Before long, the weekend arrived—the day Captain Unohana was scheduled to give her lecture.
Dressed neatly, Ichirō waved a casual goodbye to the still-sleeping Urahara and made his way toward the Fourth Division barracks.
But as fate—or rather, foolish people—would have it, trouble had a way of finding him.
"Excuse me, senpai, is there something you need? I'm in a bit of a hurry."
"Don't play dumb, kid." The tallest of the upperclassmen stepped forward with a sneer. "We heard you've been throwing your weight around, bullying someone just because you've cozied up to a couple of noble families. We're all from the Rukongai—no need to step on your own kind, eh?"
Ah, a classic development.
Ichirō had been cornered.
His ambushers were sixth-years, also from the Rukongai. Their names were familiar—Ten'nari Shirō, Noya Katsuki, and Murashita Kazue. Ichirō had heard of them back when he frequently visited his instructors to discuss Kidō. All three were infamous for fighting and causing trouble—the sort who made "Rukongai-born" sound like a slur.
Ironically, they now stood here spouting about "Rukongai solidarity," when the ones they usually picked on were other Rukongai students.
Ichirō's gaze swept lazily over the group until it landed on the man behind them—Suga, the very same troublemaker who'd once picked a fight in class.
Ichirō smiled faintly.
"Bakudō #4: Hainawa." ×4
In less than a second, four cords of reiryoku materialized, coiling tightly around the four men.
And before they could react—
"Bakudō #26: Kyokkō."
Light bent and shimmered; Ichirō's figure vanished completely, leaving the scene empty.
Normally, he might have entertained himself by humbling them further. But not today—Captain Unohana's class was far more important.
Moments later, the glowing ropes dissipated. The four men staggered free, and before Suga could open his mouth, Ten'nari Shirō swung his hand sharply across his face.
Smack!
"You picked a fight with a second-year who can cast Kyokkō without an incantation—and fire off four simultaneous unchanted Bakudō in a second? You've got a death wish?"
"I—I'm sorry, Shirō-san! I understand now!" Suga bowed so low his forehead nearly scraped the ground.
"Do you really?" Shirō's narrow eyes glinted with killing intent. He'd seen this type countless times—sniveling opportunists who threw others under the cart. He used to be one himself. Which was why he'd never let one live long enough to become a problem.
"Good. Then get lost."
He kicked Suga hard in the ribs, sending him sprawling. Without another glance, he turned and strode off with his two subordinates.
Once they rounded the corner, Shirō's face darkened.
"Boss," Murashita whispered. "You're just gonna let that Suga guy go?"
"Of course not. A man who drags others into his mess will only drag us down someday. Get him sent back to Rukongai—and tell the boys to… handle it." He drew his thumb across his throat.
Murashita nodded grimly. "Understood. What about that Tenshin Ichirō?"
"We'll check what he likes later. Tomorrow, we'll visit his class and apologize in person."
Murashita hesitated. "Isn't that a bit… extreme, boss? That'll wreck our reputation."
Shirō's gaze grew distant. "You didn't see it, did you? He canceled four Bakudō and invoked the twenty-sixth without a chant—in under a second. Do you think any of us could pull that off? Forget it. That kind of monster isn't someone we can afford to cross."
His hand brushed the long scar carved across his chest.
Once, Shirō had ruled an entire Rukongai district. He'd met the entry qualifications for the Academy years before but chose instead to stay behind, expanding his turf, becoming a local warlord.
Until that day—
A man with a blade had walked into his territory and cut his way from one end of the village to the other. Hundreds of his followers were struck down single-handedly. Shirō himself had barely survived a deep slash across his chest.
He could still remember that man's disappointed gaze before walking away.
From that moment, he understood: in Soul Society, strength is everything. The strong possess all, and the weak are dust beneath their feet.
As for Suga?
Trash like him didn't deserve to live. One "Ten'nari Shirō" was already enough for this world.
---
Meanwhile, hidden beneath the illusion of Kyokkō, Ichirō hurried toward the Fourth Division barracks. Captain Unohana's lectures were rare treasures—each one offered invaluable insight.
Even the technique he'd just used—simultaneous multiple unchanted Bakudō—was something he'd derived from her last session. It was a simplified version of an advanced Kidō skill that required extreme control.
Before long, he arrived at the division compound. Despite it being the weekend, the place was bustling. The Fourth Division ran on a rotation schedule; while one team rested, another remained on standby for emergencies.
And of course, when the captain herself was lecturing, no one wanted to miss it.
"Ah, Ichirō—you're here. Come over, we're about to start."
Unohana smiled warmly, beckoning him closer. Several division members glanced his way, their eyes filled with a mixture of admiration and envy.
It was no secret anymore—Unohana's favoritism was blatant. Since last week's Kaidō reform discussion, she'd begun mentoring Ichirō personally, calling him to her side even during regular duties, almost like a disciple.
...
The lecture began, as always, clear and methodical. But today, Ichirō couldn't help noticing something.
The topics were all practical experience and case analysis—less about theory or technique.
That realization tightened his chest.
If even Captain Unohana was shifting to experience-based teaching, then… perhaps there really wasn't much more she could teach him about Kaidō.
He could keep researching on his own, of course—but learning from the masters was always faster. Standing on the shoulders of giants allowed one to reach heights otherwise impossible.
---
After class, Unohana—as usual—called Ichirō aside. She accepted the cup of tea he poured for her and smiled gently.
"Well? How did you find today's lecture?"
"Simple and easy to grasp," Ichirō replied with his trademark half-grin. "Your experience never ceases to amaze me, Captain."
"Flatterer," she chuckled softly. "But you're right about one thing. In Kaidō, I can only offer you my experience now. Which is why…"
She took a small sip of tea and continued, her tone calm but deliberate.
"…after this, you'll accompany me to meet someone. Someone who can guide you further in the healing arts."
Ichirō blinked. "There's someone whose Kaidō surpasses even yours? Don't tell me—it's the Grand Kidō Chief?"
Unohana shook her head with a serene smile. "The Grand Kidō Chief's Kaidō is indeed formidable, but not greater than mine. No, the person we're meeting is someone else entirely."
Ichirō's pupils dilated slightly, a spark of realization flashing in his gaze. "Wait… don't tell me—it's a Royal Special Agent?"
Unohana's expression didn't change; only her smile deepened. "It seems you've been studying your academy texts well. Yes—the one we're visiting is none other than the founder of Kaidō, a Royal Guard member… and one of the captains of the Zero Division."
She set her cup down and said the name with quiet reverence:
"Kirinden's own Tenjirō Kirinji."
Ichirō's heart pounded.
So it's true… the Zero Division.