"A dead genius is not a genius."
"They can only catch Yamamoto Genryūsai's eye while alive—once dead, they vanish without a trace."
"Just like the original Gotei 13 captains, don't you think, Lord Kuchiki?"
Tsunayashiro Tokinada uttered Yamamoto's name without the slightest tremor in his voice. His eyes remained calm, cold, even amused.
Clearly, even a Shinigami hailed as the strongest in a thousand years did not deter Tokinada from his ambitions.
After all, the Captain-Commander was still subordinate to the Central 46. And the Central 46? What were they really?
An institution—one composed of judges, sages, and nobles.
And among all nobles in Soul Society, who stands higher than Tsunayashiro?
No one.
Not even the Kuchiki family.
"If it's truly a fragment of the Soul King, do you know what needs to be done?"
Kuchiki Ginrei said nothing in response to Tokinada's mention of the First Generation Gotei 13. That topic stirred too many shadows, too much blood.
"Of course," Tokinada continued smoothly, "the Four Noble Houses are aligned in spirit. If I obtain it, I'll share half."
"For generations, we've collaborated in secret operations—hunting down Shinigami who carried fragments of the Soul King. This isn't our first time. Why doubt me now?"
"Even if the truth leaks, I'll bear the dishonor. You, Lord Kuchiki—model of the Shinigami aristocracy—will remain spotless. Untarnished."
Tsunayashiro Tokinada narrowed his eyes, revealing a venomous confidence. The weight behind his words was terrifying in its implications.
Massacres, conspiracies, secrecy within the nobility—it was all there.
The room went silent.
The two noble lords exchanged a final, long look. Neither blinked.
Then Tokinada vanished the same way he had arrived—fading into the still air like a shadow never meant to be seen.
"A shame…" Ginrei muttered after a long pause. "My daughter is already promised to Shōsui."
"I have already granted her to him. If I kept you, Akira, there would be discord in the Shihōin alliance."
"You were simply born at the wrong time."
"If you could have married into the Kuchiki family, I would have used every resource at my disposal to protect you—even Aizen—to raise you as the second Yamamoto Genryūsai."
Kuchiki Ginrei's voice was so faint it was like ash in the wind.
At that same moment, across Seireitei…
In the First Division Captain's office, Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni sat with Jūshirō Ukitake, discussing the Akira brothers in detail.
"Created a Zanpakutō without relying on the Asauchi or formal sealing process."
"Comprehended Shikai in a single instant."
"In under ten minutes, he learned all Hadō and Bakudō below level 60—and has already begun using some in actual combat."
Even for a man as immovable as Yamamoto Genryūsai—who had witnessed the fall of kingdoms and the rise of centuries—Akira's performance stirred a ripple in his heart.
"Based on what you've told me," Yamamoto said at last, his tone laced with rare admiration, "Akira may surpass Kyōraku Shunsui."
That comparison alone was staggering.
"And not just Akira," Jūshirō added, his eyes serious. "Even Aizen is not inferior to Shunsui—possibly even stronger."
"But Aizen's brilliance is hidden beneath his brother's radiance. Overshadowed."
"Master Yamamoto… please forgive my boldness. But if you're considering taking a disciple, I advise haste."
"From what I've observed, Akira will likely master Zanjutsu, Hakuda, Hohō, and Kidō—all four pillars—in under three months. He'll graduate early from the Shinō Academy."
Yamamoto's eyes opened slightly, a rare expression of astonishment flashing across his ancient face.
"So fast?"
"Maybe faster," Ukitake affirmed with a nod.
"Then there's no time to waste."
Yamamoto rose from his seat, his haori rustling like an ancient curtain drawn back. Ukitake looked surprised.
Originally, the old Captain-Commander had only entertained the idea of mentoring. But now, hearing this, his resolve had crystallized.
He would go himself. Personally.
If he delayed, there might be nothing left to teach.
At this rate, Akira would soon eclipse even the seasoned instructors of the Shinō Academy.
"Master Yamamoto—you intend to go in person?"
"Please, allow me to bring them before you."
Yamamoto raised a hand, silencing him.
"No need."
"This old man's bones are not yet so brittle that I need help just to walk across Seireitei."
"And besides," he said, leaning on his cane—crafted from Ryūjin Jakka's sealed form—"I want to see them with my own eyes."
