Chapter 310 – 310 ⥤ The Angry Yama-jiis

“Please, try my latest tea brewing method.” Genryūsai gestured while extinguishing the flames on Ryūjin Jakka.

He watched with interest as an old man — his mirror image — picked up the teacup and, with familiar motions, took a gentle sip of the slightly bitter tea.

The other man set down the cup, savoring the lingering fragrance between his lips and teeth, eyes half-closed as if lost in the sublime world of tea ceremony.

“After bitterness comes sweetness, rich and mellow. Hmm, good tea.”

Hearing this praise, Genryūsai smiled with satisfaction and nodded.

As expected of another version of himself from a parallel world — his taste was just as discerning.

Unlike that unfilial disciple who not only mooched food and drinks from the 1st Division but constantly picked and chose, especially rejecting bitter tea like this.

Helplessly, he could only appreciate it alone.

Now, having finally met a kindred spirit, he was determined to share tea, conversation, and his years of hardships and sorrows.

“Let’s talk about how our similar worlds developed differently. I’m curious about how things progressed on your side.”

The two old men stared at each other until this world’s Genryūsai broke the silence, steering the conversation.

Parallel Yamamoto pondered, stroking his beard.

Though reluctant to discuss the past, he saw no point in concealing anything from someone who shared his experiences.

After the pause, he began narrating Soul Society’s history.

He told of establishing the Gotei 13, Aizen’s betrayal, and how another world’s Aizen finally brought peace to Soul Society, though his account carried some personal bias.

Genryūsai listened quietly, but as the tale continued, his brows furrowed.

Had he truly been this stubborn and inflexible? How did this differ from the corrupt Central 46?

Parallel Yamamoto took several deep breaths, concluding his uncomfortable narrative.

“Your turn.”

Genryūsai nodded and, skipping their shared experiences, began telling his very different story.

“Ahem, I’ll hold nothing back.”

Parallel Yamamoto frowned, sensing something ominous. This version of himself seemed quite different, showing unusual traits.

He watched as an extraordinary tale unfolded.

It began when Genryūsai discovered the “exceptionally gifted” Akira Kisaragi by chance. Worried the genius might stray, he took him into the Genryū Style.

Through years of careful instruction, he aimed to teach everything he knew, once seeing Akira as his legacy.

Yet his blood pressure stayed perpetually high, with frequent heart attacks from his rebellious disciple’s outrageous behavior — and more incredibly, that youth’s habit of creating major incidents.

Like going undercover in the Tsunayashiro clan, becoming God-King in Hueco Mundo, infiltrating the Wandenreich, and single-handedly crushing Hell…

At first, Parallel Yamamoto listened with great interest, but as the events unfolded, he sensed something wasn’t quite right.

Looking at Genryūsai’s wildly upturned mouth corners and eyes that couldn’t suppress a smile even when squinting, he realized this old fool wasn’t complaining at all — he was bragging!

Though Akira had made his share of mistakes, both small and large, the child had never strayed from the path of justice.

Not only had he prevented Aizen’s crisis before it began, but he had also reformed Soul Society’s corrupt system, established connections between the Sangai, and greatly improved relations among Shinigami, Hollows, and Quincy.

He had interpreted the word “balance” to perfection, truly embodying the duties of a Shinigami.

In comparison, what was wrong with having high blood pressure? Even if Parallel Yamamoto wanted to raise his, he wouldn’t have the chance!

Just look at what that good-for-nothing Shunsui did every day — flirting with female Shinigami in the division, drinking, slacking off, and mingling with the Shinigami Women’s Association.

The mere thought of his disciple’s daily behavior made Parallel Yamamoto’s blood pressure rise involuntarily.

“Alright, enough small talk.” Parallel Yamamoto cut off the other’s bragging, “I have real business to attend to in your world.”

“What business?” Genryūsai frowned.

“Because of Kisaragi’s actions, our world is developing toward your current social system.” Parallel Yamamoto said irritably, “I need to observe how Soul Society, Hueco Mundo, and the Wandenreich have developed, to minimize detours and avoid unnecessary sacrifices and troubles.”

Genryūsai’s mouth curved into a smile, “I never expected that unruly disciple to be so thoughtful, even taking care of you all in the parallel world. It seems under my guidance, he has grown tremendously.”

Listen to this nonsense! That kid only learned battle stripping and brute force fighting from you — what else did he learn?!

Others might not know what the Genryū style teaches, but how could I not know?!

What virtue do you have, you old fool, to deserve such a good disciple!

Parallel Yamamoto took a deep breath, resisting the urge to draw Ryūjin Jakka and give this old man a slash.

“Enough, stop talking nonsense. I can’t stay here too long.”

As the saying goes, no one knows you better than yourself.

Though both men’s lives had undergone major shifts under someone’s influence, changing their personalities, the shrewd Genryūsai couldn’t help but notice that the old man before him was consumed with envy and jealousy.

Satisfied with his bragging, he laughed heartily, stood up, walked to the room’s coat rack, and put on a somewhat rough haori.

“No more talk. Let’s see Rukongai first. If we’re talking about places with the biggest changes under the current system reforms, that would be there…”

Parallel Yamamoto frowned slightly as he examined the dusty haori on Genryūsai, with its rough stitching and sewing — completely unbefitting his status.

“After your retirement, hasn’t that kid taken care of you? It’s bad enough that Chōjirō isn’t by your side, but even your haori is old.”

