Chapter 88 – 88 ⥤ The Most Respectful Student

“Teacher,cough cough, is that restless child over there Kisaragi?” A frail voice called from the high platform. The speaker was pale, clearly suffering from illness.

“Yes, that’s him.” Genryūsai narrowed his eyes, watching Akira fidget restlessly in the preparation area below, and felt a twinge of embarrassment.

“To have earned Lord Mimihagi’s approval, he truly is special.” Jūshirō Ukitake remarked, “His talent is remarkable, and he remains composed under pressure. Such qualities speak volumes.”

Genryūsai’s eyelids drooped as he replied irritably, “I simply didn’t notify the boy in advance. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be sitting there quietly at all.”

Upon hearing this, Jūshirō burst into violent coughing, managing a polite yet awkward smile.

“Is… is that so… How unexpected.”

Genryūsai gave him a meaningful look, “Does this scene feel familiar?”

The pale man sighed wistfully, “Indeed. So many years have passed in the blink of an eye. I can still vividly remember when Shunsui and I graduated…”

The old man’s gaze grew contemplative at these words.

Both Jūshirō and Shunsui were his most pride-worthy disciples from the original class, though Jūshirō’s health had always been a source of concern.

Perhaps he should ask that boy if Mimihagi’s side had any solutions?

As Genryūsai pondered this, the graduation examination began.

First came the basic skills assessment: Zanjutsu, Hakuda, Hohō, and Kidō. Students had to demonstrate these four abilities and inflict damage within specified ranges.

This phase proceeded smoothly, with all students passing.

Then came the main event — the combat examination.

Several Seated Officers took their positions in the center of the spacious dojo. They would serve as today’s examiners and, inevitably, become the students’ nightmare.

Many students trembled at the sight of their opponents. While becoming official Shinigami was already a great achievement, facing Seated Officers directly filled them with dread.

After Principal Genshirō announced several names, the examination commenced.

The battles began with students being thrown across the room, hitting the ground with heavy thuds like dumplings dropped into a pot.

The skill gap proved overwhelming; most couldn’t even react. Thankfully, the Seated Officers showed restraint, avoiding instant knockouts.

Some students, after glancing at the spectators above, found their resolve. Gritting their teeth, they gripped their Zanpakutō and launched determined attacks, briefly intensifying the battles.

The first round concluded swiftly, with most participants being carried away for emergency treatment by nearby 4th Division members.

Then came the second round, and the third.

Akira looked bewildered at the dwindling number of sixth-year students around him as realization struck.

“Sōsuke, weren’t we supposed to be in the first batch of examinations?”

Aizen glanced at him and replied calmly, “Have you ever seen the main act perform first?”

Just as he finished speaking, Genshirō announced the end of the final regular round, introducing today’s main event.

“Everyone, next is the early graduation examination for exceptional students. The first candidate is first-year student, Sōsuke Aizen!”

Under countless gazes, a figure walked slowly from the preparation area to the center of the dojo, bowing respectfully to Genryūsai and the other spectators on the high platform.

His humble demeanor earned widespread approval. People naturally warmed to the polite young man.

His examiner was a familiar Seated Officer — Hachigen Ushōda, the Kidō Corps Lieutenant who had succeeded Tessai Tsukabishi as the Kidō instructor.

Both the fighters possessed gentle personalities, maintaining perfect courtesy even as they prepared for battle.

They bowed to each other.

Then, catching Aizen off guard, Hachigen drew his Zanpakutō and struck first.

His attacks were direct and powerful — like thunder and lightning, without unnecessary flourish.

Aizen displayed surprise and responded with textbook-perfect moves.

As his class’s model student, everything he demonstrated at the Shin’ō Academy followed the textbook precisely, from theoretical knowledge to the basic combat techniques of Zanjutsu, Hakuda, Hohō, and Kidō.

What astounded onlookers was how Aizen’s attacks, while maintaining his standard persona, possessed razor-sharp precision. Like an unsealed sword, they gleamed blindingly.

Blade strikes cascaded like heavy rain, filling everyone’s vision. Fierce winds howled and Reiatsu surged, transforming the arena into what felt like a real battlefield.

The Shinigami in the spectator seats watched in amazement, reassessing their understanding of early graduation students’ capabilities.

Despite being only a first-year student, his Reiatsu and Zanjutsu techniques achieved flawless perfection.

On the high platform, Unohana nodded with satisfaction.

She had formed a good impression of Aizen — his solid Zanjutsu skills, kind and polite nature, and close relationship with Akira. Perhaps she could trick… rather, recruit him into the 4th Division.