"Their bond. Their power. Their potential."
With that, Yamamoto walked out, slowly but purposefully.
Jūshirō Ukitake remained behind, watching him go, a slight smile tugging at his lips.
His teacher was clearly—undeniably—moved.
Akira and Aizen had accomplished something few ever could.
They had captured the interest of Yamamoto Genryūsai himself.
Only then did he decide to personally visit the Shin'ō Spiritual Arts Academy—not as a mere observer, but as the Captain-Commander of the Gotei 13.
In contrast to the past—when Shunsui Kyōraku and Jūshirō Ukitake had been discovered and escorted to Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni by First Division Shinigami—this time, the old captain would walk there himself. Back then, the academy summoned them; now, he was the one seeking a disciple.
It was a strange reversal.
Unlike before, he couldn't wait.
As if afraid that if he delayed even a moment, the one he wished to take under his wing would already have taken flight—gone, far beyond reach.
At the same time—while Yamamoto Genryūsai and Ukitake made their way toward the Shin'ō Academy—Akira and Aizen had already returned to their respective dormitories.
As top-ranked students in the advanced class, their dorms resembled small noble residences more than typical quarters—private suites equipped with independent Reiatsu wards, training rooms, and reinforced walls capable of enduring low-level Kidō.
Click.
Akira placed a hand on the handle, twisted lightly, and the door opened with a soft sound.
However—just as he lifted his foot to step inside—his eyes narrowed, and his spiritual perception instantly detected a ripple in the atmosphere.
Reiatsu… from inside the room.
He had sensed nothing just moments ago. But as soon as the door opened, the Reiatsu surged—sudden and calculated.
"Kidō barrier," Akira thought instantly.
After intensive exposure to Kidō theory and casting practice, he recognized it immediately. This wasn't a mistake or trick of the senses—it was a carefully placed concealment spell.
To the naked eye, everything appeared normal—but in truth, his dormitory had already been wrapped in a powerful Kidō field.
A trap.
At that moment, whoever was inside also sensed his return.
Before Akira could take any defensive action, bands of luminous energy surged outward. The air twisted like warped glass, as though the world itself had become a kaleidoscope.
For a split second, everything blurred—light danced like spirits, shadows bent unnaturally.
And then—silence.
The next thing he knew, the familiar architecture of his dormitory was gone.
In its place stood a desolate, greyed space—eerily empty, like the inside of a pocket dimension. The sky above was black and void-like, the ground beneath hard and textureless.
Before him stood ten figures. Each was cloaked entirely in black robes, their identities hidden. The only detail visible was the gleam of steel—their Zanpakutō hung silently at their sides or across their backs.
"Kidō: Forbidden Technique."
"A spatial transference field."
"This isn't standard Kidō… these are high-level incantations far beyond academy curriculum."
Despite the suddenness, Akira's expression remained calm, though his pupils sharpened.
In all his time in Soul Society, he had neither offended any seated officer nor developed any grudge with members of the Kidō Corps.
But Aizen's words earlier that day echoed back in his mind—an analysis delivered with chilling precision.
"The Four Great Noble Houses."
Akira's gaze turned cold.
To infiltrate the suite of a first-class Spiritual Arts Academy student without alerting the outer barrier detection? To cast high-tier Kidō without triggering the academy's alarm system?
To lay down a spatial transfer ritual without any fluctuation beforehand?
Only a few factions could accomplish that. Ordinary Shinigami couldn't even attempt it.
Even average noble clans lacked the authority, knowledge, and Kidō proficiency.
Only the Four Great Noble Houses—Kuchiki, Shihōin, Tsunayashiro, and the fallen Kasumiōji—had that kind of access to ancient Kidō scrolls and forbidden techniques.
One of them had moved against him.
Akira raised a hand and calmly began to recite:
"Bakudō #61: Rikujōkōrō—Six Rods Light Prison."
"Bakudō #62: Hyapporankan—Hundred-Stepped Fence."
"Bakudō #63: Sajō Sabaku—Locking Chain of Binding."
"Bakudō #75: Gochūtekkan—Five Pillar Iron Restraint."
"Bakudō #79: Kuyō Shibari—Nine Flash Binding."
His spiritual pressure surged as he recited Kidō after Kidō without pause, each one layering over the next like seals forged in succession.
He had no choice but to counter the unknown with absolute precision.