Once one learns the true name of a Zanpakuto, that is, after completing "Shikai", most people put the bulk of their attention into figuring out how to develop the Zanpakuto's abilities.
Iori was an exception. First of all, he believed that the combat system of sword, hakuda, shunpo, and kido was already quite complete. If developed properly, it would be a huge help.
Relying only on a Zanpakuto, on the other hand, if you happened to encounter an enemy with poor compatibility, you could end up being hard-countered and defeated.
Don't believe it? Go take a look at the Enel next door~
Just so happened that he possessed the Perfect Shinigami talent he freeloaded from Aizen. Since he could develop morally, intellectually, physically, aesthetically, and through labor all at once, why specialize lopsidedly?
Second, to Iori, this kind of training, which looked simple and boring, and didn't seem to bring much improvement, was actually extremely "cost-effective," because...
Clang!
The bamboo sword came down once again, but this time the sound of it cutting through the air was exceptionally clear and cool, almost as if a real blade had sliced open the gaps in the wind.
"Huff…"
Iori slowed his movements slightly and breathed out a mouthful of hot air, a trace of delight surfacing in his eyes.
He could feel it… this body was without a doubt becoming stronger, slowly but firmly.
Many people feel something similar after intense exercise. Even shut-in otaku who occasionally go for a run can be fooled by the excitement into thinking their stamina is pretty decent, but in reality, the vast majority of that is just an illusion.
The human body has extremely high plasticity, but it can't be changed overnight. It needs day after day of nourishment and training, and only long-term persistence can bring about obvious changes.
Iori was no exception. His strength didn't come in a single leap either. Like anyone else, he needed training. The difference was, his growth rate was much faster. At this very moment, he really was a bit stronger than before.
The increase wasn't large, but it was absolutely real.
This was because of that compendium of his. Even though it couldn't let him level up on the spot like in a game, the attributes gained from collecting CGs could be developed in the form of "potential," making Iori's rate of progress abnormal.
Even the most ordinary training method would let him surpass others' several days, or even weeks, of bitter practice in a single day.
Spiritual pressure worked the same way. Before reaching the upper limit of his art-style value, there would be no obstacles at all.
In the original story, after Aizen grew to his limit, he had to research the Hogyoku to break through the shackles of the Shinigami system. But Iori was naturally unrestricted. In a certain sense, his innate talent even surpassed that of this scheming BOSS.
Physique, spiritual pressure, sword–hakuda–shunpo–kido… Even if he did nothing at all and just went with the flow, Iori could still become a captain-class expert, and a well-rounded one at that.
But that still wasn't enough. To truly climb to the peak, following the rules step by step wouldn't cut it. You had to possess something extraordinary that others simply couldn't match.
Even if you maxed out your stats, you still couldn't beat some mechanism-type monsters, for example, Old Man Yamamoto getting cut in half at the waist by Yhwach…
Iori knew this very clearly. Leaving other worlds aside, just within Bleach, if you wanted to obtain a one-of-a-kind "trump card," the most reliable way was to get a Zanpakuto that straight-up cheated.
However, when it came to the Zanpakuto's predecessor, the blank asauchi tachi used as the vessel for the blade spirit, Iori had some concerns…
Huff!
Huff!
———
Iori didn't become satisfied just because of a little progress. The steady sound of practice swings continued to echo through the empty dojo.
Even setting aside the utilitarian motive of increasing strength, Iori genuinely enjoyed empty swings themselves. Emptying his mind, letting his body constantly shift between tension and relaxation, made him feel incredibly at ease, and his mood would brighten along with it.
Perhaps because of that, he unknowingly curled his lips into a smile during training.
Huff!
At a certain moment, his movements suddenly stopped. The trajectory of the bamboo sword was cut off against common sense, without even an inch of extra motion. This complete control over the blade in his hand was what kendo referred to as composure.
At this moment, several black silhouettes of varying builds appeared at the entrance of the dojo. Under the moonlight, all that could be seen were plain-colored martial arts uniforms, while their heads were completely covered by black cloth bags, leaving only two eyes exposed.
Iori lowered the wooden sword and glanced toward the doorway. He didn't really care. He turned around, went to the clothes basket by the wall, picked up a towel, and wiped the sweat from his neck.
Then he casually pulled open his dogi from the chest, peeling his entire upper body free, revealing muscles that weren't especially bulky but were very well-proportioned.
[T/N: 'Dogi' means japanese martial arts uniform]
"Hah~ that feels much better." The boy rolled his neck as he spoke, nonchalantly returning the bamboo sword to its place and taking down the specially made wooden sword used for sparring practice.
