"Aizen, just like you predicted—some members of the Four Noble Houses really are behind this."
On their way back to the dorms, Akira recounted how he had tested the leader of the black-robed strike team before annihilating the Shinigami sent to eliminate them.
"Brother, why do you think the Head-Captain and Captain Ukitake came to see us?"
When Aizen heard this, there was no surprise in his expression. His eyes, calm and composed, reflected only confirmation—as if he had anticipated it from the very beginning.
"Because neither of them revealed their true intent. From start to finish, not even a hint," Aizen said evenly.
Akira narrowed his eyes slightly, thoughtful. He didn't believe for a second that an attack on two first-year Academy students would be enough to warrant the personal appearance of Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni, founder of the Gotei 13, and the commander of all thirteen divisions. This wasn't a rescue. It was a premeditated appearance, carefully timed. The attack merely served as a convenient excuse.
"It seems that after tonight, in addition to the Four Noble Houses, we've attracted another dangerous observer."
Aizen's lips curled faintly in amusement.
"Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni," Akira replied, his tone carrying certainty.
"At first, he probably viewed us with the same admiration that led him to take in Shunsui Kyōraku and Jūshirō Ukitake—his two most gifted disciples in the last few centuries. But something changed."
Akira's tone darkened slightly.
"I visited the Central Archive at the Spiritual Arts Academy earlier today. There's a biography of Yamamoto that details many of his feats over the last two thousand years—including his founding of the Academy itself, which was originally meant to stabilize the chaos of Soul Society through trained, regulated power."
He paused, then added with calm gravity:
"Yamamoto today is not the same man he was when he earned the title of 'Flame Emperor'. Now, he's a man restrained by law—by rules he created. Like Ryūjin Jakka, the most powerful Zanpakutō in existence, sheathed in a scabbard forged of discipline. Unless someone dares to challenge those rules, she remains just a symbol—a crutch, not a sword."
Aizen's face remained as calm as moonlight on water. Even as he spoke of being targeted by the strongest Shinigami in recorded history, there was no fear in his tone. Not even concern.
"In essence, Yamamoto fears that you and I will become variables—capable of destabilizing the very system he built. That's why the assassination team was sent, and that's why he's changed his approach. Instead of acting openly, he's chosen to monitor us. Quiet surveillance cloaked as tolerance."
He gave a cold chuckle.
"But that kind of behavior doesn't suit the so-called strongest Shinigami in a thousand years."
"The strong should shape the rules—not be chained by them."
Aizen's words were casual, almost amused, but a dangerous intelligence gleamed behind them.
"It doesn't matter."
"Yamamoto's approval, his suspicion—it's irrelevant. You and I were never meant to stand beneath anyone."
"This isn't mere willpower. It's not ambition. It's reality—a fact. And facts don't change because of the opinions or fears of any one man. Not even the man who holds Ryūjin Jakka."
Akira smiled then, a quiet, confident smile, overflowing with an indomitable Haki, a spiritual pressure not of force, but of inevitability.
In the Soul Society, to be invited as a direct disciple of Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni was considered the highest honor. A recognition rarely given, and only to those of truly exceptional caliber.
But in Akira's eyes?
It wasn't even worth considering.
He didn't need a teacher to climb the mountain.
The abilities he sought were not imparted—they awakened on their own. Like when he first arrived in this world, barely grasping a sword, yet instinctively walking the Way of the Blade. Each swing cultivated technique. Each cut sharpened truth.
And now?
After skimming through the Kidō Encyclopedia earlier that day, he didn't even consciously learn Hadō or Bakudō. His body—his Reiatsu—began assimilating them by instinct. As if even the ancient spells were drawn to him, embedding themselves into his soul.
Reaching the summit of Shinigami power was not a matter of "if."
It was only a matter of when.
And Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni watching from the shadows?
Akira couldn't be bothered to care.
His power was not for display.
It was for transcendence.
