Chapter 90 – 90 ⥤ Seireitei Is Not Just About Fighting – It’s Also About Human Relations

In the silence, blood flowed steadily.

The graduating academy students and Shinigami were forced to confront anew the reality and cruelty of the world. One name etched itself deeply into their memories.

Akira Kisaragi!

From now on, regardless of which division he joined, all eyes would be on him.

Shiraki collapsed to the ground, his once-fierce face now twisted beyond recognition — his expression devoid of its previous confidence, showing only raw fear and desperation.

But no one responded.

Under countless watching eyes, the demon-like youth raised both hands and waved gently toward the observation stands.

Seeing this, Genryūsai felt an ominous premonition. Before he could speak to stop it, a voice rang out from the training grounds.

“I am the High Priest of the Sakahone Shrine, specializing in exorcism, consecration, blessings, prayers, divine communication, and protective charm sales. Future colleagues, if you have any needs, please feel free to come…”

Aizen held his head and sighed helplessly, knowing something unexpected was coming.

The youth was brazenly advertising his shrine before everyone. Once the evaluation ended, the Captain-Commander would surely have his skin teared off while still alive.

On the high platform, veins bulged on Genryūsai’s forehead as waves of scorching Reiatsu swirled around him.

If not for Jūshirō’s nervous laughter and quick intervention, the youth in the training grounds would have already been wrapped in flames.

“You impudent brat, once this evaluation ends, I will certainly—”

The sudden killing intent made Akira feel as if he’d fallen into a volcano, intense heat surrounding him like he was about to be roasted alive.

Without time to say more, after glancing at the nearly combusting Genryūsai, he leaped away from the training grounds.

After returning to the preparation area, Akira sat straight with his hands on his thighs, acting as if nothing had happened.

Aizen glanced at him and said with slight amazement, “I didn’t expect you to think this far ahead.”

Akira looked at his friend in confusion, his large eyes full of puzzlement.

“Being ruthless and violent during battle, but immediately showing a harmless appearance afterward, indirectly changing the Officers’ fixed impressions of you. After joining a Division, you won’t be ostracized by others and can quickly integrate into—”

While Aizen was analyzing, Akira furrowed his brows, then slowly relaxed them, finally showing a look of realization.

“That’s right, exactly! Truly, Sōsuke understands me best!”

Seeing his expression, Aizen immediately gave up on his analysis. He had overthought it — this guy was purely advertising for the sake of advertising.

The Shinigami in the observation stands looked at Akira with complex expressions, showing awe, respect, and admiration.

On the high platform, Unohana smiled gently, her gaze fixed firmly on him, her beautiful eyes filled with an unusual light.

‘As expected of the person I’ve chosen — whether it’s talent or fighting style, they all perfectly match that title…’

On the high platform, Genshirō Okikiba announced the official end of the evaluation.

The vast majority had passed and become official Shinigami. Now they only needed to wait for Division notifications, though they could also submit applications to their preferred Divisions.

This application method was generally reserved for geniuses. Like Takeo Matsushita and Saori Takeshita, who had submitted applications to their preferred divisions and quickly received approval.

Of course, for geniuses like Akira and Aizen, there was no need to write applications — the Officers in charge of recruiting would seek them out by reputation alone.

Even before Akira left the training grounds, several of the bolder Seated Officers had already extended enthusiastic invitations to him.

His responses were very polite, indicating he would carefully consider.

Although one might still transfer between Divisions later due to duty reassignments, being careful at the start wasn’t wrong.

Soon, when most people had left, a sickly-looking gentle man came before Akira, blocking his path.

“Hello, Junior Brother Kisaragi. I’m Jūshirō Ukitake, nice to meet you.” A gentle smile appeared on Jūshirō’s face, clearly the type that was universally approachable, “I’m also Master Genryūsai’s disciple, and I joined earlier than you, so calling you junior brother isn’t inappropriate.”

“Greetings, Senior Brother Ukitake.” Akira said these words without hesitation.

He had clearly seen from below that if Jūshirō hadn’t held back the angry Genryūsai, he would have already been struck on the forehead.

Moreover, judging by his appearance, this man was very approachable, just like Unohana in her normal state.

