By the time Nishikawa rushed over, all that was left of the training hall was rubble.
It looked like lightning had plowed through it a hundred times—charred trenches crisscrossed everywhere, and parts of the structure had simply ceased to exist, their reishi dissipated into Soul Society's air.
In the long, stunned silence, dozens of Shinigami stood before the ruins, shocked beyond measure, scalps tingling.
None of them understood what had happened.
But to pull something like this off… surely only a captain-class monster could do that?
"You've got to be kidding…"
Cold sweat streamed down Nishikawa's forehead. His knees felt weak.
He stared blankly at the scene, wondering if his Reiatsu sense had just broken.
If he remembered correctly, this Reiatsu signature belonged to that brat Naraku Sora.
But the kid had barely been in the squad any time at all—how had things ended up like this?
He'd started as a mid-level seated officer. Just from escorting a pair of Adjuchas, his Reiatsu suddenly spiked, and he'd jumped straight into high-level seated territory.
Right after that breakthrough, he went head-on against an intruder who'd broken into the Intake Room. His brutal fighting style was enough to scare even a veteran like Nishikawa.
Then he became the Warden's personal clerk, sniffed out the Araki family's taboo research, and dragged Araki Shūto—the pillar of a high noble house—down into the underground prison.
At that point, Nishikawa had already stopped being able to understand how Naraku's strength was put together.
Now the kid was displaying power that could erase him from existence with ease—how could that not chill an old man's heart?
Sometimes…
The gap between two people is bigger than the gap between a person and a dog.
Especially when someone more talented than you is also working harder than you—it's enough to make you despair.
When Naraku walked out of the ruins, every Shinigami who looked his way had respect and awe in their eyes.
After greeting Nishikawa and the others, Naraku turned to study the collapsed training hall, a satisfied look on his face.
To so easily realize the technique he'd only just imagined—he'd definitely earned the "world-shaking genius" label.
Sure, the details still needed polishing, and there was still some distance to Yamamoto's Genryū.
But so what?
Ugly things can still hit hard. Small things can still be cute.
It was a small step for him, but a giant leap for swordsmanship and Kidō. The future was bright.
Since it was still early, Naraku asked Nishikawa to find him another vacant dōjō so he could cement his brand-new move.
Under a crowd of quietly despairing stares, the boy dove straight back into overkill training, practicing until the sky darkened and even the onlookers couldn't bear to watch anymore.
"The sun's already gone down. Time to rest."
"It's more than enough, Naraku. A lot of seated officers aren't even at your level anymore."
"The noise from your training is keeping everyone up. People still have work tomorrow, you know."
After much heartfelt persuasion, Naraku reluctantly sheathed his blade and left the hall, heading back to his quarters.
Everyone watched his retreating back with complicated expressions.
Damn it. How are we supposed to slack off peacefully with a grind freak like this around?
Naraku flopped onto his bed, limbs spread wide, exhaustion pulsing up from the depths of his soul.
A good start was half the battle.
The System had given him a rock-solid foundation, and he'd used his "world-class brain" to bring that foundation to life.
If that wasn't enough, he could always have the bad woman and Aizen scheme with him.
Three brains beat one Zhuge Liang—and these three were top-tier in pure intellect.
With those pleasant thoughts about the future, Naraku closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.
He didn't dream.
...
...
Under the same night sky, someone else stayed awake.
"Naraku Sora. From Rukongai. Entered the special class at the Spiritual Arts Academy due to outstanding talent. Had multiple disciplinary violations as a student, but nothing major."
"After graduation, he applied to be assigned to the Central Underground Prison and joined their ranks."
"On paper, the résumé is utterly ordinary. But everything he's done since joining has been… disturbing, to say the least."
In an old-fashioned manor in the Noble District, lit by oil lamps, a fresh intelligence report lay on the desk.
A masked Shinigami who'd just returned bowed and said gravely:
"It's precisely the fact that there's nothing to see that makes it so suspicious."
"If we ignore what happened after he joined the Central Prison, he's no different from any other graduate of his year."
The old man behind the desk paused, then frowned.
"You're saying… the résumé itself is fake?"
"Half real, half forged," the masked Shinigami replied. "My guess is that woman in the Central Prison is meddling behind the scenes."
"You know what she's like, sir."
"Even setting aside her personal combat ability, her scientific talent alone is enough to make nobles—and even us—envious."
"But her personality is impossible to read. Normal people can't even talk to her properly."
"And yet Naraku Sora became her direct subordinate the moment he joined. Even Kurotsuchi Mayuri never had treatment like that."
The old man stayed silent for a moment, thought glinting in his half-closed eyes.
"From the analysis, it's clear this boy and that woman, Shutara, have a relationship they can't make public. And to some degree, it's interfering with our plans."
"Just uncovering the secret of Elysium House is enough to show he's not an idiot."
"On the contrary, the fact he could trace the problem back to its source from scraps of evidence only proves how capable he is."
He took a deep breath, a more sinister edge creeping into his expression.
"In any case, his relationship with that Shutara woman is not simple."
The masked Shinigami hesitated, then added in a muffled voice:
"According to the intel from the Central Prison, ever since Naraku became a seated officer, Shutara Senjumaru's mood has been noticeably better."
"Sir, is it possible… she's fallen for him?"
The old man's eye twitched.
"Good thought. Don't have it again."
"If that woman really is the one pulling strings, we won't be able to dig up anything more detailed anyway."
"We'll leave it there. Just to be safe… eliminate him."
Naraku Sora hadn't ruined their plans—but he had gotten in the way.
Even though letting the Araki family burn and refining the original technology further had worked in their favor, an obstacle was still an obstacle. If they let him keep growing, he'd eventually block the road ahead.
The masked Shinigami backed away step by step until he melted into the room's shadows.
The old man stared out the window, his indifferent gaze fixed on the moon. The cold silver light hid the malice on his weathered face.
"Just a little more…"
~~~
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