Chapter 94 – 94 ⥤ A Boy Full of Treasures

Akira stared wide-eyed at Senjumaru, trying to discern something from her slightly pale face.

“Did you not hear clearly?” She spoke calmly, “Then let me repeat: take off all your clothes — completely naked.”

He tilted his head in confusion. He suspected this woman was lusting after his body, and he had reason to think so.

Though his reading experience was limited, he knew enough. He had never heard of anyone needing to strip completely naked just for measurements.

“Creating a Shihakushō is extremely delicate work.” The golden skeletal arms moved gently in front of Senjumaru, a long, thin needle emanating a sharp aura that stung just to look at, “Even the slightest mistake could have serious consequences.”

She maintained a completely serious expression, not the faintest blush on her face.

Hearing this, Akira became conflicted.

What puzzled him was: with so many Shinigami wearing Shihakushō in the Seireitei, did everyone really need to strip for measurements? With so many people, wouldn’t she get eye strain?

While he pondered this, in an undetectable corner, two shadows crept along the ground like dark snakes, silently approaching.

Just as the shadows were about to reach him, his expression turned serious — his Danger Instinct had warned him.

Without warning, the shadows burst up from the ground, shooting straight toward him.

At the critical moment, Akira bent his body at an impossible angle, barely managing to dodge. As he moved, he clearly saw what had attacked him.

Two pieces of fabric — red and green with delicate patterns of stars dotted across them — beautiful to behold.

A flash of surprise crossed Senjumaru’s eyes, as if she hadn’t expected this. But quickly, her lips curved into a smile, as if discovering something interesting, and she poured all her materialized Reiatsu into the nearby silk.

In the next instant, time seemed to freeze. The fabric throughout the room transformed into a massive torrent, engulfing everything.

This unexpected method of attack filled him with unprecedented pressure.

An existence even more terrifying than Shiraki Shin’ichi!

Without hesitation, he drew his sword, activated the Kidō patterns, and unleashed his Reiatsu at full force.

⤫ Jigoku Kumo Wakatsu ⥤ Hellish Cloud Parting! ⤬

Sword light crisscrossed, illuminating the mottled patterns ahead. The sharp blade light tore through layer after layer of fabric, sending countless fragments falling like rain.

Endless pieces of fabric wove together into a massive curtain, seeming limitless as they drained his Reiatsu.

The power gap was too wide. Even at full strength, he had no chance of victory.

As expected of a future Zero Division member — none of them were easy opponents.

Senjumaru stood in the middle of the ocean of fabric like a deity commanding her domain, a mysterious smile playing at her lips as her black eyes fixed intently on the desperately resisting youth, savoring the spectacle.

Purple flames intertwined with white lightning erupted from the torrent, shredding the falling fabric with wild intensity.

Akira’s display was nothing short of overwhelming. The cold gleam of his blade cut through even the toughest fabric, tearing everything apart instantly.

But the fabric was endless. For each piece he cut down, ten or a hundred more emerged from the gap. Thin needles darted between the fragments, mending the torn fabric with mysterious power. The repairs were flawless — not a single stitch visible.

Even more remarkable was how the speed of repair surpassed Akira’s rate of destruction. Such intense combat couldn’t last forever.

Though his power was impressive, he remained only a middle-Seated Officer. The fact that he had lasted this long against Senjumaru, soon-to-be Zero Division member, was extraordinary in itself.

Eventually, Akira’s Reiatsu depleted and his physical strength gave out. Unable even to lift his sword, he watched helplessly as the relentless ocean of fabric engulfed him.

A decisive defeat.

Soon, he hung suspended in the air, wrapped like a mummy in colorful silk.

“Woman, I’m warning you not to try anything funny.” He declared, his spirit unbroken, “I am the Captain-Commander’s personal disciple, heir to the Elemental Style, future Captain of Eleventh Division, the ninth Kenpachi—”

Before he could finish, all his clothes were stripped away.

