Chapter 126 – 126 ⥤ An Assist from Aizen

“Is something wrong?” Seeing the old man’s expression, Akira asked curiously.

In casual conversations at the 13th Division, the Captain-Commander was known as a man who remained unfazed even if Mount Tai collapsed before him — never losing his composure over trivial matters.

On this point, Akira, as his disciple, had a different view. Since joining Genryū, he had often seen Genryūsai lose his composure, just like now.

“When you used it, did you notice anything unusual?” Instead of answering directly, the old man asked in return.

Akira shook his head, “It wasn’t much different from before the Shikai release — just some changes in form and it was a bit more obedient.”

Free control. He could even form tortoise shell and diamond rope patterns with the chains now. Of course, he wouldn’t dare demonstrate this in front of Genryūsai. Knowing the old man as he did, using his Zanpakutō for such things might get him expelled in the next second.

“When I tried to touch it with my Reiatsu…” Genryūsai nodded and continued, “My own Reiatsu was suppressed, as if a rushing river had hit an obstacle. With that explanation, you should understand, right?”

Akira grinned, “I get it, it’s just stuck, isn’t it!”

Genryūsai always underestimated his brilliant wisdom. Once a fixed image was formed, it was indeed hard to change, especially for someone as stubborn as him. It was hard to predict what kind of prejudices the old man would develop against him in the future.

Genryūsai fell silent. If he hadn’t lived so long and seen so much, he too would have struggled to understand what went on in Akira’s mind. Was this what they called a generation gap?

“In any case, this Zanpakutō’s ability is very powerful. Even just its Shikai surpasses many Zanpakutō’s Bankai. Use it well, don’t let it go to waste.” The old man advised, looking at the youth sitting properly before him.

Akira nodded, indicating he would definitely obey.

“Since you have this understanding, I can proceed without worry.”

As Akira tilted his head in confusion, Genryūsai removed his Captain’s haori and hung it on a nearby coat rack.

“This is a good opportunity to test your progress since mastering Shikai. I hope you won’t disappoint me. I’ll be waiting at the training grounds.”

With that, he walked toward the 1st Division’s training grounds.

Worth mentioning, due to frequently training Akira, the grounds had been reinforced with multiple layers of Bakudō barriers. Lieutenant Chōjirō Sasakibe would often add more barriers to the training grounds whenever he had the chance.

Looking at the old man’s broad retreating back, Akira felt none of his usual fear. Indeed, after mastering Shikai, he felt damn invincible! This mere ancient long-bearded old man, he could defeat him with a wave of his hand!

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At the training grounds.

Looking at Akira wrapped in chains, Genryūsai noted the clear difference in his presence. Both his Reiatsu and physical form showed marked improvement.

Despite Akira’s already extraordinary physical strength, Genryūsai narrowed his eyes slightly.

The foolish boy needed a lesson in humility before his confidence turned to arrogance.

More importantly, why hadn’t this reckless child informed him about Takeda’s alliance with the rebels? Instead, he’d rushed headlong into battle alone.

Had Akira not awakened his Shikai at that crucial moment, Genryūsai might never have seen his stupid disciple again.

The thought stoked an inexplicable anger in Genryūsai’s heart, his impressive muscles bulging as if coming alive.

This appearance reminded him of Shiraki Shin’ichi from the graduation exam — the old man’s muscles had achieved sentience.

As the moment to fight drew near, Akira’s earlier confidence wavered, replaced by growing unease.

Had he done something wrong? Surely fighting Takeda alone wasn’t enough to warrant expulsion?

Just as these thoughts crossed his mind, Genryūsai’s eyes narrowed, a flash of burning flame appearing in his pupils.

“You dare to be distracted while fighting me?!” His voice cracked like thunder as his palm erupted with scorching wind.

The massive palm thrust forward with an air-splitting boom, unleashing a blast of searing wind straight at Akira.

Akira’s pupils contracted, his Danger Instincts shrieking, as the old man’s palm seemed to fill his entire field of vision. Even without using Atsuryoku Sōsai (Crushing Pressure), this pure palm strike exceeded anything from their previous training sessions.

