Kensei Kenzuru enjoyed a rare few days of leisure, free from sparring with Captain-level figures. He presumed Captain-Commander Yamamoto wanted him to first complete the academy's basic curriculum. Even advanced techniques in Zanjutsu, Hakuda, Hohō, and Kidō required a solid grasp of the fundamentals first. It was like advanced mathematics; no one started with it; everyone built upon a foundation laid in childhood.
"Sōsuke, do you know how a Shinigami can remain undefeated in battle?"
Kensei lifted his head at a 45-degree angle to gaze at the sky, placed his hands behind his back, and spoke with an air of mystery.
"A Shinigami's battle ultimately comes down to a battle of spiritual pressure. The gap in Reiatsu is not a chasm that can be easily bridged."
Aizen, flipping through a textbook, answered casually. The level of spiritual pressure directly impacted a Shinigami's combat power. Once the Reiatsu difference reached two or three grades, the situation became completely one-sided. If the gap widened further, a weaker spirit might directly disintegrate into spiritual particles under the impact of intense Reiatsu.
"You're wrong, Sōsuke!"
Kensei wagged his right index finger in front of Aizen, wearing the expression of one who had grasped a profound truth.
"It's about style, understand? Like someone as handsome as me—if I were to fight that old geezer Inoue Toshiki, as long as I spout some cool, badass one-liners, I could definitely crush him easily!"
Looking at the original series, didn't Kurosaki Ichigo, besides having high stats, always have a new, insanely cool form every time he won? Things like his Hollow mask, his Horned form, Mugetsu, and so on. Even if he himself was strong now, what if his Zanpakutō's Shikai or Bankai wasn't cool enough?
"Sōsuke, you've got to help me develop a Bankai that's both powerful and stylish."
Flipping a silent eye-roll, Aizen turned to the next page and continued studying, treating Kensei's words as mere nonsense. The formation of a Zanpakutō was intrinsically linked to one's own soul. How could an outsider help with that?
"By the way, where did you get your Asauchi?"
Normally, Asauchi were temporarily issued to these prospective Shinigami upon enrollment. However, due to Kensei being such an anomaly, that had been delayed, but it had been completed by now. Unless one achieved Shikai while still a student, these Asauchi were considered on loan from the academy.
"I found it on the road."
Kensei gave Aizen a look of utter disdain. Couldn't you at least come up with a more plausible excuse? If I believed that, wouldn't it make my IQ seem incredibly low?
"When will you show me your Shikai?"
The fingers Aizen used to turn the page paused slightly before he shook his head, expression unchanged.
"I can't show you."
Kensei curled his lip, thinking, It's best if you never show me.
"Captain-Commander, the Captains of all divisions, except for the 2nd Division, have assembled."
Setting down his calligraphy brush, Yamamoto stood up, draped the white Captain's haori with the "一" (ichi) character hanging nearby over his shoulders, and walked towards the large room used for Captain meetings. Scanning the faces of the serious Captains, Yamamoto gave an almost imperceptible nod. Though it couldn't compare to the Gotei 13's founding days, none of the Captains had slackened in their training.
When his gaze landed on the 2nd Division's position, Yamamoto's brow furrowed. The one present was the 2nd Division's Vice-Captain—Ōmaeda Nozomishin. While the Captaincy of the 2nd Division was hereditary within the main Shihōin family, the heir still needed sufficient strength to pass the trials and qualify. Putting a weakling in charge wouldn't command respect, let alone allow them to perform the division's primary duty of overseeing the Onmitsukidō.
"Vice-Captain Ōmaeda, upon your return, ensure you diligently urge the Shihōin young master to assume his Captain duties as soon as possible."
"Yes, sir!"
Ōmaeda, singled out by Old Man Yamamoto, broke into a cold sweat and hurriedly acknowledged the order. Even if he couldn't control the young mistress, he couldn't contradict the Captain-Commander, or else this fine body of his would be pounded into the ground by the old man.
"Everyone, the riots in the Rukongai are growing increasingly severe, yet the Central 46 has consistently delayed issuing orders to quell them. I believe you all understand what this signifies."
Everyone could hear the anger beneath Yamamoto's calm words. After all, the Central 46 was truly underhanded. Their current authority was already immense, their decrees even the Captain-Commander could not disobey. Now they were meddling in the Rukongai as well—weren't they forcing the Captain-Commander's hand?