Jūshirō turned his back and pointed to the “13” symbol behind him, suggesting.

“How about it, interested in joining your senior brother’s Thirteenth Division?”

Hearing this, Akira showed hesitation.

“No need to answer immediately.” Jūshirō winked at him and smiled, “I’m just going through the motions.”

Though this young man’s performance was brilliant and would certainly stand out in the 13th Division, Seireitei wasn’t just about fighting — it was also about human relations.

He spent most of his days recuperating in Ugendō, only managing official duties when his health permitted. Most of the time, Sentarō Kotsubaki ran things.

This junior brother was too powerful, and given Sentarō’s personality, conflicts would be inevitable. When that time came, he wouldn’t be able to help either side.

If left to sort things out themselves, Sentarō would likely end up in pieces.

Seemingly imagining that terrible outcome, Jūshirō shook his head repeatedly. He looked at Akira, but before he could say more, he broke into violent coughing.

“Cough cough, don’t worry. It’s an old condition.” Noticing the youth’s concerned expression, a thought struck Jūshirō, “I remember you said you’re the priest of the Sakahone Shrine, right?”

Akira nodded.

“Then, do you have any protective talismans that can bless the wearer with good health?” A hint of hope appeared in Jūshirō’s face.

He had only survived by sacrificing his diseased lungs to Lord Mimihagi.

Now his lung condition was permanently fixed at a three-year-old’s capacity, leaving him perpetually weak. When coughing, he looked ready to depart for the next world at any moment.

He had even attempted to communicate with Lord Mimihagi again through the Eye’s power in his lungs, offering to sacrifice something else for better health. But Its answer was more than he could accept.

The nightmare that struck last time marked Lord Mimihagi’s first direct communication with him.

Because of this, he had reported the events in detail to his teacher Genryūsai, later discovering that the Eye’s power had been disturbed by the young man’s rituals.

Jūshirō had pondered countless times what made Akira so special in Mimihagi’s eyes.

Was it merely his talent? Even now, the answer eluded him.

Hearing this, Akira’s eyes lit up, “That’s easy. Consider it my welcome gift to senior brother.”

He smoothly produced a stack of protective talismans from his intact pocket, selected one, and offered it.

The wooden strips used for the protective talismans came from Check-in rewards and could be stored in the system space.

Jūshirō was amazed that the talismans had survived such intense combat unscathed.

Beside them, Aizen saw this and sighed softly.

Even now he couldn’t figure out where this guy concealed his items. Each time Akira retrieved something, it seemed like a new trick.

Jūshirō expressed his thanks and carefully accepted the talisman, studying it intently.

On the delicate white wooden strip was drawn a familiar pattern — a black right hand wrapped in luxurious clothes, its humanlike pose radiating sacred authority. On the back of the right hand, a single eye rested half-closed, its detached gaze piercing forward.

“Though I can’t guarantee complete recovery of your health, it will certainly have some effect.” A sincere smile appeared on Akira’s face, “The One-Eyed God will watch over you silently.”

Jūshirō gently stroked the protective talisman in his hand, feeling the familiar power contained within.

After a moment, he looked up with a gentle smile, “Thank you, junior brother. If you ever need help with anything in the future, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

Akira nodded, accepting this favor without hesitation.

This Senior Brother of his was quite easy to get along with. Once he had completely won him over, and then dealt with Shunsui of the 8th Division, he could launch a counterattack against the old bald man.

By then, the Genji School would have only one voice!

Hmph hmph.

With these thoughts in mind, Akira watched Jūshirō leave, then returned to the Shin’ō Academy with Aizen.

Since neither of them had chosen their Divisions yet, they would have to continue living in the dormitory for now.

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“Sōsuke, have you decided which division you want to join?” Akira lay on his bed, hands behind his head, staring blankly at the ceiling.

Since returning to the Academy, he had been pondering this decision constantly.

Looking at the offers from Yoruichi and the others — whether from the 2nd Division, 4th Division, or the Kidō Corps — they all held irresistible appeal. The choice seemed impossible.

Aizen was deep in thought as well, knowing his choice of Division would significantly impact his future plans.

One thing was certain, though: he would not join the same Division as his priest friend.

Even compared to the Shinigami Captains, Akira’s perception was frighteningly keen. Spending too much time together would risk exposing secrets that needed to stay hidden.

