After a night of dreaming about being chased and slashed by Sister Unohana, Kensei Kenzuru sprung out of bed with a carp's leap at the first hint of dawn. Glancing at Sister Unohana's still-quiet room, he slipped out of the Fourth Division barracks like a thief.
If I don't leave now, I might not get away today. The thought of Unohana's benign smile made Kensei quicken his pace.
Seeing it was still early, Kensei decided to head straight for the First Division. Old Man Yama has such a fiery temper, he's definitely up already. Even if he isn't, I can wake him up for some morning exercise. It's good for his health.
"Vice-Captain Chōjirō, you're up this early trimming the lawn for Old Man Yama?"
Spotting Vice-Captain Chōjirō Sasakibe already tending to the First Division courtyard's lawn at the entrance, Kensei walked over, patted his shoulder, and prepared to ask if the old man was awake.
Startled by the pat, Chōjirō's hand trembled, nearly dropping his shears. He stroked his thin mustache. "Ah, Lord Kensei. Visiting the Captain-Commander this early?"
"Sigh. Only a filial disciple like me would come check on the old man. Caring for the elderly living alone is my duty!" Kensei stroked his chin, looking at the early-rising Chōjirō with an air of profound wisdom. "Honestly, Chōjirō, stop serving Old Man Yama. You're busy inside and out all day for how many Kan? Why not consider supporting me to become Captain-Commander? I'll double your salary!"
"You brat! Get in here this instant!"
The First Division barracks, which had been excessively quiet for centuries past, now regularly echoed with Captain-Commander Yamamoto's roars ever since Kensei's arrival.
"Tsk. The old man's getting more impatient. His mental fortitude still needs work." Kensei shook his head in disappointment, radiating a heartache akin to frustrated hope for iron that wouldn't become steel. "I have to go now, Chōjirō. Think about my proposal."
Chōjirō Sasakibe watched Kensei's rapidly retreating back and shook his head helplessly before resuming his work.
"Dear, respected Teacher Yamamoto, your student has come specially to visit you bright and early. Why the anger?"
Old Man Yama felt Kensei's words were a weasel wishing a chicken a happy New Year. He snorted coldly, ignoring him and focusing on his calligraphy. Kensei smiled and approached the desk to see what the old man was writing so early.
"A famous blade gleams brightly, / True or false, who can discern? / Summer sunlight shines."
Kensei nodded as if appreciating the haiku Yamamoto had written, not sparing his utterly worthless praise.
"Didn't expect you to write haiku with a bit of flavor, Old Man Yama."
"You understand haiku?"
Yamamoto looked at Kensei in surprise. Could this disciple of his, whose cerebral cortex was as smooth as a baby's bottom, possibly understand haiku culture?
"Who do you look down on? I can recite haiku off the top of my head. Listen up, old man."
Feeling that his world-shaking intellect couldn't be looked down upon by an old fossil like Yamamoto, Kensei cleared his throat, ready to open the old man's eyes. Perhaps Kensei's confidence was intimidating, making Yamamoto unconsciously set down his brush, prepared to hear what masterpiece Kensei could produce.
Could it be my disciple has finally gained wisdom?
"Nattō on rice, / Sunlight blazing overhead, / Holy shit, a nuke!"
"What nonsense is this?!" Yamamoto felt his earlier thought that Kensei had gained wisdom was incredibly foolish. He punched Kensei to the ground. "If you came this early just to mock me, this teacher will have to teach you a proper lesson!"
Kensei immediately bounced up from the floor, pulled the tea box from his pocket, and respectfully presented it to Yamamoto with both hands. "Teacher, you jest. A good student like me naturally came to bring you something nice."
Taking the box and opening it for a look, Yamamoto nodded with satisfaction. At least this disciple had some filial piety. But this was Unohana's treasure; he'd asked several times without success. How did this kid get it? Yamamoto questioned Kensei suspiciously.
"Old Man Yama, yesterday I renounced the darkness for the light and became a disciple under Captain Unohana."
Having said that, Kensei demonstrated Kaidō for Yamamoto.
Old Man Yama was furious. Learning swordsmanship from Unohana would be fine, but why in the world learn something like Kaidō? Can studying medicine save the Soul Society?!
Seeing Yamamoto take off his haori, revealing his muscular physique as he started throwing warm-up punches, Kensei thought the old man was being terribly petty, resorting to violence over such a small matter.
"Confess truthfully!"
Yamamoto threw alternating left and right punches at the air. The sound of friction with the air crackled continuously, and the resulting gale blew many leaves off the trees in the courtyard—more work for poor Chōjirō.
Only after listening to Kensei's full and honest account did Yamamoto relax. He had been afraid this disciple, bewitched by Unohana's beauty, might have foolishly decided to study Kaidō, pushing his own retirement dream further away.
"While Kaidō is also important, for you, it's basically useless. You should focus your mind more on offensive methods."
Yamamoto earnestly advised Kensei, not wanting such a talented disciple to go astray. He was still counting on him to take over.
"I'd like to, but I have no ideas." Kensei scratched his head, analyzing for Yamamoto. "Look, for Hakuda, I only have Shunkō and your Ikotsu/Sōkotsu. I originally thought of innovating based on these two, but just using Shunkō and Sōkotsu simultaneously before was already too much for me. A new technique might cost me half my life! Teacher, could you bear that?"
Old Man Yama stroked his beard and nodded. Kensei was telling the truth. Those two techniques were already powerful; fusing and innovating carelessly could easily injure the body. It was understandable.
"What about your Zanpakutō?"
"Teacher, my life is hard! Since that last Jinzen, I've been eating and sleeping with my Zanpakutō, wishing I could emulate Uncle Kyōraku's methods to deepen our bond. But it's still not responding."
Kensei spread his hands, first showing his innocence, then shifting the blame to Yamamoto.
"If you want me to innovate, Teacher, you should give me some insights or hints, shouldn't you?"
Yamamoto nodded again. Kensei's previous performance easily created the illusion that he was a competent Soul Reaper, but in truth, he lacked many foundational basics. Suddenly asking him to create a new technique was indeed a bit unreasonable.
"Very well. I shall demonstrate my 'Sweeping Cut' (Nadegiri) for you. It's a technique that can be used as long as one has a blade."
Without waiting for Kensei's reaction, Yamamoto grabbed him and Shunpo'd to the training grounds. Tossing Kensei casually to the ground, the wooden staff in Yamamoto's hand disintegrated, revealing the true form of his Zanpakutō.
Yamamoto lowered his stance slightly, raised the scabbard with his left hand, and gripped the deep purple hilt with his right. Kensei only heard the sound of a blade being drawn, then saw the old man already sheathing it. Only after the hilt clicked against the scabbard did Kensei see a fissure, stretching as far as the eye could see, split the ground before Yamamoto.
"Well? Did you remember it all?"
After concealing his Zanpakutō back within the staff, Yamamoto asked Kensei calmly.
"I've already forgotten a small part."
Yamamoto was taken aback. That shouldn't be. Even if this kid couldn't perform it after one viewing, remembering such a technique after seeing it once should be simple. Then he heard Kensei add, "Now I've forgotten most of it."
"Truly forgotten?"
"Now I've forgotten all of it."
Kensei turned around, placed his hands behind his back, and assumed the expression of a peerless master shrouded in loneliness.
"I shall beat you to death today, you disgraceful disciple!"
***
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