"Henceforth, a special unit under the 1st Division is established. Captain Kitajima Hanta of the 3rd Division and Captain Shirakura Shin'ichirō of the 7th Division, you two will select seated officers from your divisions to temporarily serve as deputy commanders of this unit. As for the overall commander..."
Yamamoto turned his gaze to the Captain of the 6th Division, Kuchiki Ginrei. Looking at his old friend, now white-haired and deeply wrinkled, Yamamoto sighed inwardly.
"Ginrei, is your son-in-law currently occupied with any tasks?"
"In reply, Captain-Commander, the Kuchiki clan is always willing to contribute our share to the stability of the Soul Society."
As the head of the Kuchiki family, the face of the Four Great Noble Houses, Kuchiki Ginrei would never allow anyone to challenge the Soul Society's order through war and chaos. He would need to properly instruct Kuchiki Kōga upon his return.
Receiving the affirmative reply, Yamamoto stroked his beard. With that, the matter was settled for now. The combat power of three Captain-level figures should be sufficient to handle most internal situations. Kuchiki Ginrei's son-in-law was a talented man; his Zanpakutō's ability would pose a significant threat in large-scale conflicts.
"Teacher, I heard you've taken on a new student?"
Sensing the atmosphere in the room relax slightly, Kyōraku Shunsui felt a bit aggrieved. Weren't he and Ukitake supposed to be the last disciples? How come, after a few hundred years, a new disciple had appeared? Although he heard this junior apprentice brother had astonishing talent, he himself had been called a genius back in the day.
Yamamoto was already disgusted by Kyōraku Shunsui's frivolous nature. And now, with Kensei Kenzuru appearing—seeming to surpass even Kyōraku in that regard—he saw it as retribution for his momentary lapse in judgment centuries ago when he accepted that unlucky scoundrel Kyōraku. The old man's temper was as unpredictable as a child's. Convinced Kyōraku was the source of this misfortune, Yamamoto snorted coldly, announced the meeting adjourned, and turned to leave.
Baffled by his teacher's foul mood, Kyōraku Shunsui was left dumbfounded. He turned to his dear friend Jūshirō Ukitake for help, only to be met with a look from his friend that said, 'What good deed have you done now?'
Could the old man have found out about me ditching work every day recently to go drink at the pleasure houses, leaving all the duties to little Lisa?
While Kyōraku Shunsui was mentally reviewing his recent actions that might have angered the old man, the other Captains had already left, leaving him standing there alone. Seeing this, his dear friend Jūshirō Ukitake knew Kyōraku had been up to no good lately and dragged him towards their teacher's room to apologize.
"Hey, hey, Ukitake, are you trying to get me killed?!"
Jūshirō Ukitake paid no heed to Kyōraku's theatrical performance. This wasn't the first time. At worst, he'd be sentenced to train under a waterfall for a few months—hardly a sting for someone as thick-skinned as Kyōraku.
"We pay our respects to our teacher."
The two bowed to Yamamoto, who sat with his eyes closed in meditation. Regardless, this was the teacher who had instructed them, and they respected him from the heart. Before Yamamoto could speak, urged by a look from Ukitake, Kyōraku Shunsui knelt on the floor with a thump and began confessing his crimes to Yamamoto, hoping for leniency.
Yamamoto, who had originally just been venting his annoyance on Kyōraku, listened as his good disciple listed offenses like "drinking at pleasure houses," "secretly serializing indecent novels," and "getting drunk and scribbling on the teacher's manuscripts"—all blood pressure-raising revelations—until he finally reached his boiling point.
"Worthless scoundrel!"
Furious, Yamamoto glared and roared at Kyōraku. How could someone as upright as himself have taught such a frivolous disciple? His old face was about to be utterly disgraced. The air around Yamamoto swirled into a vortex, causing his shihakushō to billow. It felt like he might bulge his muscles and teach this disgraceful creature a lesson in the next second.
Seeing his teacher react so violently, Kyōraku Shunsui was also stunned. Wasn't confession supposed to lead to leniency? Ukitake, you've doomed me!
Watching in terror as the old man's fist drew closer and closer to his face, Kyōraku Shunsui let out a final scream before being sent flying.