"Very good, you have quite the spirit."
Yamamoto flexed his fingers and neck, his joints letting out a series of crisp pops. A faint smile played at the corners of his mouth as he looked at Naraku Sora, who stood before him in a mirroring posture.
A hint of satisfaction flickered in his eyes.
Unlike the combat-averse Ukitake Jūshirō or the lazy Kyōraku Shunsui, this newly accepted disciple—whether in Hakuda or Zanjutsu—was very much to his liking. Especially that indomitable fighting spirit and remarkable talent for learning; he was a mirror image of Yamamoto's younger self.
Teaching him often felt like looking into a mirror.
While explaining philosophical concepts might be slightly troublesome, Naraku Sora was clearly a genius in practical combat. What his mind could not remember, his body could. Often, after being beaten a few times, his outstanding talent would manifest, allowing him to perfectly replicate those moves.
Teaching a genius and teaching a fool are two entirely different concepts. The former is a pleasure; the latter, a torment. As the founder of the Genryū, Yamamoto had encountered no shortage of fools in his teaching career. He could only say the past was best left unvisited.
Now, as the Head Captain of the Gotei 13, he rarely felt the urge to take on a student. Naraku Sora was the exception.
Initially, he had intended to forge the boy into a sharp blade to use against the nobles. But as they spent more time together, he realized that doing so would be a waste of talent. This boy deserved a brighter future, rather than being broken in a struggle against the aristocracy.
Naraku Sora watched as Yamamoto removed his Captain's haori and tied the upper half of his Shihakushō around his waist. Suddenly, he felt a hair-raising chill. It was as if a volcano were rising before him, brewing a boiling heat beneath the earth, ready to erupt without restraint. A terrifying shadow loomed over the dojo, making the entire building tremble.
Yet, Naraku Sora felt no fear. On the contrary, he became exceptionally excited. He didn't know exactly how much damage a Black Flash could do, but with his stats boosted to the limit, he felt powerful!
Yamamoto was just a hurdle to be cleared!
Seeing Naraku Sora's confidence, Yamamoto grinned slightly. His iron-like muscles flexed, and he looked forward to the battle even more. He hoped this boy could provide him with a surprise.
The two figures stood opposite each other, eyes locked on their opponent. A low rumble echoed from within their bodies. Visible spiritual pressure surged out, and an identical, terrifying heat manifested from the bodies of both the old man and the youth.
The heavy Reiatsu distorted the air, manifesting in different colors. One was golden-red; the other was blood-red.
In the garden of the First Squad barracks, Sasakibe Chōjirō's expression shifted as he sensed the blazing Reiatsu. He quickly set down his watering can and used Flash Step to appear outside the dojo. Coincidentally, the Third Seat of the First Squad, Okikiba Genshirō, arrived at the same time.
The two exchanged a look, both seeing the surprise in each other's eyes. Normally, Yamamoto wouldn't be so extravagant when teaching a disciple. But judging by the performance of the other Reiatsu, was Naraku Sora's progress not a bit too absurd?
"Let's seal the dojo with a Bakudō barrier first," Sasakibe Chōjirō suggested.
Okikiba Genshirō nodded with a grave expression. Enormous Kidō Reiatsu surged from their palms, intertwining to weave a massive barrier that covered the entire building.
Opposite Naraku Sora, Yamamoto, his muscles bulging, stood barefoot on the ground. He tested the hardness of the newly built floor, bent his legs slightly into a stance, and a flash of heat flickered in his eyes beneath his calm face.
"I shall allow you the first move."
Naraku Sora rested his hands on his knees. Scorching Reiatsu erupted from his frame, his Shihakushō flapping like a wind-blown banner. He smirked, revealing a kind smile. "In that case, I won't be polite."
The moment he spoke, a ferocious grin closed the distance. His muscles took on a black-red hue, and Reiatsu filled every fiber. Pure, terrifying power exploded in that instant, tearing through the air.
A muffled collision suddenly rang out.
Naraku Sora's eyes widened. A scorching breath hit him full-force as Reiatsu, hot as lava, bore down, crushing his guaranteed strike with overwhelming force. Then, the counterattack arrived.