Boom!

Fist met palm in a thunderous collision that shook the entire training grounds.

Relying on Kūkan Mukai’s support and his force-deflecting ability, Akira stood his ground like a newborn calf unafraid of tigers — but at a terrible cost.

Bang!

After a brief standoff, his body hurtled backward, smashing through several layers of Kidō barriers in the training ground’s wall.

Only his exceptional durability had saved him. Any other Shinigami would have been lucky to leave a complete corpse — more likely, they’d have exploded into a bloody mist.

Akira slid down from the barrier, shaking his dazed head vigorously before fixing the old man with a defiant stare.

“Again!”

Seeing this, Genryūsai grinned. His entire body shifted, muscles and bones twitching like grinding iron blocks, as scorching heat surged forth like an imminent volcanic eruption.

It’s good for young people to be confident. But when confidence becomes excessive and turns to arrogance, it needs to be corrected by elders.

Facing the old man, whose body was enveloped in scorching energy like a living volcano, Akira grinned as his fighting spirit surged anew.

He charged forward.

Bang!!

Only to fly backward with even greater speed, slamming violently into the training ground’s Kidō barriers.

From his position at the training grounds, Chōjirō Sasakibe watched the shuddering building with concern, finally expressing his thoughts with nothing more than a resigned sigh.

The Captain-Commander’s demeanor had grown notably more youthful since taking on Akira as his student.

Unfortunately, the 1st Division’s budget was stretched to its limit. If these intense training sessions continued much longer, he might need to moonlight in construction work just to keep the division’s finances afloat.

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“Let’s stop here for today.” Genryūsai said, knowing that if they continued, Unohana might come to scold him.

Akira lay sprawled on the ground like a carpet, making several failed attempts to stand. He resembled a dazed cockroach that had survived five liters of poison and seven whacks from a slipper.

“Help… everything’s spinning… but I can still… still fight…” His voice came out weak and breathless.

It was now confirmed — Genryūsai remained the same merciless training machine.

Even after mastering Shikai and defeating 3rd Division Captain Takeda Chishi, Akira was nowhere near turning the tables on his master.

Watching the unyielding youth flopping around like a fish out of water, Genryūsai found himself thinking of another equally talented but completely different disciple — Shunsui Kyōraku.

Unlike Akira, Shunsui would never stand if he could sit, and never sit if he could lie down. Though naturally gifted, he would procrastinate on every task until the last possible moment.

His attitude toward training and study was no different.

This kid, however, shared some traits with Unohana — no wonder the two got along so well.

After catching his breath and regaining some strength, Akira slowly pushed himself up and contemplated the vast gulf between himself and Genryūsai.

He quickly abandoned this futile exercise. The gap was simply too immense.

In Reiatsu, technique, and battle experience, the old man outclassed him completely — they existed in entirely different dimensions. Even unleashing his Shikai and every technique he’d ever learned barely made a dent.

This led Akira to suspect that Genryūsai’s earlier comments about suppressing others’ Reiatsu were pure nonsense.

The old man had simply wanted to teach him a lesson.

Through this battle, he grasped one fundamental truth.

Genryūsai was Genryūsai, and Shinigami Captains were Shinigami Captains.

They weren’t even the same species.

Having taken quite a beating, Akira suspected the old man was taking personal revenge, jealous of his lustrous black hair…

Of course, he wouldn’t dare voice this thought aloud — it would remain safely locked in his mind.

“Rest well these next few days, and don’t overdo your training.” As his disciple sat lost in thought, Genryūsai spoke suddenly, “In a few days, I have a task for you.”

“What task?”

“You’ll know when the time comes.” Without further explanation, Genryūsai turned and left the training ground, hands clasped behind his back.

Watching his retreating figure, Akira felt a bad premonition rising in his heart.

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After such a thorough thrashing, Akira spent several days recuperating near the Hell Hot Springs.

During this time, Yoruichi visited once to check not only his physical condition but also his mental state.

