Chapter 158: You Used Ryūjin Jakka For This?
Heavy rain connected the heavens and earth of the Seireitei.
Though it was daytime, it was as dark as night.
Two figures carefully made their way along a long wooden corridor.
Walking in front was Satoru.
He moved with light steps, fully suppressing his Reiatsu, like a panther stalking its prey.
Following behind was Shunsui.
His expression was grave, and he occasionally raised a hand to adjust the straw hat on his head.
Through the deep V-neck of his robe, bandages could still be seen wrapped around his chest.
At the corridor's corner, Satoru came to a halt.
Leaning against the wall, he cautiously peered around to assess the situation on the other side.
A few seconds later, he glanced at Kyōraku and gave an OK hand signal.
Shunsui nodded lightly.
The rain continued to fall, and the atmosphere was far from relaxed.
The two of them utilized all their skills to remain hidden within the mansion.
Finally, they stopped before a door.
'Are you ready?'
Satoru asked with his eyes.
'Don't worry, no problem!'
Shunsui curled the corner of his mouth into a cruel smile.
In the next moment, both of them moved simultaneously.
Whoosh!!
The sliding door was flung open.
With an expression as cold and menacing as a demon, Shunsui instantly charged into the room, reaching for a figure caught completely off guard.
However, the target was no ordinary opponent.
Faced with what was essentially a surprise attack from Shunsui, the person reacted swiftly after a brief moment of shock.
"Enkōsen!!"
Raising a hand, they unleashed a Kidō spell—number thirty-nine—without any incantation.
A circular shield of light materialized out of thin air, blocking Shunsui's path.
Though Shunsui reacted quickly, changing direction the moment the shield appeared, he was still a fraction too slow.
The target had already turned and was dashing toward the window.
Pushing the window open, a faint smirk curled at the corner of their lips.
Did Shunsui really think he could catch them?!
Then, they saw another figure appear outside the window.
CRACK!!
A flash of lightning illuminated the figure.
Half-shadowed face, bearing a smile far more cheerful than his own.
Seeing that face, he nearly screamed in fright.
The terror was comparable to turning on the lights at night and finding Freddy Krueger standing in the room.
In that instant, Satoru burst through the window with a loud laugh, pinning him to the ground.
"Kekekeke! Let's see where you can run now!"
After securing his target, Satoru lit the oil lamp in the room using his shadow.
The soft glow illuminated the three people in the room.
The white-haired handsome man pinned beneath Satoru was none other than Jūshirō Ukitake.
However, he wasn't wearing his Shinigami Uniform and haori, but rather a white patient gown.
Shunsui adjusted his straw hat and grinned.
He quickly walked over to help Satoru hold down Jūshirō's legs.
"No... Kyōraku, Satoru, you can't do this to me!"
"We're fellow disciples, we should take care of each other! We mustn't fight among ourselves and become laughingstocks!"
Satoru sighed. "Sorry, senior brother, I don't want to rebel against my superior... but the other side is just too strong, I have no choice!"
Hearing his words, Jūshirō felt deeply distressed.
Under Jūshirō's desperate gaze, Satoru loudly declared:
"I've caught Senior Brother Ukitake!!"
"My, that's wonderful."
At some point, a figure had appeared at the doorway.
Illuminated by the lightning, her silhouette was even more terrifying than Satoru's had been moments before.
Retsu Unohana smiled gently as she approached Jūshirō and knelt beside him.
"Captain Ukitake, it won't do to not take your medicine properly."
Jūshirō was on the verge of tears.
Looking at the medicine bowl in Retsu's hands, he made one last attempt: "At least... change it to the usual medicine! This medicine is just too strange!"
Normally, his medicine was bitter but still drinkable.
But this medicine's flavor was indescribable.
Bitter, spicy, sour, salty - every flavor taken to its extreme.
A single sip felt like descending straight into hell.
Despite having been ill for centuries and having consumed more medicine than young Shinigami drink water, he was still filled with dread toward this particular concoction.
Retsu maintained her smile.
"That won't do."
"If Captain Ukitake had quietly rested as prescribed, of course you could have taken the ordinary medicine."
"But you disregarded medical advice and led your squad to suppress the rebels. The strenuous activity caused significant damage to your condition."
"If you don't want to fall seriously ill and be bedridden for several more years, please take your medicine properly."
Jūshirō still wanted to negotiate, but Satoru and Shunsui had lost their patience.
Each grabbing one of his arms, they pulled his upper body upright.
