Chapter 237 – 237 ⥤ The Unethical Master and Disciple

“Will we win?” Sōton asked nervously while munching on a large honeydew melon that the old man had brought for guests.

Chōjirō glanced at the oddly familiar hamster, seeing Akira’s shadow in him.

As a Hollow who had become an Arrancar, shouldn’t he show some fear in Soul Society, a place teeming with Shinigami?

Wasn’t he afraid the Shinigami might gang up on him? Or had someone’s meme virus completely infected this Hollow named Sōton?

Despite the many thoughts running through his mind, Chōjirō maintained his gentlemanly composure and calmly answered the question.

“We’ll lose. Though Captain Yamamoto may appear elderly and frail, that’s merely superficial. You must learn to see past appearances to grasp the essence of things. Captain Yamamoto’s presence alone gives off an overwhelming aura, like a blazing sun at its zenith. Though Captain Kisaragi is strong, he’s still a hundred years too early to defeat Captain Yamamoto.”

Thinking of the kid’s meteoric rise to power, Chōjirō quickly swallowed back half of what he was about to say.

In another thousand years, that guy might even challenge the Soul King himself in his palace.

Genryūsai was truly powerful, maintaining his position as the strongest Shinigami, formidable in every way.

As for Akira… Heh, having a sword but choosing to use fists instead — could he even be called a Shinigami?

While the man and hamster were talking, they arrived at the training grounds that had been rebuilt countless times, like the Ship of Theseus.

The two stood at a distance, eyes locked, their powerful auras clashing and creating visible ripples in the air.

Genryūsai observed Akira across from him, noticing something different about the young man today.

“As expected of the boss!” Sōton exclaimed excitedly, “Just his stance looks invincible! So powerful and awesome! Smash that old man’s head in!”

Genryūsai suddenly turned his head, his blood-red eyes filled with killing intent fixed on the large Hollow hamster.

Sōton was so frightened he nearly dropped his melon. He’d almost forgotten this white-bearded old man was also a force to be reckoned with.

Fortunately, the old man didn’t pay it much mind. In his eyes, it was perfectly normal for pets to take after their masters. Given that his wayward disciple had nothing but muscle for brains, his pet couldn’t be very bright either.

He needn’t bother arguing with a fool.

When both their auras had reached their peak, under his watchful gaze, Akira slowly drew his Zanpakutō.

Genryūsai nodded slightly and drew his sword in response.

This was a teaching match, not a fight to the death. Starting with a clothes-ripping punch wouldn’t quite fit his teachings.

Without hesitation, the moment the sword rang out, Akira vanished. An agile figure materialized before Genryūsai, delivering a diagonal slash from above that seemed to tear the very air.

Chōjirō and Sōton stood on the observation platform outside the training grounds, protected by a Kidō barrier.

Seeing Akira’s nimble strike, Chōjirō furrowed his brows.

Just three days apart had warranted a fresh look — the move set was completely different from before, down to its most fundamental aspects.

That movement must have been the Hirenkyaku.

Chōjirō knew some inside information, but he hadn’t expected this kid to boldly use Quincy techniques during training. Wasn’t he afraid Genryūsai would become enraged and cut down such an unfilial disciple with one stroke?

Though, of course, the Captain-Commander probably couldn’t kill this little monster anymore.

Facing the powerful strike brimming with fighting spirit, Genryūsai instantly raised his sword to block.

The blade collision sent out thunderous shockwaves, instantly contained by both their Reiatsu. This prevented the aftershocks from destroying the training grounds — after all, this teaching match had just begun; it wasn’t time for total destruction yet.

The crossing of blades gave Genryūsai a strange feeling, as if he’d returned to three thousand years ago when he’d first sworn to become Soul Society’s strongest.

Back then, he’d encountered his first formidable enemy — a master swordsman from the noble districts whose blade mastery far surpassed his own.

Each variation in sword technique had nearly killed him. The force transmitted through the blade felt as heavy as fighting against a mountain.

How had this boy become so strong?!