Zanpakutō, Kidō, and Kendō—each one a cornerstone of Shinigami power—had reached formidable levels in Akira's hands. Offensive, defensive, and reactive, his techniques were already evolving toward a state of harmony and dominance. If Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni dared to act first, it would only trigger the explosive progression of their powers—unstoppable momentum that would shatter every obstacle one by one. Just like Kurosaki Ichigo, who broke through restrictions time and again, clawing his way up against the world's will.
And unlike Ichigo, Akira was not alone.
He had a younger brother beside him—a man who could force even a king into check.
"That's only natural," Aizen replied calmly.
He didn't require a teacher. Even through self-study alone, he held the confidence to ascend to the pinnacle of the Shinigami world. Admission into the Spiritual Arts Academy wasn't a necessity for him—only a matter of efficiency.
The difference lay in how fast the future would arrive.
Enrolling in the Academy merely compressed time. It accelerated the inevitable.
"This setup actually isn't bad," Aizen added, hands tucked behind his back.
"With the most powerful Shinigami of the millennium personally watching over us… it's surprisingly convenient."
"Wouldn't you agree?"
Akira cast a glance at the Zanpakutō at Aizen's hip.
Aizen followed his brother's gaze, resting his eyes on Kyōka Suigetsu.
His brows twitched for a moment.
Then came a subtle smile of understanding.
That Zanpakutō—chosen by the Spirit King's personal guard himself.
Its illusion had already begun to blur perception and truth.
Who would dare to question the vision of Ōetsu Nimaiya, the creator of Zanpakutō?
Who would challenge the silent confession made through steel and soul?
Tsunayashiro Residence.
"Trash."
"I gave you two fully armed Hunter Squads, and this is what I get?"
"You let them all die? Not even one of the Akira brothers captured? Not even Aizen?"
A black-robed figure was hurled across the marble threshold of the noble estate, slamming into a stone pillar near the gate. Blood trickled from his scalp, but he forced himself to kneel, dragging his mangled body back into the great hall, his forehead pressed to the floor before Tsunayashiro Tokinada, head of the Tsunayashiro Clan—one of the Four Great Noble Houses.
"Master Tokinada, forgive me!"
"Although Brother Akira had only enrolled in the Spiritual Arts Academy for a single day, his Reiatsu was already comparable to a Gotei 13 Captain. He's mastered Shikai, and his combat instincts are monstrous."
"To deal with them, I crafted a precise assassination strategy. It was designed to take down even a Lieutenant-level Shinigami instantly. In fact, if caught off guard, even a Captain would sustain injuries. The only explanation is that they've both surpassed the Lieutenant class entirely!"
The black-robed assassin trembled, his hands flat on the blood-streaked floor.
"Hadō #54: Haien."
Tokinada didn't even blink.
A swirling disc of violet flame erupted from his palm, striking the assassin's face point-blank. With a sharp hiss, flesh and skull were vaporized. No time to scream. Nothing remained but black ash—erased.
"Lord Tokinada, shall I go in their place?"
Another voice emerged from the shadows, elegant and composed.
A man stepped forward, clothed in white with gold trim—a ceremonial robe worn only by those of noble lineage or high academic authority. A distinctive white cap sat atop his head, signifying his rank within the Academy.
It was Yamada Seinosuke, General Representative of the Shino Academy's Special Affairs Department.
"I've tracked down the remaining elite from the Onmitsukidō killer unit you requested," he continued smoothly.
"Wouldn't now be the perfect chance to test them—on the Akira brothers?"
Tokinada's brows lifted slightly. Tempting.
But he reined himself in.
"No."
"Genryūsai and Ukitake have already intervened. They may appear passive, but both are still pursuing the incident in secret."
"If we push now, it'll only confirm their suspicions. I don't intend to be locked up in Muken for the next few centuries."
He waved his hand, and Seinosuke withdrew with a slight bow, vanishing into the corridor's darkness.
For now, caution would hold the reins.
But the Akira brothers would not escape his web forever.