A powerful fist instantly broke through his defense. An old but forceful fist slammed mercilessly into his chest. Under the impact of the immense force, Naraku Sora's figure hunched over. A fist print bulged from his back, and a shockwave rippled outward.
An unavoidable sense of suffocation instantly enveloped him.
When the master and disciple tacitly maintained their Reiatsu at the same level, the vast gap in technique became glaringly apparent. The pride he felt from defeating Takeda Goki was crushed into dust. Even at the same Reiatsu level, Yamamoto could still end the battle in an instant, relying on sophisticated techniques that far surpassed his own.
And that was the confidence of the Soul Society's strongest Soul Reaper.
Naraku Sora once wondered if Yamamoto was holding back, teaching him only minor tricks while keeping the true ultimate moves to himself. But looking closely, Yamamoto wasn't even using those elaborate Hakuda forms. He was simply making the most appropriate counterattacks based on his understanding of combat.
"Boy, relying too much on the defense of the Shihakushō is fatal in close-quarters combat," Yamamoto pointed out as he continued the pummeling. "Once an enemy has a way to break through that layer of protection, your relatively weak body becomes a fatal—"
Before he could finish, a left hand suddenly grabbed his right. Then, the hunched figure snapped upright. A right hand, shrouded in a blood-red mist, clenched into a fist and swung like wind and thunder, radiating terrifying heat.
Aimed directly at Yamamoto's face, it slammed down.
"Ikkotsu!"
The merciless offensive move made the onlookers outside gasp. Thinking it was a guaranteed hit, Naraku Sora even saw the skin distort from the pressure of the fist. However, the moment the Ikkotsu was about to touch that face, a large, calloused palm appeared out of nowhere and caught the fist directly.
The moment they collided, a heart-shaking roar and a loud crash erupted. A scalding heat wave surged from between them, instantly sweeping through the entire dojo.
The next moment, as the palm and fist met, the clenched fists, acting like hammers, slammed into Naraku Sora's chest. The instant of the collision caused Naraku Sora to briefly lose all sensation. A terrifying impact, like a sun exploding, erupted, swept out, and spread in all directions, swallowing everything.
The domineering, peerless power instantly poured into his frame, filling his limbs and bones. It felt as if he were being crushed into meat paste under a stone mill. The ubiquitous pain almost consumed his sanity.
Naraku Sora flew backward in a daze. Amidst the roaring sound, he left the ground smoothly and drew a nearly perfect arc in the sky. He flew dozens of meters in an instant. With a final muffled thud, his sturdy body was embedded into the solid floor, surrounded by uniform, dense cracks.
When Naraku Sora struggled to get up from the floor, he could still clearly feel the residual pain in his body, which was almost suffocating.
"Sōkotsu, boy."
Yamamoto pulled back his stance and spoke slowly. Ignoring the iron-like muscles and the horrific scars covering his body, from his facial features alone, the old man did look a bit like a kind elder.
"Do you feel it? This is the peak that pure technique can reach. Back then, when my training with the Zanpakutō was still immature, I relied on this skill to make a name for the Genryū in the Soul Society. If I hadn't encountered a certain accident, I might have stayed on this path until the end. But fundamentally, the essence of a Soul Reaper's power is still the Zanpakutō. After putting aside Hakuda techniques and focusing on the Zanpakutō, I saw a much wider world."
Naraku Sora was lost in thought. But relying on that one attempt was not enough to grasp the essence of Sōkotsu. The completely different power-delivery techniques and Reiatsu circulation paths were more than ten times more complex than Ikkotsu.
"The greatest advantage of Hakuda is that it provides a reliable way for a Soul Reaper to fight when their Zanpakutō loses its effectiveness. Besides, some Soul Reapers' Zanpakutō are not suited for combat, or rather, their power is much weaker compared to hand-to-hand skills. Like that girl from the Shihōin family."
Yamamoto gave a slightly mocking smile. "Perhaps it's a family inheritance, but Shihōin Yoruichi's Zanpakutō has absolutely no potential for development. Just like her ancestors. Anyway, I've digressed. Today's focus is still on teaching Sōkotsu."