Few in Soul Society regularly faced beatdowns from the Captain-Commander — an experience that would typically cause serious psychological trauma.

Fortunately, Akira’s mindset differed from most — rather than feeling ashamed, he wore these battles like badges of honor.

Seeing this, Yoruichi was relieved.

She soon returned to her duties, as the noble conflicts remained unresolved and Takeda Chishi’s situation added new complications.

As commander of the Onmitsukidō, her responsibilities weighed heavily upon her.

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12th Division. Aizen’s private laboratory.

Due to his contributions during the Gikon incident, Kirio Hikifune had rewarded Aizen with a well-equipped personal laboratory and granted all his research-related requests.

His position in the 12th Division was now second only to hers.

Unlike his appearance in the Rukongai, Aizen now wore a white lab coat instead of his Shinigami uniform. With his gold-rimmed glasses and graceful movements, he exuded an elegant air.

To Akira, he looked every bit the cultured villain.

Aizen: “…”

If this guy hadn’t helped him significantly last time, Akira would have started chasing him out already. Not a decent word could come out of that dog’s mouth.

“Sōsuke, have you thought about what I told you last time?” Akira sprawled on the laboratory’s only sofa, legs crossed, speaking like a boss.

The sofa hadn’t originally been part of the laboratory.

But since he found it too troublesome to stand or squat during his visits to his best friend, he’d taken it upon himself to bring one from the 11th Division.

Aizen slowly displayed a question mark.

He couldn’t recall this guy telling him anything last time. Hadn’t their last meeting been at the laboratory in Rukongai?

“There’s no future in experiments.” Akira said seriously, “Come train with me instead. With your talent, you’ll quickly catch up to my progress.”

“No.” Aizen refused decisively.

What this guy knew, he already knew too, and what this priest didn’t know, he also knew.

As for Reiryoku training, that could be done in the laboratory.

Though this guy already knew about the forbidden experiments, he still wanted to maintain some distance. This way, if they were ever discovered, Akira would have room to maneuver and wouldn’t face exile from Soul Society.

{T/N: How cute. The psycho really have a heart.}

“You’re coming whether you want to or not!” Akira suddenly stood up, a fierce grin spreading across his face, “You don’t really think you can refuse me now, do you?!”

Seeing Akira about to cause trouble in his laboratory, Aizen quickly saved his data and, catching him off guard, pushed him out the door.

Akira was furious and about to storm back in when Aizen emerged, already changed into his Shinigami uniform.

“Let’s go.”

Seeing this, the priest grinned and led the way.

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11th Division, Training Ground.

Since ninety percent of the division members had been sent to spread religious beliefs in Rukongai, the training ground lay idle. The place was usually deserted.

“Stop hesitating.” Akira urged impatiently, “I’ve already gotten permission from old man Yamamoto, and he hasn’t forbidden me from teaching others. You’ll get it in no time!”

Hearing this, Aizen sighed helplessly.

He had expected Akira might want to spar with him to improve their abilities together, but he never imagined that Akira would teach him the Genryū techniques learned from Genryūsai.

Except for Ikkotsu, which didn’t suit him, Akira held nothing back — teaching everything from Hakuda and Hohō to Hōsha and Atsuryoku Sōsai.

It had to be said: Genryūsai truly deserved his title as Soul Society’s Strongest Shinigami. These techniques were far more sophisticated than anything Aizen had learned from books.

After just one day, Aizen could clearly sense the changes in his strength. Though his Reiatsu hadn’t increased, the improvement in technique alone had taken him a significant step forward.

If he were to fight Rōjūrō now, victory would come swiftly.

As for Akira, he seemed unsatisfied with Aizen’s progress.

Since his level was far below Genryūsai’s, the difference in instructors naturally led to a difference in results.

“Let’s stop here.” Aizen said, putting down his wooden sword, “Learning more now would be biting off more than I can chew. I need time to digest this knowledge.”

Akira nodded, not arguing.

“Now it’s your turn.” Aizen rolled up his sleeves, “With your current Spiritual Body strength, you should be able to add another new Kidō pattern…”

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