First Division, Captain's Office.
Makoto and his group stood before the desk, reporting the full details of the mission.
Yamamoto, who had declined the captains' meeting citing illness, now wore his captain's haori, its wide sleeves draping over a dark uniform. His once-jawline beard now hung long.
He leaned on his cane, listening silently.
No trace of sickness, only a stern, commanding presence, brows furrowed.
"That's the gist of it." Makoto said, closing his report book and looking up.
Yamamoto stroked his hanging beard, his frown deepening. "So."
"The enemy responsible for the deaths of over four hundred Thirteenth Division members in the Living World."
"Just two people?"
His voice was low, his eyes, half-hidden under long brows, glinting with authority that brooked no defiance.
At such a moment, only Makoto had the standing to respond.
"Yes."
"Just a new captain and a fifth-seat officer were capable of slaughtering so many Shinigami in your presence?"
Makoto replied calmly, "From the clues we found, both had mastered 'Hollowfication' through external aid."
"And another thing."
He gestured to an evidence box nearby.
Inside lay a broken reishi rod.
The tool Kensei used to seal space.
"This operation was likely under the watch of that 'external aid,' but we didn't detect their presence." Makoto said with a hint of regret.
"External aid, hm?" Yamamoto's eyes narrowed, letting the topic slide. "And the reason you couldn't capture them alive?"
"We intended to."
Makoto's voice paused.
His gaze shifted to the small figure in the room's corner.
Yamamoto's eyes followed, landing on Sōsuke, who subtly positioned Kinroku in front of him, using minor reishi suppression to minimize his presence.
Such tricks couldn't fool the two men before him.
"This child is the Sōsuke Aizen from your report?" Yamamoto looked up. "Not sending him to the Intelligence Unit for screening first?"
"No need." Makoto said with a relaxed smile. "Though we've only just met, I feel I understand this kid better than they would."
"Besides, the Intelligence Unit might struggle to handle him."
"So, I plan to keep Sōsuke close."
"And ideally, send him to Shin'ō Academy for a few years."
Yamamoto seemed surprised, glancing at Makoto, then studying the small boy, as if committing his face to memory.
The first youth to catch Makoto's attention in years.
That single look gave him some insight.
Though Sōsuke tried to conceal it, the faint reiatsu leaking out suggested a level nearing vice-captain.
Beyond that, he likely had illusion or interference abilities, masking subtle traces even in Yamamoto's presence.
For a child his age, that was remarkable.
Yamamoto glanced at Makoto.
This kid must be lonely, too.
That solitude of standing unmatched at the world's peak.
He understood it well.
Before Makoto, no one in the Genji School had come close to him for nearly a millennium.
Even someone who could wound him was a thrilling rarity.
Such loneliness.
He sighed, shaking his head. "You're at that age where you start having these thoughts, huh?"
"???"
Makoto looked baffled.
What was this old man imagining?
"Uh, sure, as long as you get it."
"There'll be necessary oversight, of course."
Sōsuke's pupils shrank.
Kept close?!
And 'you get it'?
He looked at Makoto, recalling the earlier voice: 'Aizen-chan's the kind of boy who could be my daughter's match!'
This guy wasn't normal!
Scanning the room, neither the Captain-Commander nor the other Shinigami seemed inclined to speak for him.
Sōsuke's urgency grew.
Hailing from District 71, he'd seen the darkest sides of Rukongai and knew well what 'raising as a daughter' implied for a boy.
He could practically envision a painful future.
He stepped forward decisively. "Wait a moment!"
"Honored Shinigami."
Makoto and Yamamoto turned, all eyes on him.
Sōsuke raised his voice. "The man I killed was a criminal, wasn't he?"
Using his childlike appearance, he tilted his head, face taut, eyes brimming with restrained tears, feigning a mix of grievance and defiance, his voice trembling with suppressed fear. "That man… he killed my entire family!"
"What's wrong with taking revenge?"
"You people, deciding to lock me up without a word…"
"Sniff, I want to go home!"
His childish, seemingly impulsive words weren't meant to justify his actions.
Each sentence emphasized his status as a victim's orphan, a verbal blade aimed at their consciences.
It sounded reckless but was calculated.
Though young, Sōsuke had learned Soul Society's laws through Sosumi, knowing that in a proper trial, he couldn't be sentenced to death.
With such detailed laws, Soul Society at least outwardly valued order and rules.
He wielded a child's tone to pose a soul-deep question,
Such a small, adorable child, killing someone in their home by mistake, and you'd keep him under watch?
Doesn't your conscience ache?!
Sōsuke pursed his lips, lifting his head slightly, eyes glistening.