When that happened, their friendship might not survive.

Aizen considered each Division’s duties and characteristics, calculating which ones Akira would definitely avoid.

“I’ll probably choose between the Third Division, Fifth Division, Twelfth Division…”

Before he could finish speaking, rhythmic snoring drifted from the bed beside him.

Aizen fell silent.

Sometimes, he really wanted to give this bastard a slash.

⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬

The next morning, when the first ray of sunlight fell on his face, Akira reflexively awoke from his slumber.

It wasn’t his biological clock that had roused him, but rather a familiar Reiatsu that had spread like a net over the entire dormitory.

Just then, an elderly voice sounded in his ear.

“Akira Kisaragi, report to the First Division headquarters immediately!”

The suppressed anger in it was like a volcano about to erupt.

Having his sweet dreams about caressing a certain female Captain with braided hair interrupted, Akira’s face twisted in annoyance. He immediately prepared to block the communication with Reiatsu before returning to his satisfying morning nap.

But just as he was about to act, the stern voice spoke in a tone that brooked no refusal.

“If you dare use Reiatsu to block the Tenteikūra, this old man will show you what it means to be a strict teacher.”

{T/N: Bakudō #77, Tenteikūra, is used for communication.}

With those words, the other side hung up first.

Being threatened by some senile old man first thing in the morning, Akira got up in a daze and let out a weak cry.

“This is what life is all about…”

⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬

1st Division Headquarters, Captain’s meeting room.

When Akira was led by Chōjirō Sasakibe to this spacious and luxurious room, his heart skipped a beat.

He looked at the meticulously groomed silver-haired gentleman beside him and asked tentatively.

“Vice-Captain Sasakibe, there’s no Soul Burial Ceremony Ritual (Konsō Reisai) scheduled for today, right?”

Hearing this, Chōjirō gave Akira a penetrating look. Based on his years of experience serving Genryūsai, while there might not be any funeral ceremony today, tomorrow was another matter entirely.

“No.”

Getting this confirmation, Akira immediately relaxed and strode in with complete nonchalance.

“Yamamoto—!”

In an instant, several gazes fixed upon him — one particularly dangerous — making him swallow his next words.

“Ahem, Commander-General, sir, you’re looking quite well today!”

Genryūsai snorted disdainfully, “Thanks to you, I haven’t been angered to death yet.”

Just thinking about this kid’s behavior in yesterday’s training grounds made his anger flare anew.

The Shin’ō Academy had operated for nearly two thousand years, hosting over three hundred graduation assessments both large and small. Yet he had never seen anyone as outrageous as this kid.

Yesterday, if Jūshirō hadn’t stopped him…

While Genryūsai simmered in anger, Akira’s attention had already wandered to the others in the meeting room. A quick glance revealed mostly familiar faces.

There was Retsu Unohana, Yoruichi Shihōin, Tessai Tsukabishi, and Jūshirō Ukitake.

He could guess the identities of some unfamiliar ones by their appearance: Shunsui Kyōraku in his pink floral haori, and Ginrei Kuchiki wearing the captain’s haori that marked his position, bearing some resemblance to Sōjun.

Of course, some faces were completely unknown to him.

Among the powerful figures stood a nervous-looking young man with curly black hair and ordinary features, dressed in plain black Shinigami robes.

Yoruichi, whom he hadn’t seen in a while, gave him a cheerful wave, while Unohana offered a gentle smile, her beautiful eyes bright with anticipation.

Tessai, Jūshirō, and Shunsui acknowledged him with welcoming smiles.

Akira returned each greeting warmly.

Genryūsai watched this exchange with irritation and spoke.

“The reason I summoned you here today is to discuss your Division placement.”

Moving to the center of the room, Akira felt some tension leave his shoulders.

“Shouldn’t I be the one to decide that?”

Genryūsai gave a measured nod.

“Under normal circumstances, yes. Talented graduates of the Shin’ō Academy typically choose their placement by applying to their preferred Divisions. However, your situation is unique, and this old man must make different arrangements.”

He paused, gesturing to those assembled in the meeting room.

“They all wish to recruit you into their Divisions…”

⤫⤬⤫

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