His physique revealed perfect lines and powerful, well-defined muscles.

Years of weighted waterfall training had sculpted his body into ideal proportions, like a masterpiece carved by a skilled artist.

Senjumaru’s eyes brightened subtly, her lips curving into a meaningful smile. The golden skeletal arms reached out, gliding across his skin and tracing the defined muscle lines downward.

Akira heaved a heavy sigh, now convinced this woman was lusting after his body.

“Not bad at all, young man.” She praised as additional golden arms extended from her sides, measuring his body with a tape, “No wonder the Captain-Commander took you as his disciple.”

The measurements finished quickly, and Akira was released.

As he reached for his clothes, fabric pulled open a side door, revealing a dim warehouse filled with Shihakushō of various sizes.

Just as confusion crossed his face, Senjumaru’s languid voice drifted over.

“Here, go pick one.”

“?”

Wasn’t making a Shihakushō supposed to be extremely delicate work?

Harboring thoughts of revenge, he selected a suitable Shihakushō from the warehouse and changed into it immediately.

Since she’d already seen him naked, a few more glances hardly mattered.

As Akira changed, Senjumaru vanished, leaving behind an empty room where only silk drifted eerily through the air.

Finding himself alone, Akira pushed down his curiosity and hurried out.

He swore to remember this humiliation and exact his revenge one day!

Among the floating fabric and silk, a pair of black eyes watched the youth’s departing figure, and a whisper floated through the empty space.

“An anomalous Spirit Body… Seems familiar, need to check more references. Hmm, I’ve got some ideas about the Ultimate Garment too, truly a boy full of treasures. I’ve taken quite a liking to you…”

⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬

1st Division, Tea Room.

Genryūsai gazed at the respectful young man before him, his brows furrowed and aged face deep in thought.

It was unprecedented. In his thousands of years of life, he had never encountered anything like this — a Shinigami unable to complete Jinzen.

Akira had mentioned this issue before. Initially, Genryūsai thought the kid simply lacked self-awareness and couldn’t fully grasp the essence of the soul. So during training, he had taught not only Hakuda but also Jinzen.

The Elemental Style Jinzen he developed combined the best aspects of many schools, preserving their essence while eliminating the unnecessary.

This Sword Meditation’s key feature was its ability to rapidly empty one’s mind and body, achieving a meditative state that liberated oneself from all distracting thoughts. This allowed one’s consciousness to enter the Zanpakutō’s Inner World in optimal condition, gain acceptance, learn its true name, and ultimately achieve Shikai through dedicated practice.

But a new problem had emerged.

According to his observations, Akira had mastered Elemental Jinzen and could successfully enter the empty meditative state. Yet he still couldn’t enter the Zanpakutō’s Inner World.

In Akira’s words, he could enter — but only with external assistance.

“Show me.” Genryūsai instructed after careful consideration, “I’ll try to identify where the problem lies.”

Akira nodded and began clearing the tea table.

Seeing this, the old man immediately felt uneasy, but before he could speak, he watched the kid pull out his ritual trinity set from his pocket.

Incense, ceremonial wand, and bell.

Only then did Genryūsai recall what Akira had previously told him — about communicating through ritual, having Mimihagi help analyze the Jinzen.

As he watched, the incense slowly lit, the bell gently rang, and the ceremonial wand stood straight.

Under his gaze, Akira’s mind quickly emptied, distractions instantly fell away, and in that moment of haziness, his consciousness descended into the Zanpakutō’s Inner World.

Soon after, consciousness returned, and the kid’s eyes regained their clarity.

Looking at the elder watching him, he spread his hands helplessly.

“That’s the whole process. I can enter the Zanpakutō’s Inner World, but I can’t see where the Zanpakutō is.”

Genryūsai’s white eyebrows knitted together so tightly they nearly formed a single line. Even with his vast knowledge and experience, he had never encountered such a case.

Strange — too strange!

After a moment’s thought, he asked, “Have you asked Mimihagi?”