The silence was deafening.
But the young boy didn't yet know.
A dagger aimed at conscience only works on those who have one.
"Don't cry, Sōsuke-kun." Makoto said regretfully, patting his head. "Name a law that says we can't detain you."
"I set Soul Society's laws. If you've got legal issues, bring them up."
"I'll revise them later."
"Huh?" Sōsuke blinked.
This guy?
After such a heartfelt plea, not even a flicker of guilt?
And what's this about 'revising'?
But he reacted quickly, his face twisting in disgust, voice rising in a childish tantrum. "No way!"
"If I have to stay with Shinigami after my revenge, I'd rather be locked in prison!"
The boy's face was stern, deadly serious.
But just as he braced for harsh measures, Makoto gave a gentle smile.
"That's fine too."
Makoto bent down, pulling a long string of keys from his sleeve, jingling them before Sōsuke with a serious tone. "But I manage the prisons, you know?"
Sōsuke's expression froze.
The Ninth Division's official duty was overseeing the prison.
This guy?!
Cough!
As Sōsuke teetered on the edge of desperation, Yamamoto cleared his throat, interrupting. "Captain Makoto."
"Yes, sir." Makoto dropped his playful demeanor, adopting a serious air.
His fingers, hidden behind his back, flicked Sōsuke's forehead with a crisp thunk.
Sōsuke shuffled sideways, his face full of disdain.
This guy was the worst!
Yamamoto glanced at the indignant boy, then at Makoto.
A genius reaching vice-captain level at such an age.
If handled well, the perfect candidate for the third-generation Captain-Commander.
But Makoto's ability to mentor…
Yamamoto seriously recalled his character, behavior, hobbies, and moral standards.
After careful consideration, his weathered face tightened.
Absolutely not! This child couldn't stay by his side!!
A second Makoto in Soul Society would be a disaster.
After a moment's composure, Yamamoto said calmly, "Since the Shin'ō Academy dorms are ready, follow protocol."
"With this child's talent, he doesn't need excessive care."
"After all, he's a victim's orphan."
"We Shinigami should take responsibility."
Sōsuke's head snapped up.
Music to his ears.
Before Makoto could speak, Sōsuke dropped all pretense, loudly agreeing, "Captain-Commander! Thank you so much!"
"Hm." Yamamoto nodded calmly.
Makoto glanced at the grateful Sōsuke, then at the unruffled Yamamoto.
Old geezer!
…
As expected.
Compared to a captain, the Captain-Commander's authority was supreme!
Leaving the Captain-Commander's office, Sōsuke exhaled deeply, recalling Yamamoto's composed demeanor.
Even realizing he'd been used, he felt no resentment.
'This must be Captain-Commander Yamamoto's way of keeping Makoto in check,' he mused.
Barely waist-high, Sōsuke's mind was full of schemes, boldly hypothesizing.
'It makes sense.' He recalled tales from Rukongai, feeling it was only natural. 'Makoto's prestige, in both Rukongai and the Seireitei, is almost too great.'
'If I were Captain-Commander, I'd suppress someone like him to keep him in line.'
'And a young, exceptional talent like me is the perfect pawn!'
'With a bit of nurturing, I'd be a brilliant move.'
In moments, Sōsuke deduced his place in Yamamoto's plans.
Well.
He was wrong.
But the logic was sound!
This realization calmed him, easing the dread Makoto inspired.
Next, as long as…
As Sōsuke planned his future, an ominous shadow loomed behind him.
A chill ran down his spine.
Turning, he saw a merciless hand seize the scruff of his neck.
He wanted to protest, but seeing the figure, his voice weakened. "Captain Makoto."
"What's your business?"
The barely meter-tall Sōsuke, dangling like a kitten, pouted, glaring up unhappily.
"Entrance test!" Makoto grinned. "Let's see what you've got."
His smile was like a thief who'd stolen a prize.
Joking aside, this was young Sōsuke.
If he didn't bully him now, he'd miss his chance!
"?" Sōsuke's face stiffened.
Before he could resist, the scene shifted without a hint of wind.
Sōsuke, held by Makoto, felt a jolt of awe at his strength.
So fast.
In just two or three Shunpo, they reached an unfamiliar place.
"This is the Ninth Division's training ground. No one should be here now."
"Feel free to go all out."
Makoto tossed Sōsuke aside, grabbing a wakizashi from a nearby rack and planting it before him.
Sōsuke didn't hesitate, gripping the wakizashi, its metal tip aimed at Makoto.
Like a wary cat.
The adult-sized wakizashi was akin to an asauchi for Sōsuke. Even made of training metal, its weight was manageable.