Genryūsai paused for a moment, his mouth curving upward, “Retirement means having your own life. Since Chōjirō likes the West Branch’s culture, I simply gave him extended leave to go sightseeing in London. Recently he wrote back and sent quite a few gifts, telling me not to worry — he’s doing very well there and will return after a while.”

Hearing this, Parallel Yamamoto took another deep breath, struggling to control his rising blood pressure.

Though they were the same person, their lives were worlds apart.

Before Genryūsai finished speaking, he patted his haori and said with a grin:

“As for this haori, it’s a gift from that kid. He learned sewing from Senjumaru.” His face showed a disapproving expression, “It’s just that the kid has no talent in this area — the haori he made is ugly and rough, completely unbefitting of my dignity. Next time I’ll have the Sewing Division make one instead.”

Parallel Yamamoto: “?”

Old fool, let’s fight to the death! Today I shall surely replace you!

⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬

Shunsui stood on the rooftop, feeling the heat permeating the air as he watched the two old men brawling in the street below, lost in thought.

“Who would’ve thought that little brother disciple has already inherited leadership and can still make two old men lose their composure and attack each other because of him? Such skill — I can’t match it.”

After this soliloquy, he cupped his hands around his mouth like a megaphone and shouted at the two:

“Hey Yama-jii, you won’t kill anyone fighting like that! Come on, show me the same intensity you had when beating me up! Don’t hold back on the Jōkaku Enjō, Ennetsu Jigoku, Tenchi Kaijin and all that!”

As soon as he finished speaking, both old men glared in his direction, their heavy and burning Reiatsu rolling toward the rooftop in waves of heat.

Seeing the situation turn dangerous, Shunsui immediately cried out in alarm and flash-stepped away.

One Yama-jii was terrifying enough; two Yama-jiis were practically apocalyptic.

Unable to catch this unfilial disciple, both old men’s eyes flashed with disappointment simultaneously.

But soon, they turned their gazes back to each other, flames burning in their eyes as if ready to incinerate everything between heaven and earth.

It had been a long time since either had met such a formidable opponent. Across the Sangai, opponents were either too strong to beat or too weak to bother with — the gap too wide to make fights interesting.

Now that they’d finally found an equally matched opponent, they couldn’t let the opportunity slip away. Though both were somewhat reckless, they could still distinguish between urgent and trivial matters.

Two blazing figures moved while fighting toward Rukongai, trying to avoid other Shinigami.

They quickly reached an uninhabited area of Rukongai, where terrifying flames shot skyward, incinerating everything around them.

⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬

1st Division.

Akira rested his head in Rangiku’s embrace, enjoying her world-class endowments.

Just then, a Shinigami reported from outside:

“Captain-Commander, sir, Captain Yamamoto and the other Captain Yamamoto are fighting. According to witnesses, they appear to be arguing about you. Would you like to…”

Hearing this, Akira’s eyes lit up as he suddenly sprang up from his comfortable position.

“How could I miss such a spectacle!”

He vanished from the room instantly, leaving behind a sulking Rangiku, her cheeks puffed out like a peashooter.

“And it was finally my turn…”

Before she could finish speaking, he reappeared, wordlessly grabbed her hand, and they both vanished from the room as her face brightened with joy.

⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬

⤫ Genryū: Ikkotsu ⥤ Elemental Style: Single Bone! ⤬

Genryūsai was fired up, his body wreathed in roaring flames that emanated a suffocating heat.

Since they were still in Soul Society, neither had released their Bankai, and even their Shikai releases were restrained. Getting their fill of combat was enough — they couldn’t be like that foolish disciple who completely disregarded others’ safety.

Their fists collided with the sound of clashing steel. The flames, compressed by savage force, rolled to both sides, forming spectacular waves of fire that instantly engulfed and incinerated the forest.

He was enjoying the fight, and so was Parallel Yamamoto.

However, as he fought, he noticed something unusual. Why wasn’t this old fellow showing any signs of fatigue? He remained full of vigor even after fighting for so long.

After brief consideration, Parallel Yamamoto realized the key point, understanding dawning on his face.

Unlike himself, Genryūsai frequently had his blood pressure raised by the young brat, and their master-disciple interactions weren’t as dull as with Shunsui. They were constantly stripping down to fight or crossing swords.

Through such intense combat training, his strength had steadily increased, and even his stamina and endurance had improved significantly.

If the two of them had switched places, he probably could have torn off one of Aizen’s arms in Karakura Town.

“Old man, you dare get distracted while fighting me?!” Genryūsai’s eyes brightened as he stepped back, then lunged forward in a fighting stance, both fists striking out.

⤫ Genryū: Sōkotsu ⥤ Elemental Style: Double Bone! ⤬

Parallel Yamamoto’s pupils constricted as he instinctively released his Reiatsu, launching forward with the same stance.

However, at that moment, a familiar figure appeared between them, arms extended. Before the old men could register the newcomer’s presence, it was too late to pull back.

BOOM!!!

The old men stood stunned — their near full-power attacks had landed simultaneously on the figure’s arms, yet he remained unscathed.

Akira gazed at them with exaggerated emotion:

“How has it come to this, my two teachers? I understand your feelings — there’s no need to fight over me. Though my charm may be unmatched in history, you shouldn’t turn against each other because of it. Seeing you battle on my account makes my heart ache. Alas, my sins run deep…”

The Yama-jiis: “?”

That day, a scorching tornado of flames painted the Rukongai skies crimson, and through the howling winds echoed faint, mortifying wails…

⤫⤬⤫

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