His brows furrowed as he attempted to use his newly developed sword techniques to force back his wayward disciple and gain a brief respite.

But Akira seemed to predict his every move, displaying perfect mastery of the Death Slayer Style perfected from Unohana. He instantly blocked all possible escape angles, drawing his sword closer until it directly threatened the old man’s right shoulder.

Clang!

Another blade collision. Sparks flew as thunder cracked through the air.

Genryūsai was shocked to find that the impact force transmitted through the blade nearly made him lose his grip on Ryūjin Jakka.

Akira’s striking power had grown even more formidable than before. Though he clearly wasn’t using much Reiatsu, his strikes were intense enough to make one’s scalp tingle.

“Yeah! Boss is invincible!”

Though Sōton couldn’t grasp the intricacies of their techniques, even a Hollow hamster could see who had the upper hand.

Chōjirō watched in amazement. From his perspective, Genryūsai was entirely on the defensive.

Despite having swordsmanship unmatched in all of Soul Society, Genryūsai couldn’t utilize his mastery effectively. Akira seemed to know exactly where his advantage lay, forcing their blades to clash at every opportunity.

With each exchange, Genryūsai’s sword techniques grew more disrupted until he could no longer maintain any systematic moves.

It was overwhelming. This man’s power defied belief.

Clang!

Another blade collision.

Exhausted, Genryūsai took a step back. Looking up, he caught his wayward disciple’s mocking smile taunting him.

Rage instantly consumed him.

Genryūsai unleashed his powerful Reiatsu, stepping forward as flames wrapped around his blade. He struck down at his disciple with unstoppable force, his elderly figure appearing divine in the firelight.

Akira’s eyes widened as he tried to counter with his own Reiatsu, but his reaction came a half-beat too late.

“Damn, this old man fights dirty!”

Boom!

The blades collided again, and the terrible impact transformed into a fiery tornado that howled forth, engulfing the grotesque, demon-like man.

A figure wreathed in flames went flying back, crashing hard into the Kidō barrier and creating rippling transparent waves.

“Yama-jii, you’ve stooped so low! Using such underhanded tactics!” He complained while dispersing the flames from his body.

Genryūsai’s face reddened, but he quickly regained his composure, coughing twice before speaking with dignity.

“This too is part of the lesson. As a Shinigami, you must always remain vigilant of your surroundings. Like in our previous battle, if I had been someone else in disguise, you would have suffered more than mere injuries.”

Akira narrowed his eyes, staring intently at the old man’s attempt to justify himself.

Truth was, someone capable of impersonating Genryūsai without being detected hadn’t even been born yet. The old man clearly just couldn’t stand losing and was acting out of frustrated anger.

“Very well, let’s have another round.” Akira patted the ash off his body, revealing his perfectly toned physique, and grinned, “Teacher, you know how I am. That was just the appetizer — now comes the main course.”

Genryūsai’s eye twitched.

He had almost forgotten. This unruly disciple’s fighting power doubled whenever his clothes came off.

“Ahem, let’s not rush.” He said, changing the subject, “I have a question — why did your Zanjutsu keep growing stronger during our fight?”

Akira grinned, “Have you heard of the Schrift?”

Under the old man’s curious gaze, he explained the basic abilities of the Schrift { W }.

Simply put, he had imbued his Zanpakutō with the Schrift’s power. Though the exact mechanism remained unclear, fighting this youth who had obtained the power of the world was like fighting against the world itself.

“Unlike those flashy Sternritter members.” Akira crossed his arms smugly, “This Captain’s specialty is pure overwhelming power — brute force all the way!”

Genryūsai was shocked.

His wayward disciple was already absurdly strong, and now he had even obtained the Quincy-exclusive Schrift power — was there no justice?

At this rate, should he just retire tomorrow?

Thinking of his disciple’s daily insubordination, he couldn’t help but worry deeply. Would he really end up selling roasted sweet potatoes on the street?

Genryūsai shook his head vigorously — he had spent too much time with that person and nearly been assimilated. No matter how outrageous this kid was, he wouldn’t be so unfilial.