Though a child, Makoto knew his strength could easily shatter a Gillian.
In the Shinigami world, talent defied reason.
But Makoto was the more unreasonable one here.
"First, a reiatsu test."
He smiled kindly, eyes gentle, extending a hand, palm forward. "You've been holding back your frustration, right?"
"Don't hold back."
"Strike with all you've got, right here."
"Let me feel your strength."
Sōsuke frowned, worried. "But what if I cut your hand off…"
"Don't worry."
"Impossible."
Makoto's smile didn't change.
But to Sōsuke, it suddenly felt infuriating.
Boom!
Behind the seemingly frail child, earth and stone exploded, dust rising, leaving a deep crater.
Though never trained in swordsmanship, Sōsuke had observed the Sōsukes' morning drills, memorizing basic force application.
Power surged from the ground, through knees and hips, driven by his waist, channeling his small body's strength into his arm.
To the blade's tip.
A gleaming arc sliced along the ground, like snow.
Aimed at Makoto's fingers.
The cute child's face revealed a predator's ferocity, his eyes glinting with cunning.
If you're so careless, leave a few fingers behind, Makoto-sama.
The blade struck.
His reiatsu peaked in an instant.
Ding!
A crisp sound.
Sōsuke's body and expression froze.
The blade, striking the weakest joint, stopped against Makoto's skin.
Up close, Sōsuke saw no mark on Makoto's knuckles.
"Hm, tier-5… nearly 4."
"Impressive, Sōsuke."
"Vice-captain level already."
Makoto's warm voice snapped Sōsuke out of his daze.
He stepped back instinctively.
Then remembered it was just a test.
But seeing the unscathed hand, his calm facade hid a storm of shock.
Could peak strength achieve this?
Unconsciously, he clenched his fist.
"Wait!"
Normally, Sōsuke wouldn't be so impulsive.
But whether from frustration or something else, he spoke up. "I… I have another ability."
"Can we test again?"
"Hm?" Makoto raised an eyebrow.
But seeing Sōsuke's serious expression, he nodded. "Sure."
As his words fell, Sōsuke paused, his form flickering, then charged, slashing at Makoto.
But in his own vision, the space was empty.
Sensory manipulation!
He'd mastered this power instinctively, unknown when.
Anyone slightly careless would fall prey to his illusions.
Years ago, this ability earned Sosumi's pity, making him their servant.
Unsure how long he could affect Makoto, he moved swiftly.
As the illusion formed, he crossed meters in a U-shaped path, leveling the wakizashi, aiming behind Makoto.
The blade flashed.
Swish!
A cold glint in Sōsuke's eyes.
He despised anything trying to control him!
Whoosh!
The blade cut through the figure.
And hit nothing.
Sōsuke froze mid-air, a flicker of shock in his eyes.
Makoto appeared behind him, lightly pressing the sword's hilt, the scabbard's end snapping up like a seesaw.
Straight into Sōsuke's rear.
"Seireitei Secret Technique."
"One Thousand Years of Death."
Makoto announced calmly.
Thud!
Sōsuke crashed to the ground, wakizashi falling, hands clutching his backside, face green with pain.
"You... you said this was a test!" He shouted, tears in his eyes, turning to Makoto.
Makoto remained unruffled, righteous. "This is your second lesson from your teacher."
"Soul Society is like this."
"Without strength, you can't even protect your own backside, Sōsuke!"
"Besides, I never said I wouldn't fight back."
"Damn it!" Sōsuke clutched his rear, nearly crying from rage.
The adult world was so cruel!
[Kukuku!]
[Your backside's not even worth stabbing… foolish Aizen-chan… if you want revenge, hate! Live on, grow stronger!]
[Until your backside's worthy of being stabbed!]
His zanpakuto voice was chilling.
Makoto smacked the scabbard irritably. "Shut up!"
Sōsuke's eyes widened, as if seeing a demon.
Backside training play?!
No.
He had to escape.
…
[Bond Event: What's Your Business?]
[Your bond with Sōsuke Aizen has leveled up ↑]
[Reward: Talent Point +1]
[Acquired Bond Trait: Overdraw Future]
[Bond Trait: Overdraw Future: At the cost of 100 days of future weakness, gain power beyond your current limit once. Cooldown depends on usage duration.]
[Note: All gifts of fate come with a hidden price. The backsides poked by Soul Society's godfather will one day demand repayment.]
***
Bonus Chapter:
100 Power Stones = 1 BC
300 Power Stones = 2 BC
500 Power Stones = 3 BC
700 Power Stones = 4 BC
1000 Power Stones = 5 BC
***
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