Ōmaeda Nishinoshin was not like his son a hundred years later, who'd become an internet meme known mockingly as "Former God." This current vice-captain of Squad 2 was, frankly, the real deal.
The moment he used [Shunpo] to step into the center of the field, only a handful among the graduates—namely Nagasawa Masaru, Kuchiki Byakuya, and Ichimaru Gin—had even caught a glimpse of his movement.
At the same time, as Ōmaeda took the stage, his Reiatsu swept across the room like Conqueror's Haki.
The already silent venue fell into a deeper stillness, so quiet that one could hear a pin drop. Even those graduates who had been eagerly eyeing the vice-captain challenge as a shortcut to glory now looked like national-level champions of beating the retreat.
It made sense. The true prodigies, the ones granted seated positions during internships, wouldn't dare show off in front of their future comrades.
As for the opportunistic dreamers—whatever delusions they had evaporated the moment they felt the weight of Ōmaeda's spiritual pressure.
One-in-a-million geniuses were rare for a reason.
Seeing no one step forward after his dramatic entrance, Ōmaeda furrowed his thick brows and grunted in dissatisfaction.
"Is this really all the graduates this year have to offer? What a bunch of cowards."
"Being a Soul Reaper isn't child's play. If this is your level, you'd better head back to the Academy for another year."
Upon hearing this, aside from Byakuya and Gin who still looked as calm as ever, the rest of the students were visibly burning with shame and anger.
Some of the more hotheaded ones even gripped the hilts of the Asauchi at their waists with trembling hands.
But in the face of overwhelming power, all that frustration and indignation turned into silent resignation.
No one took a step forward.
The gap in strength was just too great.
Under the spiritual pressure of a vice-captain, even standing still felt like being crushed. Just lifting a foot took monumental effort.
Still, a flicker of stubbornness and defiance remained in their eyes.
"Move, damn it! Why won't my legs work?"
"Somebody, anybody, challenge him!"
"Damn it... I'm not a coward!"
Anyone who could pass Shino Academy's six-year program was among Soul Society's elite. Strength may have made them aware of the gap, but it couldn't snuff out the fire burning in their hearts.
After all, what's youth without some hot-blooded pride?
"I'll do it."
Just as the graduates were clenching their teeth, determined to push through their own limitations to prove they weren't cowards, a voice—light as a breeze—cut through the silence and echoed through the hall.
Holy sh*t, a hero!
That just about summed up what every single Shino graduate was feeling right then. Even Byakuya's cool demeanor and Gin's amused expression gave way to curious glances.
From the crowd stepped a student clad in the Academy uniform, face hidden behind a cloth wrap.
But as he passed by his classmates, each frozen like a statue under Reiatsu pressure, even the teacher and students of Class 7 were dumbfounded.
"Saka... Sakamoto?!"
Shock swept through their ranks. None of them could believe that the one stepping up at this moment was the perennial underachiever.
Ignoring the astonished looks, Nagasawa Masaru kept walking forward as he slowly unwound the cloth from his face.
There was no need to keep up the disguise any longer.
Seeing someone finally accept the challenge, Ōmaeda couldn't help but show a look of satisfaction. In particular, he was impressed by the calm, steady gait of the masked student.
"Oh? Looks like we've got someone decent after all," he said approvingly.
Masaru didn't respond. He simply tossed the unraveled cloth aside, one loop at a time.
With that relaxed motion, he looked like a basketball ace taking off his warm-up jacket before entering the court.
In the eyes of the Shino graduates, his silhouette seemed to glow with a righteous light.
Hero enters.jpg
Ōmaeda raised an eyebrow at Masaru's silence but shrugged it off. Resting one hand on his hip and beckoning with the other, he said casually, "Kidō, swordsmanship, Hakuda—I don't care what you use. Just give me everything you've got—"
Before he could finish, before anyone on stage even realized it, the boy who had been standing at the center of the ring simply vanished.
In that instant, Ōmaeda's pupils shrank to needle-points, and a flash of intense danger sent his scalp tingling.
Let's be clear—Squad 2 was the stealth force of the Gotei 13. In terms of [Shunpo], Ōmaeda could confidently say that no other squad had better mastery.
Yet at this moment, one absurd thought surfaced in his mind.
This kid's Shunpo... might be scarier than the captain's?
The moment that ridiculous notion emerged, he shook it off.
No way. His captain was none other than Shihōin Yoruichi—the Flash Goddess herself. How could anyone be faster?
Still, even if his mind rejected it, his body responded on its own.
Ōmaeda instinctively tried to back away and create distance.
Unfortunately, he had completely underestimated Masaru.
Kirinji Tenjirō wasn't just some bathhouse guru.
Before he joined the Royal Guard thanks to his scrub-down techniques, he was known as Tenjirō of the Thunderclap. Even if you didn't want to argue whether Thunderclap was stronger than Flash Goddess, one thing was certain—Ōmaeda Nishinoshin couldn't hold a candle to either.
Everything happened in a blink. Before Ōmaeda could so much as move a muscle, a slender fist gently tapped him in the gut.
"!!!! @￥#%￥#...%...!@#"
Ōmaeda's brain short-circuited.
Mentally, physically, spiritually—he was done.
If no one saw how he entered the stage just moments ago
then no one saw how he exited either.
"Waaah!"
The teacher from Class 7 stood frozen.
The classmates who had just been comforting "Sakamoto Boss," worried that his poor health meant a bleak future, were frozen too.
Even the young prodigies Byakuya and Gin had their pupils contract in shock.
For one long moment, the entire venue was dead silent.