Chapter 103 – 103 ⥤ Late Night Visitor

“Scorching Reiatsu…”

Szayelaporro’s elegance vanished as he broke into a cold sweat, gaining a stark understanding of Soul Society’s true terror.

He had thought Kenpachi Kuruiyashiki was frightening, but to think there were even mightier warriors!

Without even facing its owner directly, separated by thousands of kilometers, this Reiatsu’s overwhelming killing intent could crush any Menos Grande.

Including Vasto Lorde!

Not daring to be careless for even a moment, Szayelaporro abandoned his perfect test subject and used Sonído to reach the Garganta’s edge. Stepping one foot into darkness, he turned back to say:

“You’re lucky this time. Let’s hope your luck holds out. I’ll remember your name.” He stared intently at the blood-covered savage youth, enunciating each word carefully, “Sōsuke Aizen…”

Aizen: “…”

Without another moment’s hesitation, he plunged into the Garganta before the scorching Reiatsu could reach him.

Science is precious, but life is worth more.

For Szayelaporro, science was merely a path to perfection. Even if he lost this test subject, other Shinigami or Hollows could still be researched.

But lingering in Soul Society meant certain death at the hands of that Reiatsu’s owner. All signs pointed to one opponent:

The strongest Shinigami in Soul Society, Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto!

Szayelaporro couldn’t fathom why capturing a mere Shinigami youth — not even a Captain — would draw such a monster.

Had Soul Society lost its mind, or had he?

Can’t mess with that, absolutely can’t mess with that…

With these thoughts racing through his mind, he pushed his Sonído to its limit, rushing through the Garganta to escape that perilous place.

“I’m leaving too.”

Seeing the danger had passed, Aizen offered no explanation. He simply dropped those words, used Kidō to erase his Reiatsu traces, and vanished with Shunpo.

That Reiatsu was unmistakably Genryūsai’s — there was no doubt.

Though he had revealed some of his power during the graduation exam, it had been a calculated move.

After all, geniuses naturally gravitate toward each other. Many had noticed his close friendship with Akira.

Appearing entirely mediocre would have raised suspicions. By showing power within reasonable limits, everything seemed natural.

Akira was strong, so it made sense that his close friend would also be gifted. It was perfectly normal for geniuses to find common ground.

But when genius surpasses what people consider acceptable, its very existence becomes questioned — even rejected.

Aizen was reluctant to reveal himself too early in Soul Society, particularly under the Captain-Commander’s watchful eye.

He hoped that foolish Akira would grasp this and not carelessly expose him.

The thought left Aizen mentally drained.

Despite Akira’s genius far surpassing what most could accept, he had not only avoided suspicion and scrutiny but had become quite popular within the Gotei 13.

Even Unohana, not just Genryūsai, showed him special favor.

Perhaps this was the privilege of being an idiot?

Looking at Akira’s fading silhouette and the Gillian remains on the ground, he fell into contemplation.

Suddenly, an old man wreathed in terrifying flames descended from the sky. The ground blackened instantly, and the surrounding air warped from his fearsome heat.

It was like watching a star plummet to earth.

“Where is he?”

Genryūsai clutched his sword, his face twisted with killing intent — completely unlike his usual kindly demeanor. He looked every bit the gang boss ready to cut someone down.

“Gone.” Akira pointed at the slowly closing Garganta, “He sensed your divine descent, teacher, and fled in terror. He scrambled out of Soul Society on all fours, crawling and rolling away.”

Genryūsai narrowed his eyes, studying the sweating youth before him.

His instincts warned him this kid was concealing something.

“A Hollow?”

Akira wiped his sweat and nodded, “A Vasto Lorde, called something like Pink Chinchorro Granola.”

Genryūsai fell silent.

Though furious about Hollows invading Soul Society, somehow, hearing that name made him pity the enemy.

What kind of ridiculous name was that?

“Did you borrow the power of sacrifice again this time?” He had figured out his disciple’s patterns — he only had a few moves in battle.

{T/N: Not thanks to me, bald eagle.}

“Not this time.” Akira scratched his head, “Pink Chinchorro wanted to take me back as a test subject, so he wasn’t fighting to kill. After firing two Cero-like attacks, your Reiatsu scared him off.”

Genryūsai’s timing couldn’t have been better.

If he had arrived even moments later, Akira would have needed to sacrifice to Mimihagi and borrow Its power. Though he might not have defeated Szayelaporro, he could have held out for some time.

The old man remained silent, accepting this explanation for now.

He didn’t question whether Akira was hiding anything. To him, this disciple — though reckless and irritating at times — had few genuine faults. His talent was extraordinary, surpassing even Jūshirō and Shunsui.

He was sincere in his dealings with others and, most importantly, showed excellent judgment of character.

If the position of Captain-Commander hadn’t required certain strategic abilities, he would have considered grooming him for the role.

No one is perfect — what a shame.

“I understand.” After contemplating, Genryūsai spoke slowly, “The Fifth Division was away on a mission, which is why we couldn’t provide immediate assistance.”

Concerned that Akira might overthink things, he explained further.

“I came as soon as I received the report. Let other division members clean up these remains — Fourth Division and Twelfth Division might need them. As for you…” He looked his disciple up and down again.

Apart from torn clothes, there were no serious injuries — just split skin and strained muscles from overexertion. With his healing ability and skill with Kaidō, he would recover easily.

However, before he could finish speaking, he saw Akira scrambling around the devastated battlefield, rummaging through mountains of black hair.

He lifted the hundred-meter-tall corpse with one hand, looking absurd.

“You fool, what are you doing now?!” Genryūsai’s blood pressure rose.

“Collecting trophies.” Akira replied matter-of-factly, “I’m taking these back to show the Eleventh Division my great achievements! How else can I become a Captain in the future?”