Yamamoto glanced at Naraku Sora, who was resting his hands on his knees. A trace of surprise flashed under his drooping eyelids. Although he had deliberately controlled his strength and Reiatsu, an ordinary Soul Reaper taking that hit head-on would be paralyzed at the very least. Yet this boy only had some bruising on the surface, and in the short time they were speaking, the injury had almost disappeared.
And—Yamamoto looked at his hands with some doubt and clenched his fists. Why did this boy's surface defense feel strange?
"It's only polite to return the favor."
Naraku Sora shook his dazed head, gradually recovering from the aftereffects of Sōkotsu. "Now it's my turn."
Hierro's defense might not be able to withstand Yamamoto's critical hits, but the efficiency of High-Speed Regeneration could fully support him in a long-duration endurance battle. A short breath was enough. Now was the time for a counterattack!
Seeing that the boy had become lively again so quickly and was even shouting about giving him a taste of his own medicine, Yamamoto couldn't help but grin. It had been a long time since he had taught such a resilient student. He hoped this boy could give him a surprise.
Soon, the battle broke out again, and the scorching heat wave surged in the dojo. Outside, Sasakibe Chōjirō and Okikiba Genshirō were amazed, shocked by Naraku Sora's ability to take a hit and his recovery speed.
It began with Ikkotsu again. Naraku Sora's mastery of Ikkotsu had reached perfection; even Yamamoto, the founder, couldn't find a single flaw.
For example, a Double Ikkotsu.
The moment the fists collided, a loud explosion erupted, and the wind swept out. Then, another Ikkotsu, accompanied by thunder, descended. The gap between the two was extremely short; an ordinary person wouldn't be able to react at all. It looked somewhat similar to Sōkotsu, but in essence, they were poles apart.
"If this is the move you've comprehended..." Yamamoto snorted, violently crushing these techniques that he called average but were actually exquisite. He continued to apply suffocating pressure to Naraku Sora. "...then I shall have to give you a 'fail' grade."
He suddenly stepped forward, his iron-like body appearing in front of Naraku Sora without warning. His fists were joined like a hammer, assuming the stance for the final blow.
"Sōkotsu!"
Just then, Yamamoto suddenly noticed that Naraku Sora's state seemed wrong. A trace of heart-shaking darkness appeared in the originally blood-red Reiatsu, intertwining and crossing each other, forming distorted and restless bolts of electricity.
The smile on Naraku Sora's face also became more ferocious. As the brawl continued, he felt his hand getting hotter and hotter. The impact of Reiatsu exploded wildly, followed by a physical blow comparable to the charge of a Menos Grande.
"Black Flash · Ikkotsu!"
At that moment, the explosion was deafening. Everything seemed to lose its outline. Under the jumping of the black-red lightning, space itself became distorted, and a terrifying intense light erupted from within. It crushed the floor, tore open the ground, shattered the roof, and even shook the sky.
The thin clouds above the barracks were instantly wiped out by the impact of the aftershock. Pure destruction turned into a sea tide, surging straight ahead like an apocalyptic disaster, swallowing everything in front of it!
When that punch arrived, Yamamoto's expression changed drastically. The Reiatsu he had originally controlled at the same level exploded instantly, and a scorching heat wave turned into a pillar of fire that shot straight into the sky. It was as if a sun had risen above the dojo!
The majestic dojo disintegrated in an instant and collapsed with a roar. In the swirling dust, the two forces collided fiercely, annihilating everything.
Sasakibe Chōjirō and the others were dumbfounded. The attention of other Soul Reapers in the barracks was also drawn to this catastrophic scene, and they watched the Reishi storm swirling in the ruins with shocked faces.
The whistling hurricane took a long time to subside. When the dust settled, everyone saw two figures in the center of the ruins that were both strange and somewhat familiar.
The old man's body was scorched black, his Shihakushō was half-gone, and his carefully maintained beard was reduced to half its length. The youth sat cross-legged on the ground, staring at the face that was full of rage but also helpless, and he grinned silently.
"Teacher, what do you think of the new move I've come up with?"
Looking at that smiling face, Yamamoto's chest heaved. He suddenly felt an urge to smash this boy's head with a punch. He was even more of a rascal than Kyōraku Shunsui and didn't understand how to respect his teacher at all!