Grandmaster."
"What's the point of being friends then? I don't think it's right for a friendship to be split over a single 'Vice' prefix, you know?"
"Sigh..."
"..."
...What on earth were they talking about?
'...Friends?'
Bazzard's brow furrowed fiercely as his teeth ground together with a loud crack.
There was no way Haschwalth had any friends other than himself.
It had to be a one-sided claim from that black-haired punk.
...But why wasn't Haschwalth pushing Ichigo away?
Unable to take it anymore, Bazz-B raised his voice.
"...Hey, Jugo!!"
"...!"
The two, who had been chatting, finally looked toward Bazzard.
Haschwalth, in particular, looked completely caught off guard, his pupils trembling slightly.
"....Baz, B?"
".....Yeah, it's me. Jugo."
Bazz-B spoke slowly, suppressing the emotions boiling deep within his chest.
To deliver that one sentence he had practiced every night.
The words he desperately wanted to say, the words he couldn't say for two years.
"About back then, I'm sor—"
"Ah, so you're 'Bazz-B'?"
"?"
In the middle of the emotional reunion, a voice suddenly intruded, shattering the atmosphere into pieces.
Ichigo was leaning in with a face full of curiosity, scanning Bazz-B from head to toe.
"......"
Naturally, Bazzard also ended up scanning the guy's appearance.
A sharp jawline and eyes that were serious yet burning with intensity.
His jet-black hair, which seemed to absorb the surrounding light, gave off a calm aura.
...But why was his behavior such a mess?
"...I'm sorry, but I have something to discuss with my friend. Could you step aside?"
'I'll let it slide for now, but I'll crush you someday, Ichigo...!'
Just as Bazz-B was sharpening the blade of his anger internally while forcing a twisted smile onto his face—
Ichigo naturally draped an arm over Haschwalth's shoulder with a thud.
"I'm Haschwalth's friend too. Let's get along."
"...Ichigo, really......"
Haschwalth let out a deep sigh at Ichigo's actions.
That sigh felt less like a rejection and more like a familiar sense of resignation.
Meanwhile, the sound of a snap echoed in Bazz-B's mind as his thread of reason broke.
Jugo, who used to be his friend alone, didn't shake off Ichigo's arm; instead, he seemed to lean toward Ichigo as if he were comfortable with it.
At least, that was how it looked entirely from Bazzard's perspective.
And so, Bazzard's... long-accumulated rage finally exploded.
"You black-haired bastard!!!!"
"Whoa, hey, why?!"
As Bazzard lunged at him, Ichigo recoiled in shock and retreated using Hirenkyaku. Bazz-B followed suit, fiercely pursuing him with Hirenkyaku as well.
"Stop right there! How dare you steal Jugo's side?!"
"Hey, friends can be close! Why are you losing your mind?!"
"Who's your friend! Die!!"
The ridiculous chase between the recruit and the Vice-Grandmaster fizzled out a few minutes later after Haschwalth suppressed them both.
.
.
.
And so, time flowed on relentlessly.
The friendship that was thought to be cracked was restored even more firmly as misunderstandings were cleared, and a new bond had wedged itself in between them, joining their journey.
Then came the year 1004.
The day the war was to begin, as spoken of by Yhwach, was drawing closer and closer.
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