Then, Satoru pinched Jūshirō's cheeks:
"Captain Unohana, no need for more discussion with him! Proceed!"
Retsu nodded with a smile.
Under the rainy sky, Jūshirō's agonized screams echoed throughout the Fourth Division.
...
...
Having "dealt with" Jūshirō, Satoru and Shunsui returned him to his sickroom.
Jūshirō lay on the bed, moaning pitifully.
The two perpetrators, meanwhile, immediately set up a casual gathering right in his room.
"Satoru, how have things been with the old man Yamamoto lately?"
Shunsui produced a small sake flask from somewhere and poured some for both himself and Satoru.
Satoru grunted. "Not bad."
Shunsui chuckled, "What performance? Last time I passed by the First Division, I personally heard Old Man Yamamoto roaring."
"Judging by the Reiatsu fluctuations, after the scolding, there must have been a good beating!"
Hearing Shunsui's words, Satoru widened his eyes:
"Education... how can education be called scolding!"
Then followed a string of incomprehensible phrases like 'familiarizing with new moves doesn't count as getting beaten' and 'if you can get out of bed the next day, it doesn't count as getting beaten.'
The ward was instantly filled with a cheerful atmosphere.
Just as Shunsui had said, during the days Aizen was away, Satoru had suffered greatly.
Not long ago, during that four-way meeting, Yamamoto heard that he had defeated Kōga Kuchiki and was overjoyed.
The old man happily asked how Satoru had managed to defeat Kōga Kuchiki.
His first thought was that Satoru might have learned Bankai during the battle.
And not just any Bankai—a very powerful one with a bug-like ability.
Seeing Yamamoto so expectant, Satoru was straightforward.
Proudly, he explained the "Double Sōkotsu" he had created to Yamamoto.
He had expected Yamamoto to weep and declare he had taught a genius.
Instead, after hearing his explanation, Yamamoto nearly exploded with rage.
"Fool!"
"Your body hasn't fully developed yet. Using Sōkotsu recklessly is already irresponsible—it could leave hidden injuries... and that Double Sōkotsu far exceeds your limits!"
"I've told you so many times not to misuse this move, you fool! Not only did you not listen, but you went even further and developed a version using your feet?!"
"Why don't you just develop one using your head and smash your skull while you're at it?!"
"Though the Hell Hot Spring is a miraculous healing domain, overusing it will have side effects... and yours isn't even the original hot spring, just a replica!"
"If you keep this up, I'll be sending you off to your grave sooner rather than later!"
Under Yamamoto's furious gaze, Satoru scratched his head.
"Shinigami is already a profession with a high mortality rate... Considering the difference in our strength, isn't it normal for you to send me off?"
That one sentence made Yamamoto's blood pressure skyrocket.
To make Satoru feel his rage, over the next few days, Yamamoto called him over daily and "educated" him thoroughly with his fists.
Sighing, Satoru picked up his cup and drank the clear liquid inside.
Setting the cup down, he stood up.
"It's about time for today's training... Kyōraku-senpai, I'll take my leave."
"Ukitake-senpai, take good care of yourself and drink your medicine properly."
Hearing this, Jūshirō let out a pained groan.
As Shunsui watched, Satoru left the room.
Whether it was an illusion or not, even though the guy was clearly heading off to get beaten, Shunsui sensed a hint of pleasure in his retreating figure.
It must be an illusion...
...
...
"Haah!!"
Yamamoto gripped the bamboo sword and slammed it down hard on Satoru's shoulder.
Though it wasn't any special technique, just an ordinary strike, it felt like a mountain crashing down.
Satoru didn't even have time to disperse the force before he was smashed into the floor.
Struggling a bit, he pulled his head out of the floor.
Gazing at Yamamoto, who stood not far away, sword in hand, exuding an immortal-like aura, he couldn't help but reflect.
Yamamoto was still Yamamoto—the man was truly in a league of his own.
Even after defeating Kōga Kuchiki, facing Yamamoto still left him with a sense of powerlessness.
It's all Sōsuke's fault! If he had sent me to the First Division back then and let the system bind with Yamamoto, I'd be invincible by now!
Splutter splutter!
Satoru quickly shook his head, scattering wood chips everywhere.
Then, gripping his bamboo sword, he pointed it at Yamamoto:
"Again!"
Yamamoto: "..."
Seeing Satoru covered in bruises, with even his face bearing numerous injuries, yet still full of energy, he suddenly felt a bit numb.
If it were Shunsui undergoing this level of training, he would have long been crying and admitting defeat.
But this kid? Not only was he not suffering, but he seemed to enjoy it more the longer they fought.
He suddenly recalled Retsu Unohana from centuries ago, before she changed her appearance.
If these two were put together, they'd probably create quite the chemical reaction...
"Teacher? Teacher?"
"Oh no, sudden onset of senile dementia?"
"What should we do... If the Captain-Commander has dementia, someone will have to fill the power vacuum temporarily."
"Fine then! As the Captain-Commander's disciple, I, Satoru, have no choice but to step up!"
"As acting Captain-Commander, my first decree will be that all female Shinigami must change their Shinigami Uniform pants to short skirts!"
Yamamoto: "?"
Watching Satoru enthusiastically pondering how to abuse his power, he directly blasted him with a wave of Reiatsu.
In the trembling air, Satoru was pressed flat into the floor, unable to get out.
Seeing Satoru struggle in pain, Yamamoto finally nodded in satisfaction and left the dojo.
A few minutes later, Satoru emerged from the dojo, covered in wood chips and with wounds from the floor's splinters.
By now, the rain had lightened considerably.
The air was cold, and Satoru shivered the moment he opened the dojo door.
At this rate of cooling, winter couldn't be far off.
Pulling at his collar, Satoru headed off to find Yamamoto.
After walking just a few steps, he caught a whiff of a familiar aroma.
A scent that could instantly transport one back to childhood memories.
Following the fragrance, Satoru traced its source.
He saw Yamamoto outside the study, under the eaves, roasting something over a fire.
Spotting food, Satoru broke into a smile and hurried over.
"Hey, hey, Sensei, what are you busy with? Need any help?"
Yamamoto glanced at him but didn't respond.
Unfazed, Satoru casually sat down beside him.
Yamamoto was roasting sweet potatoes, with one already cooked nearby.
Satoru chuckled, reached for it, peeled the skin, and took a bite.
The flesh was soft and fluffy, the aroma enticing—perfectly cooked.
Satoru couldn't help but admire it.
Old man Yamamoto's skills were truly impressive.
Even with just an open flame, he managed to recreate the taste of those large oven-roasted sweet potatoes from temple fairs in his childhood.
As he ate, he instinctively glanced at the fire used for roasting.
At that moment, he froze.
Beneath the sweet potato setup lay a sword.
A hilt wrapped in purple cloth, with a plain oval-shaped tsuba.
Most Shinigami rarely saw this blade, as it was usually concealed within Yamamoto's wooden cane.
But as the closed-door disciple, Satoru was all too familiar with it.
When Yamamoto was feeling lazy, Satoru had even oiled this sword for him.
Seeing it now, Satoru nearly spat out the sweet potato in his mouth.
"Ryūjin Jakka?!"
Yamamoto gave him a puzzled look.
"What's wrong?"
Satoru swallowed the sweet potato and said helplessly, "No, Sensei, this is the strongest Zanpakutō in the Soul Society. You're using it to roast sweet potatoes?"
"Is there a problem? I am the strongest Shinigami in the Soul Society, and here I am roasting sweet potatoes too."
Satoru stared at Ryūjin Jakka for a few seconds.
Then he shook his head and sighed:
"You should cherish your Zanpakutō more. They have consciousness too; treat them like family."
Yamamoto finally lost his composure.
Anyone else might have the right to criticize him on this matter, but what nonsense was this brat spouting?
...
...
Covered in bruises, Satoru returned to the Second Division.
With clear purpose, he swiftly navigated through the barracks.
Soon, he arrived in front of a small room.
"Hey! Kisuke! Are you in?!"
Standing at the door, he called out with a smile.
Silence filled the room.
Satoru nodded: "Good, then I'm coming in!"
Thud!
He pushed the door open and entered.
Kisuke: "?"
What the hell? What did he even say?
Where did this "good" come from?
Under Kisuke's "what the Soul King" gaze, Satoru grinned.
Combined with his bruised, swollen, and discolored face, the expression looked utterly terrifying.
"Kisuke, come with me for a bit?"
Kisuke: "..."
What was this about?
Had this demon Satoru suddenly changed his tastes, no longer interested in pretty little girls but now drawn to disheartened young men like him?
He instinctively took a step back: "No!"
Satoru's expression darkened, his smile vanishing.
"Come with me!"
He reached out, grabbed the despairing Kisuke, and turned to leave.