"Teacher, uh… cough… is that restless kid Kisaragi Akira?"
A slightly weak voice echoed from the elevated platform. The speaker's face was pale, his body seemingly drained from some unseen deficit.
"Yeah, that's him."
Yamamoto's eyes narrowed as he watched Kisaragi Akira fidget in the seating area below, unable to stay still for even a moment. An unexpected twinge of embarrassment ran through him.
"To receive Lord Mimihagi's recognition… he truly is exceptional," Shirofuchi Jūshirō remarked in awe. "Not only is his talent astonishing, but he remains composed under pressure, calm and natural. That alone says so much."
Yamamoto's eyelids drooped as he replied dryly, "I just didn't warn the kid in advance."
"Otherwise, he wouldn't have sat there obediently at all."
Hearing that, Shirofuchi coughed violently, then forced a polite, slightly awkward smile. "I-is that so…"
"Quite unexpected, honestly." Yamamoto glanced at him with a knowing look. "Doesn't this scene seem familiar?"
Shirofuchi sighed with a hint of nostalgia. "Yes… it's hard to believe so many years have passed in a blink."
"The sight of Harumizu and me on graduation day… still vivid in my mind."
At that, Yamamoto's expression darkened subtly. To him, both Shirofuchi and Kyōraku were among his proudest disciples in the Genryū lineage. But Shirofuchi's health was always a concern. Maybe he should find time to ask the boy if Mimihagi had any instructions.
While Yamamoto pondered this, the graduation assessment officially began.
The first stage was the Zanpakutō combat test. Within the prescribed limits, the students had to demonstrate four foundational abilities and inflict damage within the required range.
This stage went off without a hitch—every student passed.
Next came the highlight of the day: the practical combat assessment.
Several seat officers appeared in the spacious dojo, acting as both examiners and nightmares for the students.
Many students froze upon seeing their opponents. For them, simply becoming a full-fledged Shinigami was already a success—facing a seat officer directly naturally induced fear.
As Shigya Genshirō called out the names, the examination officially began.
The moment combat started, several students were sent flying in a single blow, landing like dumplings in boiling water with a thud. The gap in strength was overwhelming; even reacting seemed impossible.
Thankfully, the officers restrained themselves, allowing the battles to continue.
Some students grit their teeth, glanced at the spectators on the platform, and reignited their fighting spirit. Clutching their Zanpakutō, they charged at the examiners with reckless determination, turning the battlefield into a tense and heated scene.
The first round ended quickly, most students carried out of the dojo for urgent treatment by Fourth Division members stationed nearby.
Then came the second and third rounds.
Kisaragi Akira blinked, watching the number of sixth-year students dwindle, before suddenly realizing:
"Souzuke… weren't we supposed to be the first batch?"
Aizen Souzuke glanced at him calmly. "Have you ever seen the opening act of a finale?"
Before Kisaragi could respond, Shigya Genshirō announced the end of the final round and introduced the main event of the day:
"Ladies and gentlemen, the preliminary graduation assessment for the top students will now commence. The first candidate is a first-year: Aizen Souzuke!"
Under countless gazes, a figure stepped gracefully into the center of the dojo, bowing respectfully to Yamamoto and the spectators above. His humility earned praise from the audience.
For polite students, most people responded with goodwill.
Aizen's examiner was again a seat officer, but one he could consider a familiar face—the seventh seat of the Kidō Corps, Shōda Bakugen. Both their temperaments were gentle, so even as combat approached, they maintained impeccable courtesy. They exchanged formal bows.
Then, much to Aizen's surprise, Shōda Bakugen drew his Zanpakutō and launched a direct attack. No frills—just sheer, overwhelming force, like a thunderbolt striking straight.
Aizen's eyes widened, responding with textbook-perfect maneuvers. As the model student, everything he performed at the Spirit Techniques Academy strictly adhered to the manuals: theory, Zanpakutō fundamentals, combat techniques.
Yet his attacks were terrifyingly sharp, the edge of his strikes blinding in their brilliance. Blades rained like torrents, filling the air with lethal intent. The wind howled as if a storm had descended on the dojo.
Watching the duel, the Shinigami in the audience were shocked, reassessing the level of a first-year on a preliminary graduation exam. Both spiritual pressure and swordsmanship were flawless.
On the platform, Unohana Retsu nodded in approval. She remembered Aizen as a polite, well-trained student with solid sword skills—and apparently, a good relationship with Kisaragi Akira. If given the chance, he might be persuaded to join the Fourth Division, which was becoming increasingly difficult to staff with elite talent.
But the fight continued, and Aizen soon fell under Shōda Bakugen's pressure. Despite his rank, Bakugen's swordsmanship rivaled mid-tier officers of the Thirteenth Division.
From the preparation area, Kisaragi Akira cupped his hands around his mouth, shouting:
"Aizen-sensei, don't force it!"
"Hit him through the center!"
