Impossible, What Kind of Monster Are You?

Urahara Ichiro's face darkened with anger. As he slowly drew his Asauchi, his Reiatsu grew increasingly immense, pressing the ordinary villagers to the ground until they trembled. His Asauchi was beautiful, its blade forged with slanted dark-red patterns that shimmered with a blood-colored beauty beneath the sunlight. Caution filled Urahara Ichiro's angry eyes. He was astonished that this child could withstand his Reiatsu.