The old man shook his head — such a major incident would be reported to all thirteen divisions anyway, and everyone would know of his accomplishments. There was no need for such theatrics.

This foolish boy…

He didn’t stop him, instead letting Akira do as he pleased.

As a proper teacher, if you constrain your disciples in everything, it becomes not cultivation but puppet-mastery. When necessary, you must give them freedom.

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That night, moonlight spilled like water across the land.

A shadowy figure slipped into the 12th Division’s quarters. After getting his bearings in the moonlight, he made straight for the division members’ dormitory, quietly pushed open a corridor window, and crept inside.

From within, Aizen watched the familiar figure sneaking through the window and felt a headache coming on. What nonsense was this guy up to now?

Not only was he awake in the middle of the night, but he’d chosen to break into the 12th Division like this.

Wasn’t he worried about Senjumaru discovering him?

“Come quickly.” Akira whispered, startled for a moment upon noticing Aizen was awake.

Just then, a division member stirred in a nearby bed. In his drowsy state, he spotted someone at the window and his eyes widened.

Before he could cry out, a fist suddenly enlarged before his eyes, and he slumped back unconscious.

Breaking and entering, assaulting a colleague.

These charges alone would be enough to strip Akira of his Shihakushō and earn him a stay in the Nest of Maggots.

With a sigh at his pitiful division colleague, Aizen moved silently toward the window.

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North Rukongai, 1st District.

Mountain range outskirts, secluded cave.

Surveying his surroundings, confusion flickered in Aizen’s eyes. He didn’t understand why Akira had brought him here. He’d asked along the way, but the other had remained mysteriously silent.

“We’re almost there.” Akira called, quickening his pace.

As they rounded a corner, the space opened up before them.

There stood a mountain-like black body with a shattered white bone mask — fierce and terrifying in the quiet cave.

A low-level Hollow, a Gillian.

Aizen stood stunned. He hadn’t expected Akira to actually retrieve the Gillian’s corpse from the battlefield and hide it here.

“Preserving the Gillian’s corpse was no easy task.” Akira said wearily, “The Reishi density in Rukongai is too low, and corpses decompose quickly. Fortunately, teacher taught me how to use Bakudō barriers for preservation. Otherwise, it would have already dissolved into Reishi and returned to Soul Society’s embrace.”

Aizen remained silent, then after a moment, he turned to the young man beside him with a puzzled look.

“How did you know…”

Before he could finish speaking, Akira waved him off, saying.

“No need for thanks. If you really want to thank me, why not call me adoptive father? When I become Captain-Commander in the future, I’ll make you the Captain of the Eleventh Division.”

Aizen: “…”

This guy’s demeanor was as unsightly as ever.

Although he was reluctant to admit it, Akira had truly been a great help this time.

Normal Hollows were too weak to support the next step of research — at minimum, a Gillian-level Hollow was needed to continue the experiments.

He had thought this capture plan had completely failed, but unexpectedly, Akira had brought back the Gillian’s corpse.

“Since this thing is useful to you, I can rest easy.” Akira didn’t ask what Aizen planned to do with the Hollow corpse.

He didn’t even linger, leaving the cave after saying just a few words.

Watching his retreating figure, Aizen’s gaze grew complex. Someone like him was meant to walk alone in darkness; having friends was somewhat too luxurious.

Walking out of the cave, Akira headed back along their original route.

When one treats me with sincerity, I shall respond with my heart. As with Genryūsai, so too with Aizen.

Just like when Szayelaporro had invaded Soul Society earlier, preparing to capture him, and Aizen suddenly appeared to help.

He could have hidden in a Bakudō barrier and waited quietly while the Vasto Lord captured Akira and took him back to Hueco Mundo in a bottle.

But Aizen didn’t do that.

Perhaps it was out of some personal sentiment, but Akira wouldn’t think ill of his friends. Since they were friends, helping each other was only natural.

Looking at the crescent moon hanging high in the sky, his lips curved into a slight smile.

Without realizing when it had happened, Aizen had gradually grown different from the one in his memories — although at times, he was still as proud as ever.

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11th Division, Quarters.

When Akira climbed back over the wall to his room, he froze at the sight of two unfamiliar figures standing at his doorway.

Their luxurious outer garments marked them as residents of the Sixth District.

Nobles of Soul Society.

They stood quietly under the corridor lights, showing no signs of impatience — unusual for nobles.

Akira was taken aback. He’d always thought nobles were the arrogant sort, yet here were two who seemed… normal.

Upon noticing his approach, the pair turned around. Their faces brightened with joy as they stepped forward.

“Pleased to meet you, Lord Kisaragi.”

“We are from the lower noble house of Segawa, here to discuss a matter with you.”

Akira furrowed his brows, searching his memory for any mention of the Segawa house. After a moment, he gave up — he had no recollection of them whatsoever.

“Let’s talk inside — it’s rather cold out here.” He wouldn’t leave guests standing in the corridor; that would be discourteous.

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Soon, amidst the rising tea fragrance, the three sat facing each other.

“Do you have any thoughts about nobility?”

The opening question left Akira bewildered. What were these two getting at?

“Let me be direct.” Kusagusa Segawa, the slightly older of the two, spoke with a gentle smile, “As nobles are the highest class in Soul Society, the Gotei 13 exists to serve the nobility and ensure our interests. As a member of the Thirteen Divisions, you should understand this, right? Moreover, the power of nobility supersedes even the law.”

Akira blinked, waiting for what would come next.

After glancing around, Kusagusa lowered his voice and said earnestly.

“Right now there’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity — a certain lord wishes to nominate you to become a new noble. And all you need to do is pledge your loyalty to him!”

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