Hearing this, Aizen momentarily lost focus, his flawless swordwork faltering, nearly allowing Shōda to finish him with a seamless combo. He had to resort to Kidō to regain control.
Though he already had the endgame in mind, Aizen refused to lose quickly. Demonstrating his skill was crucial to securing influence within whichever division he joined.
As he unleashed more of his power, Shōda Bakugen was forced to retreat, recognizing the danger of continuing unchecked. He released his Zanpakutō, transforming the blade into a massive iron rod. The next strike sent Aizen flying several meters.
"Souzuke, be careful," Shōda warned. "After release, the weapon becomes extremely heavy. If you can't handle it, consider withdrawing from the exam early. Your performance is already graduation-worthy."
Aizen nodded, silent, and drew his sword again, advancing with precision. The duel raged on for a long time, continuing until the spectators' palms were slick with sweat.
Shigya Genshirō finally called the match, and both combatants lowered their Zanpakutō, bowing respectfully.
The students and officers alike gazed at Aizen with awe and admiration. Strength commands respect wherever it appears.
"This is the difference between genius and ordinary people… utterly hopeless."
"Facing a monster like that, you can't even think about struggling…"
"I wonder which division he'll join—can't wait to see the captains fight for him."
Even the seated captains were impressed.
"As expected, geniuses recognize each other," Shirofuchi said, reminded of his own friendship with Kyōraku Harumizu. Aizen and Kisaragi Akira mirrored his past relationship with Harumizu, though sadly, Harumizu couldn't attend today due to missions.
Aizen bowed to the platform again and returned to the preparation area.
"Too bad, Souzuke," Kisaragi Akira muttered regretfully. "If you'd listened to me and hit him through the center earlier, the match would've been over."
Aizen ignored the eccentric comment, scanning the dojo with puzzled eyes. Normally, the final act should now appear—but there was no movement. Had he guessed wrong?
With that uneasy thought, Aizen watched as Kisaragi Akira stepped into the center of the dojo. For some reason, seeing his silhouette sent a shiver down his spine, as if he were facing an inescapable path.
Indeed, spending so much time with this guy had made him slightly paranoid. Shaking his head, Aizen dismissed the thought. After all, Kisaragi Akira was Yamamoto's disciple. No real danger should arise.
When Kisaragi Akira took his position, no immediate opponent appeared. Then, at the edge of the dojo, Shōda Bakugen appeared again, hands forming seals as he chanted. A massive surge of spiritual pressure emanated from him, and a flowing river of Kidō light spread across the dojo.
Several members of the Kidō Corps stationed themselves around the corners, merging their spiritual pressure into the light to form an impenetrable barrier.
"This… such an array?!" Kisaragi Akira hissed, sensing something amiss. "No way… did Old Man Yamamoto come himself?" Memories of training with him made the corner of his eye twitch.
As he muttered, Shigya Genshirō looked down with pity, warning:
"Kisaragi, be careful. Your opponent is…"
"The sinner of the Seventh Depths of the Penance Palace, former vice-captain of the Eleventh Division, Shiraki Shinichi!"
At that, the massive doors at the front slammed open, and a towering figure emerged from the darkness. The sheer presence of Shiraki Shinichi pressed down on the entire dojo.
His arms alone were thicker than Kisaragi's thighs, and his muscles looked almost monstrous. Standing still, he radiated an oppressive aura that seemed to constrict the air itself.
Even taller than Shōda Bakugen, who maintained the Kidō barrier, this sudden appearance stunned the audience. Members of the Eleventh Division recognized the former vice-captain, whispering in alarm:
"Shiraki Shinichi… he's still alive?"
"That guy's temper is notorious… I can't believe he survived."
"Why would Director Genshirō assign a monster like this as an examiner? Does he hold a grudge against Kisaragi?"
In the center of the dojo, the tall and short figures locked eyes, neither willing to yield. Shiraki's lips twisted into a grotesque grin beneath the bulging muscles.
"You little brat, what's your name?"
"Doesn't matter. Do you know what they promised me?" He gestured toward the spectators. "Kill the opponent, and I get a chance to fight a true warrior! I've been waiting for this opportunity a long time!"
His spiritual pressure surged like a tidal wave, even weakened by the Kidō barrier.
Kisaragi Akira did not flinch. On the contrary, under the immense pressure, his blood stirred like a volcano long restrained, ready to erupt.
"Old Man Yamamoto isn't foolish enough to do this without reason," he thought. "If this is arranged, there must be a purpose."
Though he hadn't studied with Yamamoto long, he knew the master cared deeply. Harsh as his methods might be, they were effective. Yamamoto had trained many captains and had a unique teaching approach—and Kisaragi sensed genuine concern from him.
"Shiraki Shinichi, huh?" Kisaragi mimicked Yamamoto's style, removing his jacket and tying it around his waist, revealing a perfect upper body. "I don't know how you offended Yamamoto. But everyone knows I'm first in Genryū tradition for respecting my teacher, so I might come down a bit harder. Don't take it personally…"