Akira nodded. For a problem that even Aizen couldn’t solve, he had naturally consulted Mimihagi early on.

“It said I must rely on myself.”

Genryūsai nodded, accepting this statement.

“I understand. This makes sense, but in this vast world, anything is possible — there are always exceptions. There are two ways to resolve your situation.”

Akira’s eyes brightened as he respectfully poured tea, “Please enlighten me, teacher.”

“The first is to continue your ritual meditation method. With time, you may learn the true name and master Shikai.”

“And the second?”

The old man gave him an exasperated look, “Do you know of Kōga Kuchiki?”

Akira’s brows furrowed.

Not only in his previous life but also in Soul Society had he heard this name repeatedly.

Kōga Kuchiki, the Kuchiki family’s son-in-law, was a powerful being known as the Shinigami Killer. During the war, he had slain many rebels, often turning the tide of battle, earning fame throughout the Seireitei.

During his time in the hospital room with Sōjun, he’d heard Kōga’s name frequently.

To Sōjun, his brother-in-law was the goal to strive toward. If he could become someone like Kōga, he could lead the Kuchiki family to new glory.

“His Zanpakutō is named Muramasa.” Genryūsai said gravely, “It can awaken other Zanpakutō’s consciousness and amplify their emotions. If you’re willing, I can summon Kōga Kuchiki to help awaken your Zanpakutō’s consciousness.”

Hearing this, Akira shook his head without hesitation.

“I’d rather rely on my own efforts. Power gained through others’ help always feels somewhat unsettling.”

That’s what he said. But the reality was different.

No one understood Muramasa’s power better than him. Beyond awakening Zanpakutō consciousness, it possessed mental attacks, memory reading, and Zanpakutō brainwashing abilities.

It was essentially a weapon of internal warfare — a divine weapon against Shinigami.

Moreover, his memories contained too many taboos; seeing them could drive one mad. For Kōga’s sake, better not.

{T/N: Worse than horses??}

Genryūsai nodded, unusually not contradicting this statement.

“In that case, continue practicing ritual meditation. Communicating with a Zanpakutō is like grinding rice with a millstone — rushing will only backfire.”

Clearly, he too knew of Muramasa’s side effects. Unless absolutely necessary, he didn’t want Akira taking such a shortcut.

“But there’s no need to worry too much.” Genryūsai suddenly said, “Even without a Zanpakutō, one can become truly strong. Take the Grand Kidō Chief, Tessai Tsukabishi — he could contend with other Captain-class Shinigami using only Kidō, even suppressing and defeating them.”

Akira looked up, studying the elder before him intently.

“Between him and you, who’s stronger?”

Genryūsai hesitated before answering uncertainly, “Probably myself, having lived longer and gained more experience through the years.”

Akira sighed.

Indeed, the path of Kidō was not viable. Even instant-casting the Hadō #99 (Goryūtenmetsu) wouldn’t be enough to defeat this bald old eagle.

“Why are you suddenly so eager to become stronger?” Genryūsai asked, puzzled.

“I’ve made an enemy outside.” Akira explained, “The difference in strength is too great — I can’t possibly win.”

Hearing this, Genryūsai grew more curious.

He was quite aware of his wayward disciple’s strength — even without being able to release his Zanpakutō, he was no ordinary Lieutenant’s match.

For Akira to say the difference in strength was too great, this enemy must be formidable indeed.

“I understand.” Genryūsai didn’t pursue the question further, “In that case, I’ll help you once more. I remember you used Kaen Hōsha and Atsuryoku Sōsai when fighting with Shiraki Shin’ichi.”

Akira nodded.

Though these techniques were complex, after taking several beatings, he had managed to grasp them.

“These techniques are basic moves of the Elemental Style.”

Genryūsai stood up, hanging his captain’s haori on the coat rack, his exaggerated muscles visible beneath his Shinigami uniform:

“Beyond these, there are a advanced technique, known as…”

“Ikkotsu!”

⤫⤬⤫

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep