"That was before."
Akira showed no concern for Shiba Isshin's repeated insistence that the fastest recorded time in Soul Society to achieve Bankai was ten years.
No one knew better than Akira just how prideful his Zanpakutō truly was.
Now that he had made such a bold declaration—claiming he could comprehend Bankai within three days and fully master it in half a month, an art that typically required decades even among the elite—there could be no retreat. There would be no delays. Only forward momentum.
"Have you already touched the threshold of Bankai?"
"Right."
"When your Zanpakutō materializes and drags you into your inner world for dialogue, it's not impossible that it might voluntarily submit to you."
The more Shiba listened to Akira speak, the more convinced he became that the so-called "monster" in front of him had already stepped across that threshold.
And—unsettling as it was—it somehow made sense.
"After twenty-seven days, we'll all know, won't we?"
"At that time, I'll have to trouble you with something, Teacher Isshin."
"I need to borrow two hundred Shinigami—both to support the event and to serve as witnesses."
Akira smiled and deliberately steered the conversation away from the Bankai topic.
Threshold of Bankai?
As if he still needed to "train" for something like that.
No matter how imaginative Shiba Isshin could be, there was no way he could guess the truth—that Akira's Zanpakutō, Candle Yin, would independently complete the formation of Bankai. Once it had reached maturity, it wouldn't even wait for his command—it would force itself into his hands.
"You're seriously worried Hirako's going to regret accepting your challenge, aren't you?"
Isshin was inwardly astonished by the supreme confidence woven through Akira's every word.
To nearly all Shinigami, a captain of the Gotei 13 was an immovable summit—an unattainable peak.
But to this black-haired prodigy?
Captains were nothing more than inevitable markers along the road of his ascent—passing scenery to pause before, observe, then stride past.
"How could I be afraid?"
"Didn't you say it yourself, Teacher Isshin? That to take a captain's seat, one must defeat the current captain in public combat before a crowd of two hundred Shinigami witnesses?"
"Well, only you would be willing to help with something like that."
Akira's tone was nonchalant, but inwardly he had already made a firm judgment—Hirako Shinji would accept the challenge.
After all—
This was the same captain who had sensed the threat of Aizen Sōsuke earlier than anyone else and had acted without hesitation, applying pressure even before Central 46 reacted.
Hirako was a man of boundless adaptability and ambiguous bottom lines.
What wouldn't he do?
"Don't make me hate myself," Isshin sighed.
"I can get you the two hundred Shinigami. But I want you to promise me one thing."
"Keep Hirako alive as long as possible."
His words shocked everyone present.
Shihōin Yoruichi, Komamura Sajin, and several others nearby froze for a moment.
What was he saying?
Did Isshin expect Hirako Shinji to lose?
"You're asking the wrong person, Teacher Isshin," Akira replied with a slight smirk. "You should go talk to Captain Hirako."
"Akira…" Isshin's voice grew more serious. "Can you at least consider your teacher's request?"
"I'm not asking you to spare him for his sake. It's also for yours."
"Killing a Gotei 13 captain in official combat isn't illegal. But this isn't just any division. This is the 5th Division. Unlike the 11th Division, which accepts violent replacements, the 5th has deep-rooted influence across the Gotei 13."
"Hirako has prestige. He has old ties to captains, vice-captains, even the Captain-Commander."
"If you kill him, even if it's justified, the political backlash could cripple your path before it begins."
Isshin knew full well that Hirako Shinji had brought this upon himself—but logic meant nothing in the web of alliances and old loyalties in Seireitei.
He couldn't persuade Hirako directly.
So instead, he appealed to his own student.
"We'll see," Akira answered vaguely.
"Alright."
Seeing that Akira wouldn't offer a direct promise, Isshin didn't press the issue further.
After all, his relationship with Hirako wasn't that deep anyway. For a fellow captain, he felt he'd already done more than enough.
After class.