These days, fewer talented prodigies chose to join the 4th Division.

As she pondered this, Aizen found himself at a clear disadvantage in the central dojo, pressed back by Hachigen.

Though he led the Kidō Corps, Hachigen’s Zanjutsu rivaled that of a mid-ranked Seated Officer in the Gotei 13.

From the preparation area, Akira cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted.

“Little Aizen, take it easy! Go for the middle!”

Hearing this voice — the last one he wanted to hear at this moment — Aizen’s composure crumbled. His perfect sword techniques faltered in succession, and he nearly succumbed to Hachigen’s fluid combination of attacks.

Left with no choice, he finally resorted to Kidō to turn the tide.

Though he had already planned how this battle should end, Aizen was reluctant to lose too quickly. He needed to demonstrate enough skill to gain influence quickly in whichever division he joined.

When he revealed more of his true ability, even Hachigen began to feel pressured, his tall figure steadily retreating. He sensed that if this continued, victory might slip from his grasp.

He released his Zanpakutō — the sharp blade transformed into an iron staff in a flash of white light, making his already powerful attacks even more devastating.

One strike sent Aizen flying several meters.

“Student Aizen, please be careful.” Hachigen warned kindly, “When my Shikai hits an enemy, it becomes extraordinarily heavy. If you can’t handle it, please withdraw — your performance has already secured your graduation.”

Until now, he hadn’t even used his specialty — Kidō.

Aizen merely nodded, raised his sword again, and used Shunpo to launch a renewed attack.

The battle raged on.

It ended only when the spectators’ palms had grown damp with sweat.

Genshirō personally announced the battle’s conclusion, and both combatants lowered their Zanpakutō and bowed slightly.

Every eye in the dojo — whether from Shin’ō Academy students or Shinigami officers — fixed on Aizen with shock and admiration.

The strong command respect anywhere.

“So this is the gap between geniuses and ordinary people — truly despair-inducing.”

“Yeah, facing such a monster, you can’t even muster the will to fight…”

“Wonder which Division he’ll join — can’t wait to see the Captains compete for him.”

Not only were the Shinigami Officers astounded, but even the Captains on the high platform were impressed by Aizen’s performance.

“Indeed, geniuses naturally appreciate each other.” Jūshirō remarked, thinking of his friendship with Shunsui.

In Akira and Aizen, he saw reflections of himself and that flamboyant friend from years past.

It was a shame Shunsui couldn’t attend today’s ceremony due to a mission. He hoped it was going well — that nothing would go wrong.

Aizen bowed to the high platform once more and returned to the preparation area.

“What a shame, Sōsuke.” Akira said with a regretful expression, “If you’d listened to me earlier and cut through his center, you’d have won right there.”

Aizen ignored this delirious fellow and scanned the dojo with a puzzled look.

The final act should have appeared by now — could he have guessed wrong?

With such doubts, he watched as Akira entered the center of the dojo.

For some reason, watching that retreating figure filled him with a sense of desolation, as if what lay ahead was a point of no return.

Indeed. Spending too much time with this guy had made even himself somewhat neurotic.

Aizen shook his head, clearing away unwanted thoughts.

After all, Akira was Genryūsai’s disciple. No matter how harsh it might be, there shouldn’t be any danger.

⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬

When Akira took his position in the center of the dojo, his opponent didn’t immediately appear.

Instead, Hachigen stood at the dojo’s edge, hands clasped in a seal, muttering incantations as massive, heavy Reiatsu surged from his body.

Like a flowing river, Kidō light instantly blanketed the entire dojo.

Several members of the Kidō Corps materialized at the dojo’s corners, channeling their Reiatsu into the luminous barrier in the same manner, forming an impenetrable shield.

“Such a grand setup?!” Akira hissed, his suspicions growing, “It can’t be that old man Yama is coming down himself, right?”

His eye twitched as memories of training sessions with Genryūsai flashed through his mind.

As he muttered to himself, Chōjirō Sasakibe gazed down with sympathetic eyes and warned.

“Student Kisaragi, please be careful. Your opponent is — The prisoner of the Seventh Level of Hell, Daishōnetsu, former Lieutenant of the Eleventh Division, Shiraki Shin’ichi!”

As the words fell, the front gates swung open. From the darkness emerged a towering figure, radiating intense pressure as he approached his adversary in the dojo’s center.

Shiraki’s physique was grotesquely exaggerated — arms thicker than Akira’s thighs, muscles bulging across his body in terrifying formations, as if they had gained sentience.