“I understand now.” He nodded, “This Schrift is a special ability similar to Bankai — so you were cheating from the start.”

Akira chuckled, not denying it.

Seeing this, Genryūsai threw his Ryūjin Jakka aside, its blade embedding into a nearby wall.

“Today’s examination is about basic techniques. So, without using any other abilities, let’s go another round. Let me see if you’ve been neglecting your daily training.”

Akira’s eyes lit up. Following the old man’s example, he skillfully threw aside his sword. As he spread his arms, his bones cracked and his muscles shifted, creating an illusion of rising heat.

A demonic grin appeared as he stared fiercely ahead.

“Teacher, have you ever known defeat?”

⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬

The evening sun bathed the land in its glow as a lonely figure emerged from the 1st Division quarters, sunlight falling on his shoulders and illuminating the white haori bearing the character “一”.

“Not only did I fail to earn money, but Yama-jii took my money too. Such is life…” Akira sighed helplessly as he walked home, reminiscing about the hand-to-hand combat from earlier.

The old man was still the old man. Even with his Hakuda Level at 100, when it came to pure technique, Akira was still mercilessly dominated by Genryūsai, completely unable to fight back. It was only thanks to his tough body that he managed to turn the tide.

Not only that, but Aizen was detained by the old man at the 1st Division under the pretext of disturbing Soul Society’s order.

What’s worse, worried about someone running around naked and affecting Seireitei’s appearance, he forcibly put his haori on his disciple.

This led to strange looks from the other Shinigami Officers.

Wrapping the haori tighter around himself, Akira walked helplessly down the street, heading toward his loyal 11th Division.

As he passed through an alley, he suddenly turned his gaze toward the northwest.

A white figure appeared in the shadows. Black hair braided and falling over the front, a large captain’s haori and Shinigami uniform covering the body, with a smile as gentle as sunlight on the delicate face.

Retsu Unohana, whom he hadn’t seen in days.

Upon seeing the person she had been thinking of day and night, her face showed no particular emotion, maintaining her usual gentle demeanor.

She approached with a smile, saying, “I just went to the First Division to report on recent work and heard from Captain-Commander Yamamoto about your battle with him. It’s the first time I’ve heard him evaluate someone like that.”

As she spoke, Unohana walked closer, seemingly intending to stand beside Akira.

“As it happens, I’ve finished my work now. Why don’t we…”

When she came to his side, she noticed his expression was strange, as if trying to suppress a laugh, giving an indescribable feeling.

“Akira-kun, are you injured somewhere?” Unohana asked with concern, her attitude still gentle.

“I just remembered something amusing.” Akira grinned, showing fierce white teeth, his smile somewhat chilling.

Unohana was puzzled, “What amusing thing?”

“Why, of course…”

Powerful Reiatsu suddenly erupted as black torrents materialized on his left and right, instantly engulfing both figures.

“That we can fight all out!”

⤫ Kaen Raikō: Kuroi Mōka ⥤ Flame Lightning: Black Inferno! ⤬

Heavy patterns intersected, transforming into countless blade edges that burst forth from within, slashing viciously at Unohana’s body like a thousand razor-sharp knives.

Boom!!

Blood-colored sword pressure exploded outward, shredding the black coffin apart. A disheveled figure leaped out, flashing to a nearby rooftop.

“Akira, what are you doing?!” Her face contorted with shock and betrayal, her delicate features twisted with despair and pain.

“To be honest, hearing you address me like that makes me sick.” Akira sighed while flexing his body, his Reiatsu swirling freely, “We’re not close — you should call me Captain Kisaragi, or Lord Magistrate. And another thing: where have you hidden my dear sister Retsu?”

At these words, the expression of Unohana on the rooftop transformed, her furrowed brows smoothing into an unsettling calm.

“I’m the perfect mirror of that Retsu Unohana. But, Akira, your cold determination truly breaks my heart…”

⤫⤬⤫

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep