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"How bad is it?"
Yoruichi stood at Akira's bedside with her arms folded tightly across her chest, brows drawn together in a deep frown as she stared at his right hand.
Layers upon layers of bandages wrapped around it—so thick it practically looked like a giant rice dumpling.
"For an ordinary Shinigami—no, even for a Captain—this would be considered a critical injury."
Unohana Reiyu gently tucked the blanket around Akira and explained in her usual soft, soothing voice.
"Amputation would normally be the only option for recovery."
"But Kisaragi-kun's body is… unusual. His regeneration is far superior to ordinary Shinigami. As long as he stays in the Central Medical Wing for a few months, he should make a full recovery."
"As for aftereffects—there shouldn't be any."
Yoruichi's frown somehow grew even deeper. Her long, sharp eyebrows nearly touched.
She knew Akira far too well. Making him stay in a hospital room for "a few months"…
That was basically a prison sentence.
No—worse than prison. He'd probably go insane.
"There's really no other treatment?" Yoruichi asked.
Unohana hesitated, then frowned slightly.
"It's not that there isn't one. It's that… I personally never learned it."
"As the head of the Shihōin family, you should know the name Kirinji Tenshirō, shouldn't you?"
Yoruichi's eyes widened. She smacked her right fist into her left palm with a crisp snap.
"You're talking about the Hell Hot Springs?"
Unohana nodded.
"The Hell Hot Springs is a highly advanced healing technique created by Kirinji Tenshirō. Its nature is a transformation of spiritual pressure."
"By creating a pressure differential, it purges blood and injuries from the bather's body. Its effectiveness far surpasses all other forms of Kaidō."
"Unfortunately, because of incompatible affinities, I was never able to learn it…"
She didn't even finish before Yoruichi vanished in a flash step, leaving the two behind.
Unohana blinked, then sighed helplessly.
"She's already a clan head and a Captain, yet still this impulsive… Can that child really handle such responsibility?"
Before she could continue, a knock sounded at the door.
With Unohana's permission, the door slid open and several figures entered the room.
The sight of them made even Unohana blink in surprise—Akira's eyes widened.
"Captain-Commander Yamamoto."
Unohana bowed her head politely.
"How's your recovery?" Yamamoto asked in his deep, gravelly voice—stern and expressionless as ever.
He didn't look like he was visiting a patient.
More like he was inspecting a prison cell.
"Pretty good, actually. My hand's just… kinda ruined for now."
Akira raised his bandage-wrapped hand like he was waving hello.
Yamamoto's body stiffened. His expression darkened.
A wave of regret crashed in his chest. Countless memories flashed through his mind.
Is this boy's Shinigami career… about to end?
"Oh—just for a few months," Akira added casually. He shook the numb right hand and sighed.
"Guess I won't be able to come to First Division for training for a while."
"Eh? Why does your face look like that, old man?"
Yamamoto: "?"
His blood pressure spiked.
He thought Akira's career was over.
He thought the boy would never hold a sword again.
And all it amounted to was a few months of bedrest?
If this weren't a hospital, he would've given Akira a "lesson he'd never forget."
He'd settle the score after the boy healed.
After a few curt instructions, Yamamoto left.
Given the current situation, it was already remarkable that the Commander could spare time to visit.
It showed just how highly he valued Akira.
Not long after he left, two more visitors entered.
One was Kuchiki Ginrei.
The other—a young man Akira had never seen before.
Handsome.
Bright green eyes filled with curiosity.
Wearing noble ornaments exclusive to the Kuchiki main house—
But his scarf was red instead of white.
That reminded Akira of someone.
The genius who became famous for annihilating rebel forces during the civil war…
The Shinigami Slayer…
The adopted son of the Kuchiki family…
The third seat of the Sixth Division—
Kuchiki Hibana.
Compared to Hibana, Akira's own "genius" title was practically nothing.
If not for the recent rebellion, many in Soul Society wouldn't have even heard of Akira's name.
But Hibana was different.
Because of his position, he had been the main force of the Kuchiki family in the rebellion.
His swordsmanship, Hakuda, Hohō, Kidō—everything was elite-level.
Even Captains preferred not to fight him head-on.
His Zanpakutō was far too strange.
While Akira observed Hibana, Hibana was staring curiously at him.
Ginrei had already told him—
The boy lying on the bed was the biggest contributor in the rebellion's resolution.
He was the one who sent crucial intel about the rebel movements.
Thanks to him, the Kuchiki family won decisively.
What a good kid, Hibana thought, his gaze softening.
Akira noticed the friendliness and blinked.
Why was this guy suddenly being nice to him?
He remembered the last people who acted nice out of nowhere:
Unohana.
Yoruichi.
Senjumaru.
And every single one of them…
Wanted his body.
Akira violently shook his head, trying to erase that terrifying thought.
Too dangerous…
Ginrei, watching silently, couldn't guess what was running through the boy's mind—and that bothered him deeply.
Strange. He doesn't seem complicated, yet I cannot read him at all.
"Kisaragi-dono, how is your injury?" Ginrei asked.
"Not bad. A few months and I'll be good." Akira replied calmly.
"That is good. Then I am relieved."
Ginrei's visit was partly courtesy—and partly to express goodwill.
"If you ever need assistance, the Kuchiki family will not ignore your contribution."
Akira grinned.
"Sounds good. I'll keep that in mind."
He didn't need anything now.
But in the future? Who knew.
Ginrei didn't stay long. After polite farewells, he and Hibana left the room.
From Unohana's earlier explanation, Akira learned that the adjacent room was occupied by Kuchiki Sōjun—the eternally unlucky noble.
During the attack, he'd been injured blocking the rebels.
His recovery time would probably be even longer than Akira's.
Soon after, one group after another arrived to visit:
Ukitake Jūshirō.
Kyōraku Shunsui.
Gojō.
Members of Eleventh Division…
Akira wasn't a Captain yet, but in the eyes of many Shinigami, he might as well be.
Who else had ever killed the head of a Great Noble Family?
In Soul Society's million-year history, how many dared lay a finger on the Five Great Families?
And also—
Who else dared talk back to the Captain-Commander daily?
Who was Kenpachi again?
We only recognize the Chief Priest!
When most visitors finally dispersed and the room fell quiet, one last figure walked in.
Akira sensed someone approach, turned, and grinned.
"Took you long enough, Aizen."
"Good thing I asked someone to notify you at Twelfth Division."
Aizen looked at the thick bandages covering Akira's hand and sighed.
"You could have handled the enemy another way, you know. But no—you choose the most dangerous, most self-destructive option."
"Do you have a grudge against your own body?"
Before, Akira only abused his brain.
Now he abused his body too.
Aizen genuinely suspected Akira came to this world with the sole purpose of killing himself.
If Kanyashiro had been a little stronger, Akira might've ended up killing himself without the enemy's help.
"I mean… it worked out," Akira offered with a nervous laugh.
"You said not to let old man Yamamoto kill Kanyashiro, so I figured I'd finish it quickly."
"So I suddenly thought—why not combine White Lightning, Red Fire Cannon, and Blue Flame Drop into a single point and fire it like… a bone strike?"
"Yeah, the recoil was awful, but the result was amazing."
"Kanyashiro didn't even leave a last word. Instant death. Ash. Gone with the wind—"
He spoke more and more enthusiastically until he met Aizen's cold, deadpan stare.
Akira coughed and shut up.
"Take it as a lesson," Aizen said.
"Stay in the Medical Wing. Think about your life choices."
"Otherwise, next time will be even worse."
Akira looked betrayed.
He had been counting on Aizen's "black-tech miracles" to fix him.
"Sōsuke! Heal me!"
"If I stay here any longer, I'll turn into a cripple!"
"I don't want to rot away in this bed!"
His wailing immediately drew Unohana from the hallway.
She stood by the window with a gentle smile, her serene voice floating into the room.
"Kisaragi-kun… do you dislike the Medical Wing that much?"
The temperature in the room plummeted.
A murderous aura surged like a tidal wave.
…
Shihōin Estate.
Yoruichi flash-stepped into the study and immediately began searching the bookshelves.
Volume after volume piled into a mountain beside her.
Soon, she had a stack of books spread across her desk, flipping page after page with intense focus.
Ōmaeda Nishijin peeked in once, saw her seriousness, and left without disturbing her.
He closed the door quietly and exhaled, relief brightening his large round face.
Lady Yoruichi is studying on her own… Finally!
All my years of nagging weren't wasted!
Even though her choice of friends was questionable, she was at least correcting her path.
Or so he thought.
From inside—
"Found it! Only twelve books! I'm a genius!"
"Akira's hand can be saved!"
BANG!
The door flew open as Yoruichi burst out, nearly colliding with Nishijin.
"Oh, Nishijin. Perfect timing. I'm heading out—handle Second Division paperwork for me!"
Before he could protest, she was gone.
Nishijin stared numbly after her.
He truly thought she'd reformed.
But she'd been studying…
for someone else.
Joy to despair.
Hope to ruin.
That was his life.
"...Sigh…"
His lonely sigh echoed across the courtyard.
…
Evening—Yoruichi returned to the Medical Wing.
Inside the ward…
She placed a book in front of Akira like she was showing off a new toy.
"What's this?" he asked.
"Just read it."
Fighting the drowsiness, Akira forced himself to read.
Hell Hot Springs.
A Kaidō technique invented by Kirinji Tenshirō.
A hot spring created entirely from one's own spiritual pressure.
Its healing effects were unparalleled—able to regenerate flesh and bones, even pull someone back from the brink of death.
As long as a person still breathed—they could be saved.
It was practically the ultimate healing technique in Soul Society.
"As long as we create this, your hand will recover in no time!" Yoruichi said proudly.
"The materials are rare, but the Shihōin family can handle that."
"The only real problem is the spiritual pressure required."
"We need a Shinigami skilled in Kaidō and possessing tremendous spiritual power."
She frowned, glancing at Akira.
"But someone like that is extremely hard to find…"
"Maybe I should learn Kaidō myself?"
"No—by the time you master it, my injury will already be healed."
The dark-skinned girl struggled painfully with the problem.
Akira blinked at her, struck for the first time by the overwhelming difference in intelligence between them.
He couldn't believe it.
There was someone in Soul Society even dumber than him.
And she was right next to him.
"You know—"
Akira grinned.
"—doesn't Captain Unohana meet all those requirements?"