The hardness of this type of wooden sword was comparable to steel, and it was even heavier than a real blade. It was custom-made by the academy's instructors specifically to train students.
Iori took the one he usually used. As a mark, he had written the words "Lake Toya" on the hilt.
Turning back to take a look, the boy felt inexplicably disappointed, these masked people weren't using real swords either.
What a pity. According to the academy's rules, if this kind of disgraceful sneak attack involved real blades, then life and death would be left to fate. Even if he killed all of them, no one would say a thing, of course, whether there would be retaliation in the dark afterward was another matter entirely.
"One, two, three… only six people? Aren't you looking down on me a bit too much? Whatever, six is barely enough."
"This guy… he's just bluffing!"
"No point talking anymore. You're not leaving today!"
"Aizen, give it up. Don't think about stalling for time, no one's coming to save you. We specifically waited until this time to come out. If you want to blame someone, blame yourself for being too stupid, staying alone this late."
The leader was clearly very confident. In order to successfully "hunt" Iori, he had deliberately invited five capable helpers. Some were skilled in swordsmanship, some in shunpo or hakuda (hand-to-hand combat). Individually, they were definitely no match for people like Iori or Iba, but with coordination, they didn't believe Iori could escape.
"Hmph, relax. We won't take your life. One arm or one leg, lying in bed for half a year should be enough."
"Half a year?" Iori narrowed his eyes. "That's letting you off a bit too lightly."
"What did you..."
"A Shinigami's greatest reliance, besides the Zanpakuto, is sword, hakuda, shunpo, and kido."
Ignoring them, Iori continued on his own, "Take shunpo, for example. It's high-speed movement that the naked eye can't track. If you're confident in your reaction speed, you can move directly to the opponent's side..."
Whoosh!
The leading masked man only felt his vision blur. In the hazy moonlight, a white shadow flashed by, and then his chin was struck violently. His brain instantly went fuzzy, his feet left the ground, and his whole body flipped backward.
"...like this."
A light breeze brushed past everyone. Iori stepped forward, drawing his blade from his waist with an iaijutsu motion. By the time they reacted, the leader's chin had already been cracked.
"Bastard!"
"So fast!"
"Everyone be careful, this guy..."
Iori's gaze was icy. Even while deep in the enemy formation, he remained calm and unhurried. He sidestepped a wooden sword that came at him, and with a twist of his left hand, no one knew how, he latched onto the opponent's wrist.
Like a venomous snake's bite, his arm turned into a tough rope in that instant. The sudden pulling force flowed through his whole body. The man being grabbed had no idea what had happened, he simply lost his balance and was carried along.
"Body return!"
Bang!
Like a failed somersault, the masked man was slammed onto his back.
Immediately after, a sweat-soaked white sock came down. Iori added another kick to the guy who was trying to lift his head.
Hakuda, a technique that uses physical skills to subdue enemies, often used in battles aimed at capture rather than killing.
After waiting just a bit, when several other wooden swords came crashing down toward his head, the boy vanished from the spot in an instant.
"Continuous shunpo, I only mastered it a couple of days ago."
Iori recalled how he used to roughhouse with Aizen Sosuke-hime, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Even so, his hands never slowed.
Crack!
A casual swing. No special technique, just strength and sword speed. In a head-on clash, he directly snapped a wooden sword in two. The momentum of the strike didn't stop, sweeping across the opponent's chest and forcing him to kneel in pain.
That single blow nearly knocked the breath out of him.
"Got him!"
After taking down three people in a row, one guy finally seized an opening. He raised his wooden sword high behind Iori, clearly intending to use "karatake" to strike straight down on Iori's head.
But with his back to the attacker, Iori shot him a disdainful glance. With a shrug of his shoulder, he turned just enough to neatly avoid the incoming gust of force.
"What!"
'What 'what'! Don't act like it's that shocking!'
'If you're going to sneak attack someone, at least do it properly. What's with shouting ahead of time?'
Then again, thinking about it carefully, so-called samurai were a strange breed who even shouted "Haiya!" when doing assassinations, so maybe it wasn't that odd.
While the opponent was still stunned, Iori calmly raised his hand and aimed at the hollow just below the sternum...
'White Lightning!'
No incantation. A surge of electricity instantly spread through the opponent's entire body. The intense stimulation plunged him into paralysis. He let out a choking groan, like his throat was being squeezed, and after a bout of trembling, collapsed limply to the ground.
At that moment, Iori suddenly turned around, crouched low, and performed a nimble sideways roll. A ball of fire streaked past him, making the skin on his arm sting with a burning pain.
It turned out that one of the masked men on the edge of the battle had been silently preparing kido all this time. From the looks of it, his proficiency wasn't low, he finished the chant in such a short time. His accuracy and release speed, however, were a bit lacking.
When Iori charged back toward him, the man was visibly flustered, waving his wooden sword uselessly as Iori flashed right up close.
'Thrust!'
'Hado No. 1: Thrust!'
The wind pressure released from Iori's fingertips was constrained into a solid-like impact. It kicked up transparent ripples and blasted the man, who was curled up like a shrimp, back three meters.
"Lastly, kido, advanced spells that use spiritual pressure to trigger phenomena."
"No, no way!"
Although one person was still standing unharmed, and the one who had been taken down earlier by Iori's hand-to-hand techniques had also struggled back to his feet, both were trembling all over.
They could barely grip their wooden swords. Seeing their companions, whom they considered "highly skilled", fall in just a few breaths, they had already lost the will to fight.
"Only a second-year… just a mere commoner. How could you possibly use chantless casting?! That's a technique even we haven't mastered!"
Hearing this, Iori looked at them with confusion. "You say that like your skills are amazing. Forget chantless casting, even basic swordsmanship and shunpo, I didn't see you use those either?"
"..."
The masked man was left speechless, then flew into a rage out of embarrassment. "Wasn't it because you, you shameless bastard, launched a sneak attack! If we'd been prepared, how could we have been defeated so easily without even using our specialties!"
'Shameless? Does six-on-one count as justice, then?'
'And seriously, calling what just happened a sneak attack… these guys are pretty naive.'
Iori was rendered speechless by this logic and couldn't even be bothered to argue. In his eyes, these people were nothing more than human-shaped targets that could talk.
Since these masked men dared to come looking for trouble with him, they must have been confident in their own abilities. They were certainly less proficient than Iori in sword, hakuda, shunpo, and kido, but they probably had a few tricks up their sleeves.
Unfortunately, there was a huge gulf between theoretical grades and real combat…
If Iori didn't regularly spar with Yuki, and if he weren't occasionally provoked in daily life, he wouldn't have displayed such outstanding combat performance.
So really, just having stats wasn't very useful, you had to turn them into real, tangible fighting power.
"This time you got lucky! We're leaving!"
Saying something that left Iori utterly unable to refute, the remaining two people propped up the most seriously injured companion, clearly intending to end things there.
"Huh?" Iori looked at them in surprise. "Who said you could leave?"
"…What do you mean? Are you saying you still dare to make a move on us?!"
The masked man spoke with confidence to spare. "We are..."
"Is it really okay to say it out loud?"
Iori cut him off impatiently, smiling but not smiling. "You don't want your family name to become known, especially as a defeated party."
"..."
The man froze for a moment, suddenly realizing something. Although his expression couldn't be seen, it was probably extremely awkward.
"Let me guess. Originally, you planned to teach me a lesson. Even if I reported it to the instructors and the Thirteen Divisions afterward, because you were masked, there'd be no concrete evidence. In the end, I wouldn't be able to do anything to you and could only swallow my broken teeth and endure it."
After saying that, Iori paused. Seeing that the other side never refuted him, a mocking look crept onto his face.
"Did you really never consider the possibility of 'failure'?"
"..."
"The Gotei Thirteen, when you get right down to it, is an organization that worships force. If today's incident got out, if people learned that a group of sons of prestigious families ambushed a young boy, only to end up with everyone injured… your families would probably feel 'honored by association,' right?"
"Those of you with brothers or sisters should be careful. If it were me, I wouldn't hand over the family business to such useless trash."
"You… what exactly do you want to do?!"
The leader, who had been knocked down at the very start, had actually regained consciousness long ago. He'd just been playing dead out of sheer humiliation.
Hearing this, he finally couldn't hold back and shouted at Iori, but no matter how you listened, there was a hint of bluffing bravado in his voice.
One must know that the so-called "prestigious families" within Seireitei were also divided into tiers.
The Four Great Noble Houses, which had existed since ancient times and had even served the Soul King (as everyone knew, there were actually five), were naturally the most exalted. They generally didn't interfere with Seireitei's normal order.
Below them were nobles large and small of various factions. Though they had reputation and heritage, they ultimately couldn't transcend the system and had to rely on either the Four Great Houses or the Gotei Thirteen to survive.
They would strive to secure seats within the Thirteen Divisions. If a captain-class powerhouse emerged, it could ensure that the family wouldn't decline for at least two or three hundred years.
Lastly were those of commoner origin who relied on force to rise within the Thirteen Divisions and eventually establish themselves as new nobility. These families lacked deep foundations. Once they lost their martial support, they would easily fall into decline.