"What's with that face?"
In First Division's private dōjō, Yamamoto's brows knit into a single line.
"Are you worried you'll hurt me?"
"There's no need to hold back. Use your full strength and charge at me!"
Looking at the old man across from him, wreathed in Reiatsu like blazing fire, Naraku's mouth twitched.
"I don't get it, Head-Captain. This is way too dangerous."
He really didn't understand why Genryū's teaching style was so… direct. First lesson and the task was basically "attack the teacher."
Was this supposed to be "tradition"?
"Cowardice," Yamamoto snorted. "If I don't know your real level, how am I supposed to teach you?"
"Just treat me like another member of the Araki family and swing with everything you've got."
Seeing the boy still hesitating, the old man's limited patience evaporated. His right foot slammed down, and he charged straight forward.
If you won't come to me, then I'll come to you.
A burning wind slammed into Naraku's face, contorting his features.
The next instant, amidst a roaring boom, that wrinkled old face appeared right in front of him. In those lifted eyes, an unending blaze burned.
Ten-odd meters vanished in a blink.
Even with all his attention focused on Yamamoto, Naraku couldn't trace that terrifying speed.
Shock flashed through him, then snapped under the extreme pressure. Something called "reason" broke with a sharp crack.
His eyes turned feral, locking onto the old man at arm's reach.
No retreat. No dodge.
Naraku met the devouring heat head-on, exploding with all his Reiatsu. Blood-red mist burst out, sparks flying where blade met palm.
It happened in an instant.
The moment the heavy hand clashed with his sword, a thunderous boom shook the air.
Naraku smiled, slipping back a step—then suddenly stomped forward again, plunging into the heat.
Boom!
The floor shook.
His Zanpakutō swept up from below, cutting against the wind.
Blood-colored Reiatsu surged like rising magma, the blade light ripping through the outer shell of Yamamoto's Reiatsu, rushing straight toward him.
Blade against bare palm.
The gap in strength between them was enormous, but Naraku still used sheer stubbornness to swing with all the momentum he could muster.
And then, against overwhelming stats and near-perfect technique, he was crushed—cleanly, without suspense.
A monster who'd lived for thousands of years versus a freshly graduated Shinigami.
There was only ever going to be one outcome.
With a simple, unadorned punch, Yamamoto knocked Naraku flat. The boy let out an embarrassingly loud scream and hit the floor hard, unable to get back up.
Yamamoto, on the other hand, didn't even look winded. His Reiatsu barely so much as flickered.
"I've got a good measure of your level now."
"To be frank… it's strange."
"You've only got Reiatsu equivalent to Grade 9, but your destructive power is close to Grade 4 or 5."
"And your spirit-body toughness is extremely high."
He frowned slightly, a hint of puzzlement on his face.
"If other Shinigami are raw iron, then you've already got the feel of something forged and refined a thousand times."
"Maybe it's your talent. Maybe it's Warden Shutara's techniques."
"But whatever it is, you're no ordinary Shinigami anymore."
Hearing that, Naraku's body trembled on the floor. He looked up at Yamamoto—
and saw a savage grin meeting his gaze. The old man stroked his beard and bared his teeth.
"We'll have to change how I train you!"
......
Rukongai, Junrinan Outer District.
Aizen stood calmly, facing several completely unfamiliar figures. The naked malice in their eyes made their intentions very clear.
"So we finally found you, Aizen Sōsuke."
The leader smiled cruelly. "Now be a good boy and die."
"Blame your bad luck. You just had to run with Naraku Sora, and you happen to be one of the few people he calls a friend."
"Kill him."
They didn't waste time talking. They clearly understood that the longer things dragged on, the messier it could get—and they had no intention of making a scene in Junrin'an.
So a one-sided slaughter began quietly among the trees.
The attackers didn't even have time to scream. They died in despair and agony.
Aizen stood beside the pile of corpses, slowly wiping his blade, a thoughtful glint in his eyes.
These attackers clearly weren't from the Onmitsukidō. From their behavior and speech, they were more likely a private force secretly raised by the Araki family.
It seemed the retaliation against him and Naraku had already started.
If he here had only been an ordinary Shinigami…
What would things look like on Naraku's side?
With that thought, Aizen frowned and looked in the direction of Seireitei.
...
...
"What's going on?!"
The enormous mansion shook violently. Smoke billowed, flames roared, and in the courtyard outside, silhouettes were fleeing in all directions, screams tearing through the night.
The colossal estate—more a castle than a house—had devolved into chaos.
Only the clan head's chambers remained eerily quiet.
Standing by the window, the old man's face was frozen, eyes full of disbelief.
"What is happening?"
"Which idiot has the guts to attack the Araki family? Are they not afraid of the Central 46's judgment?!"
"Where is the Gotei 13? Where the hell are they?"
At that moment, a figure appeared behind him. A calm, gentle voice flowed out.
"Don't waste your breath."
"The entire Araki estate is covered by a Kidō barrier right now. Even Yamamoto Shigekuni won't notice anything for a while."
The old man spun around. When he saw who was standing there in the firelight, panic flooded his face and his voice shook.
"M-My lord… didn't we sign a contract?"
The newcomer smiled.
"Of course. The contract has been fulfilled. We've given you enough resources and influence to make the Araki family a standout among the high nobles."
"We even provided the blueprint for soul modification and the detailed procedures."
"And didn't you succeed? The power of distorted souls is unprecedented. It was enough to push the Araki family into a whole new tier."
Sweat streamed down the old man's pale face. Even his voice had gone hoarse.
"But, my lord… we haven't finished the final step yet. If you just give me a little more time—"
He was cut off by a raised hand. The smile across from him cooled into something that made the air itself feel icy.
"Which is why I'll handle the final step myself."
"Araki, thank you for all you've done."
"Now—"
"Please make one last sacrifice for our great cause."
The moment the words fell, Araki's expression froze. His frail body trembled like a leaf, his breathing turned ragged, and he hacked up blood mixed with chunks of organ.
It was like he was vomiting out his very soul.
Veins stood out like spiderwebs across his skin. His hunched frame began to grow and swell uncontrollably.
Chaotic Reiatsu flooded the massive estate, radiating endless despair and madness.
A colossal shadow slowly spread out, covering everything…