Even motionless, he exuded a suffocating presence. In height alone, he towered over Hachigen, who maintained the Kidō barrier.

This monster’s sudden appearance caused an uproar in the spectator stands.

The 11th Division members recognized their former Lieutenant and gasped in shock.

“Shiraki Shin’ichi, he’s still alive!”

“This guy was infamous for his violent temper — he’d physically punish Division members on a whim. They say during one mission, he brutally killed all his subordinates just because they were slowing him down. Can’t believe he’s still breathing.”

“How could Principal Okikiba choose such a monster as an examiner? Does he harbor some unspeakable grudge against Student Kisaragi?”

In the dojo’s center, two figures of vastly different heights faced each other, neither yielding ground.

Looking down at the frail youth who barely reached his chest, Shiraki’s lips curved upward, his smile twisting grotesquely through his masses of muscle — like a demon incarnate.

“Kid, what’s your name? Never mind, names aren’t important. Do you know what they promised me?” He jabbed a finger toward the spectators on the high platform, “If I kill my opponent, they’ll give me a chance to fight against a true strong warrior! I’ve been waiting for this chance for a long time!”

He narrowed his eyes, unleashing waves of violent Reiatsu that surged like a tide, leaving watching students gasping for air.

And this was with the Kidō barrier weakening his power.

“Although this test seems a bit extreme.”

Akira showed no fear in the face of Shiraki’s pressure.

On the contrary, under the oppression of this enormous Reiatsu, the blood in his body began to stir restlessly — like a volcano that had lain dormant for centuries, now on the verge of eruption.

“But Old Man Yama hasn’t gone senile enough for this yet. If he arranged it this way, he must have his reasons.”

Though his time studying with Genryūsai hadn’t been long, the old man had shown great care in teaching him. While his methods were rough, they were undeniably effective.

As a teacher who had trained many captains, the old man certainly had his own unique approach.

Moreover, Akira could sense that Genryūsai truly cared about him — rivaling even Aizen’s silent and stealthy concern.

Toward people who cared for him this way, he never felt resentment. Instead, he was eager to reciprocate with genuine sincerity.

“So, Shiraki Shin’ichi?” Akira said, imitating Genryūsai’s teaching style as he removed his Academy uniform jacket and deftly tied the inner shirt around his waist, revealing his perfect upper body, “Though I don’t know exactly how you offended Old Man Yama, but as everyone knows, I’m the most respectful student in the academy — so I might have to be a bit rough with you.”

A smile slowly formed on his face as the Reiatsu in his body gradually increased.

Looking into the eyes of the mountain before him, he spoke sarcastically.

“I hope you don’t mind…”

⤫⤬⤫

T/N: Time for Class!

For those who don’t know, the Central Great Underground Prison where Shinigami prisoners are kept is based on the Eight Hot Narakas (Hell) of Buddhism. And below are their names:

Sañjīva — Tōkatsu

Kālasūtra — Kokujō

Saṃghāta — Shugō

Raurava — Kyōkan

Mahāraurava — Daikyōkan

Tapana — Shōnetsu

Pratāpana — Daishōnetsu

Avīci — Mugen

⤫⤬⤫

I throw on my comfy priest outfit and grab my trusty wand.

TL: Yo Mimihagi, help me summon our MC!

Mimihagi: ( •_ )

A few seconds later, Akira falls face-first on the ground like a sack of shit.

Akira: … What the hell was that??

TL: Sorry about that, man. I need you to make an announcement for me.

Akira: And who the hell are you?? Do I know you or something?

TL: Well, I’m… better not tell you that. Anyway, do you know what day it is? On Earth, of course.

Akira: Wait a minute… scratching head… I remember the cafeteria has cod cakes for lunch, so it must be Tuesday.

TL: Not the weekday, you goofball – check a calendar!

Akira: How am I supposed to know that?! Do I look like someone who’s obsessed with dates?

TL: … Fair enough. Well, surprise – it’s Christmas Eve!

Akira: Cool story… But why should I care?

TL: … Right, totally spaced that your creator is Chinese.

Akira: What’s that supposed to mean?

TL: Nevermind, nevermind. Just thought you could spread some holiday cheer, but guess not. Mimihagi, yeet him outta here.

Mimihagi: ( •_ )

Akira: Mimihagi, what kind of netorare is this—!!!

I wave my wand and ditch the priest gear.

TL: Well, that was a bust. Guess I’ll handle this myself.

I do a quick vocal warm-up.

TL: MERRY CHRISTMAS, EVERYONE!!

/mrblackwing

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep