"Mr. Jūshirō, why have you and the Headmaster come here in person this time?"
Akira smiled faintly at Jūshirō Ukitake's polite opening, brushing past the formalities. His tone, though respectful, shifted the conversation directly toward their true purpose.
A confession?
That kind of thing doesn't get handed down from above—it's taken by one's own strength.
Soul Society has everything—ancient arts, noble legacies, even fragments of the Soul King falling from the sky in the Royal Palace. But fairness? Justice? Those aren't offered freely.
No matter the outcome, be it one man or the entire Four Great Noble Houses behind this, Akira and Aizen had already resolved: they would unearth the truth with their own hands.
"This isn't my decision," Ukitake said calmly. "Captain-Commander Yamamoto personally asked to see you."
The implication was clear. This wasn't an informal visit or an upperclassman checking in—it was a summons.
At that, Akira and Aizen both turned their attention toward Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni.
The old man did not posture. With Ryūjin Jakka in hand and eyes like smoldering embers beneath snow-white brows, he spoke directly:
"Before anything else, I have a question."
"Why did you choose to become Shinigami?"
The question pierced like his Zanpakutō—direct, inescapable, and layered with intent. His gaze cut through superficial reasoning, pressing into the truth buried beneath ambition and talent.
"To witness the summit," Akira replied immediately.
The peak of Shinigami ability.
The ultimate expression of Zanpakutō mastery.
Reiatsu evolution.
The apex of Zanjutsu and Hakuda, mastered without external shortcuts.
Akira's answer was blunt, almost defiant in its clarity.
Aizen followed calmly:
"To reach a higher realm."
His words were smooth, devoid of arrogance but full of underlying certainty. He had abandoned the shadows of his original timeline. There was no longer a need to play the meek genius.
"I see."
Yamamoto neither approved nor condemned. His weathered face was blank, unreadable. Even Jūshirō Ukitake, who had studied under him for over a century, could not discern what the old man was thinking.
A heavy silence descended. The air thickened—not with hostility, but pressure. The sheer weight of Yamamoto's spiritual presence was enough to silence everything around him.
But Akira wasn't flustered.
Instead, his thoughts drifted inward—to the 'System' within him, which had begun to buzz with notifications.
[Your Zanpakutō is deeply satisfied with how you wielded him during the recent battle. In high spirits, he has decided to reveal a new Shikai ability: "Amazono Cloud Sword."]
[Your Swordsmanship is delighted. You invoked the sword pressure he granted you during training. In return, he has customized a new technique: "Zanjutsu: Hundred-Step Flying Blade."]
[Your Kidō is sulking. You ignored him while showing off Zanpakutō and sword skills. However, he's decided to forgive you—for now. He grants you Bakudō No. 63: "Locking Bar Shackles." But he insists that next time you're flaunting power, bring him along too.]
Akira nearly laughed aloud.
A custom flying sword technique imbued with Reiatsu, perfectly syncing with Amazono Cloud Sword, a ranged Shikai-type ability. It allowed him to project attacks freely and retract his blade without worry, maintaining full control at any distance.
But Kidō's pouting amused him.
Apparently, next time he fought, he'd have to use Hadō and Bakudō flashily enough to appease the third part of his power trio.
Otherwise, Kidō might really go on strike.
Just then, Yamamoto broke the silence.
"Akira. Aizen."
His voice was clear, but it brooked no debate.
"Return to the Spiritual Arts Academy. I will assign personnel to investigate the matter further. Also—do not disclose what happened today."
The order was absolute.
Ukitake's eyes flickered. The decision was expected, but still troubling. This wasn't just about secrecy. It was politics.
"Understood."
"Farewell, Captain-Commander. Mr. Jūshirō."
Akira and Aizen exchanged a brief glance. Though they felt the implications behind Yamamoto's words, they maintained composed expressions, bowed respectfully, and turned to leave.
After a pause, Ukitake asked quietly:
"Teacher Yamamoto… why?"
"Didn't you come here intending to accept Akira and Aizen as personal disciples?"
The question lingered.
Why did you suddenly change your mind?"
Jūshirō Ukitake stood in silence as he watched the figures of the Akira brothers disappear beyond the horizon. He didn't speak until their Reiatsu completely faded from the edge of his perception. Only then did he turn and ask Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni, unable to suppress the doubt and confusion in his heart.
"A strike team of ten was deployed—one Vice-Captain and nine seated officers, none below Third Seat level. Their objective? Two first-year Spiritual Arts Academy students who had only enrolled yesterday."
"And now, every single one of them is dead. Not a single survivor."
Yamamoto's voice was heavy, weathered by over two millennia of battle and command.
"To be frank, Jūshirō… Akira's potential far exceeds even your generous descriptions. In the thousands of years I have lived, I have never encountered a pair of Shinigami candidates with such devastating potential."
His words were measured, but each carried immense weight.
Jūshirō Ukitake's eyes narrowed slightly, half in astonishment and half in concern.
"Then why, Teacher Yamamoto, did you let them go so easily?"
He was astonished by his master's evaluation—greater than any genius in millennia—and equally puzzled by the abrupt withdrawal of interest.
"Because talent alone is meaningless if one cannot uphold justice."
Yamamoto's tone was calm, yet resolute, his gaze distant as if peering into a memory.
"We must wait and observe. Time reveals the truth. What I need to confirm is not just strength, but whether they are men of principle. If they are, then accepting them as disciples will not be too late. After all, their path as Shinigami has only just begun."
He spoke openly to Ukitake, the student who had followed him the longest and understood the most of his inner world.
In truth, Yamamoto had originally intended to claim Akira and Aizen as personal disciples, moved by their rare genius. But the battlefield—strewn with corpses—brought back memories too vivid to ignore. In the way the two brothers stood over their fallen enemies, there was an echo of a figure from long ago.
A man who led overwhelming power "in the name of justice" but left ruin in his wake.
A man once known as the "Sword Saint."
Yamamoto Genryūsai himself, two thousand years ago.
And that same man had to destroy who he had become, to forge Seireitei into something structured, disciplined, lawful.
Soul Society, with all its strictures and traditions, could not afford to birth another such force. Certainly not two.
He didn't want another sword-demon, a being who could wield power unchecked. He didn't want to raise another Zaraki Kenpachi—a monster who lived for combat and could never be fully tamed. In teaching Zaraki the sword, Yamamoto had secretly hoped the man would find a ceiling beneath Unohana's shadow and never surpass it.
Now, with Akira and Aizen, the danger was greater still. Not one prodigy, but two. Brothers. Rational, intelligent, and politically aware.
If they walked a path of control and balance, they could become Soul Society's pillars.
But if not…
"You've changed, Teacher," Jūshirō murmured, as Yamamoto turned and began to walk away.
"Because of them, you're choosing caution over cultivation. Monitoring over mentorship."
His voice was barely audible, but laced with disappointment.
"Have you forgotten? They're the victims here."
Ukitake was not as cunning as Shunsui, but he was far from blind. He could sense it—there was something deeper behind the assassination attempt. A coordinated strike, Kidō barriers and spatial seals used with military precision—this wasn't the work of rogue Hollows or common criminals. It bore the scent of politics.
And Yamamoto's hesitation wasn't just wisdom—it was fear.
Fear that Akira and Aizen might challenge the unspoken order of Soul Society.
The same fear that led Central 46 to create contradictory laws to prevent unknown dangers before they could arise. Like the law forbidding the existence of two identical Zanpakutō—an impossible restriction, meant to curb anomalies at all costs.
Now, Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni was falling into the same pattern.
Just like Central 46.
His heart had once been fierce, passionate, resolute.
Now, it was cautious, calculating, and aging.
And for the first time, Ukitake felt uneasy not about Akira or Aizen…
…but about what the Soul Society might do to them next.