Under the watchful eyes of Shiba Isshin, Shihōin Yoruichi, and others, Akira and Aizen appeared to leave Zanjutsu Hall together, walking leisurely toward the dormitory quarters.
Of course.
That was merely what Aizen allowed everyone to see.
In truth, neither of them had left the Kendo Hall from beginning to end. The entire scene outside was a construct—an illusion woven through Kyōka Suigetsu, complete and seamless.
"We really caught something big," Akira said casually.
"And not just one."
"There's a group following him now."
Sitting on the stone steps of the Kendo Hall, Akira leaned back against the cold wall, his posture relaxed and unguarded.
"This outcome was inevitable," Aizen replied coolly. "Seireitei has endured for over two millennia. It's filled with people sharp enough to question what doesn't add up."
"But in the end," Akira said, "they can only see what you want them to see… and defend against what you want them to defend against."
Aizen offered a faint smile.
Fortunately, at this very moment, the entire Spiritual Arts Academy—students, instructors, staff—was already ensnared under the absolute hypnosis of Kyōka Suigetsu.
Had even a fragment of their conversation been overheard and circulated, it would have caused a political catastrophe across Soul Society.
Especially for Hirako Shinji.
From perception… to actions… to confrontation, everything the 5th Division captain believed he had initiated had, in fact, been choreographed from the start.
"True," Akira said. "Hirako Shinji is decent at reading people… but only to a point. He's focused on you—but completely blind to me."
"He probably thinks he found us," he added with faint amusement, "but it was the opposite. Since yesterday, you've already released Kyōka Suigetsu across the entire Academy to draw his attention."
The implications behind Akira's statement were staggering.
Hirako hadn't discovered them—they had deliberately lured him in.
"If we're certain he's a potential threat," Aizen said without emotion, "then we'll eliminate him—along with the captains who maintain ties with him."
"But…" He smiled slightly. "As you've said before—even a piece of toilet paper or a worn-out pair of sandals serves a purpose. Let alone a Captain of the Gotei 13."
"You can take over his 5th Division," Aizen continued. "I've got use for the man himself."
Akira gave him a knowing glance.
"An experiment?"
"Exactly."
Aizen's voice didn't rise, but it sharpened.
"I've been combing through the Academy's archives," he continued. "Even consulted Shiba Isshin and Ukitake Jūshirō—both seasoned captains."
"They all agree: a Shinigami's Reiatsu reaches a plateau after a certain point. From then on, growth slows to a crawl. That stagnation might last a decade, a century, or even millennia."
"And not just Reiatsu. Everything—Zanjutsu, Kidō, Shunpo, Hakuda—it all slows down."
His face took on an uncharacteristic seriousness.
"If we take Reiatsu alone, I estimate that once mine reaches tenfold what it is now, I'll hit that ceiling. Past that, the increase becomes fractional—sluggish."
"It's a fixed boundary, common to all Shinigami. Even the Hollows—Arrancar and Espada alike—hit the same limit. It can only be surpassed through external intervention."
"Even Bankai, which multiplies Reiatsu by five to ten times depending on compatibility, only brings you to that threshold. It doesn't break it. It's meaningless after that point."
There was a faint bitterness to Aizen's words.
A dissatisfaction not with others—but with himself.
For being unable, even now, to grasp the next height.
Akira casually nodded.
"So that's 60 Boxing Points."
Aizen blinked, momentarily thrown off.
"60… what?"
Akira smiled.
"Boxing Points. A measure I came up with to quantify combat strength. Reiatsu, Kidō, physical capability—it all feeds into it."
"I'm curious whether I'll stagnate at 60 like you, or if my ceiling is higher."
Aizen furrowed his brow, intrigued. "I've scoured the Academy's archives, and I've never encountered such a metric. 'Boxing Points'? Did you invent it?"
Akira gave no answer.
Aizen didn't press further.
But for the first time, a flicker of curiosity—not suspicion—sparked in his eyes.