Akira!"
"I still underestimated his talent."
"I thought it would take him about nine months to graduate early from the Shin'ō Academy, but now it seems half a year may be too conservative."
Jūshirō Ukitake watched Akira accept the second volume of the Kidō Encyclopedia, a rare compendium that even captains and seated officers respected. Ukitake couldn't help but marvel.
[You obtained Kidō Encyclopedia Vol. II. Your Kidō is pleased, but resents interference in its cultivation.]
As the familiar prompt echoed in his consciousness, Akira immediately crushed the fleeting impulse to demonstrate Hadō #60: Kurosusui, and Bakudō #60: Gekitotsu Tōken, both among the more advanced and rarely-practiced spells due to their instability.
The craving to feed his obsession with spellwork flared within him, but he resisted. It was better to let Kidō evolve autonomously.
[Your Kidō has completed study of Kidō Encyclopedia Vol. II. After undisturbed practice, it has mastered Bakudō #61: Rikujōkōrō.]
Sensing his restraint, the Kidō responded. As if to chastise his earlier hesitation, it fired off Rikujōkōrō—the Six Rods of Light Prison—slamming it squarely in his face as a backhanded gift.
"I just set down Volume I," Akira muttered, rubbing his cheek, "and my Kidō already internalized Hadō and Bakudō spells from 1 through 60."
"I've barely managed to replicate one technique above that threshold…"
"Maybe it's because from number 60 upward, the Kidō enter high-tier classifications?"
He paused, the realization dawning.
Spells below #60, even for unseated Shinigami, were considered intermediate at best. Akira had breezed through them in days, reproducing each incantation with and without chant, from Hadō #4: Byakurai, to Bakudō #26: Kyokko, and even the difficult-to-master Hadō #58: Tenran.
But above #60, the spells became exponentially more complex—techniques like Hadō #63: Raikōhō or Bakudō #75: Gochūtekkan required not just refined control, but massive reserves of Reiatsu and intense concentration.
Based on his current pace, Akira estimated it would take ten and a half months to master all Kidō up to #99—assuming no sleep. Abandoning incantation, or "casting without chant" as advanced Shinigami like Aizen or Tessai Tsukabishi once demonstrated, would cost him another half month of effort.
Chantless Kidō—while far faster—suffered severe reductions in potency if not executed with near-perfect spiritual pressure. True masters, like Captain Aizen or the late Captain Yamamoto, could cast Hadō #90: Kurohitsugi silently without loss of impact. But for most, chantless spells were more show than substance.
Step. Step.
Footsteps broke his reverie.
"Got something to say?" Akira asked without looking, his tone deliberately lazy.
"Student Kuchiki."
He leaned back against a nearby tree, tilting his head toward the approaching figure of Byakuya Kuchiki.
"You done with training?" he asked, tone light.
Byakuya's gaze flicked to the second volume of the Kidō Encyclopedia lying on the grass. His expression tightened.
"I haven't even scratched the surface," Akira said. "Only practiced one spell."
"Looks like I underestimated the difficulty of spells above #60."
"Well, they are high-tier Kidō after all."
His voice carried a hint of dry humor, but to Byakuya, the words hit like thunder.
"You already learned one?"
"The second volume is exclusively high-class Kidō—Hadō and Bakudō from 60 to 99," Byakuya replied, brows furrowing. "No one masters them on first reading."
Nearby, Shihōin Yoruichi, Komamura Sajin, and a few upperclassmen who overheard, all froze in astonishment.
"We were too careless," someone whispered.
"If Akira's telling the truth, he might not need six months—three would be enough," another added, voice hushed.
Ukitake exhaled through his nose, equal parts awe and disbelief.
"Captain Kyoraku always said surprises are meant to be rare," he muttered to himself. "But this one student has given me more surprises in two days than the Gotei 13 has in a century."
Byakuya remained rooted in place. Silent. Watching.
"Anything else?" Akira asked, studying him.
"I'll admit," Byakuya finally said, "you surpass me in Kidō."
"But the dignity of the Kuchiki clan will not be tarnished. I will return. And when I do, I will repay you, Zanpakutō in hand."
"Until then, Akira Sōsuke… don't grow complacent."
He turned sharply, the silver in his hair catching the light as he walked away without glancing back.
He still bristled from the loss, but carried himself with the calm pride expected of the Kuchiki heir.
"That turned out better than expected," Ukitake murmured to himself. "If Byakuya can finally let go of his temper and face adversity, he might truly become a head worthy of the Kuchiki name."
The bells of the Shin'ō Academy rang in the distance.
Later that evening, Akira and Sōsuke Aizen walked side by side toward their private dorms—reserved for top-ranking students.
None of the lower-ranked students dared approach them. Eyes followed, but no voices rose.
It left the two prodigies free to speak.
"Brother, did you notice?" Aizen said softly. "Byakuya's actions during morning Kidō weren't just provoked by your words."
"It was a calculated strike. He was trying to test something—he couldn't wait."
"You and I," he continued, "are no longer just students. We're now factors within the four noble houses' calculations."
"This was a probe. The next time, it will be a challenge."
"They sense something in us—perhaps power, perhaps potential. But whatever it is, they're afraid."
Aizen's smile was gentle, but his words sliced deep.
"As expected of you, the 'King of Kings,'" Akira thought, silently admiring him.
That morning's conflict, which seemed trivial, had already been dissected completely by Aizen—layer by layer. He had seen through not only Byakuya's motives, but his fears as well.
Perhaps even more than Byakuya himself did.