Toshiaki Aoki walked and looked at the backs of Captain Yuta and the Vice-Captain. Seeing those two composed and sharply dressed figures, he felt a silent pride settle in his chest.
Their upright posture and the calm expressions on their faces gave off the impression of people indifferent to worldly distractions-individuals who carried themselves as if everything around them was already within their grasp.
Perhaps someone of that caliber would one day emerge from the Kidō Corps as well.
…
At that moment, in Squad 11-
Swordsmanship competition was in full swing.
In the arena stood Hinamori Momo and Ise Nanao.
Both women were fond of reading, often meeting as friends to read together in their free time, but now they faced each other head-on in the middle of the snow-covered stage.
Ise Nanao, slender in frame with violet eyes and thin-rimmed glasses, kept her bangs pinned to the right with care. Her demeanor held the refined confidence of someone intellectually distant from those around her.
Hinamori Momo, petite and appearing harmless at first glance, wore her hair wrapped neatly in white cloth trimmed with rose lace at the back of her head-a gentle appearance in stark contrast with the blade in her hand.
Where Ise Nanao relied on Kidō techniques to maintain distance, Hinamori responded with fast footwork, dodging with steadily increasing pressure as she sought any opening to close the gap with her Zanpakutō.
From the stands, Yachiru leaned forward, gripping onto Zaraki Kenpachi's uniform with both hands as she lay across his shoulder.
"It looks like Hinamori Momo is at a disadvantage."
Yachiru, however, knew better-Momo had far greater stamina than most understood. She had survived worse. Even Aizen Sōsuke hadn't managed to finish her off with one blow.
Zaraki Kenpachi ignored the match entirely. He watched restlessly across the field with narrowed eyes, scanning the audience and arena for any sign of Yuta. When he found nothing, his dissatisfaction grew heavy; he radiated suppressed pressure that made the nearby squad members react instinctively.
Seated to the side, Madarame Ikkaku and Yumichika Ayasegawa slowly backed away from their captain with caution.
Yumichika, the feathered ornament above his right brow glittering from the tension in the air, wiped away cold sweat. "Did Captain Zaraki get worked up over someone again? He looks impatient."
Madarame, bald and red-eyed with narrow slits for pupils, rested his Zanpakutō on his shoulder and said, "Obviously. Everyone here is too weak. No one's giving the captain the fight he wants."
As the match continued below, Hinamori seized on Ise's mistake while she was mid-incantation. Reacting quickly, she closed the distance and swung her blade the moment Ise dropped her guard.
Caught too close to respond properly, Ise was forced to take the blow-her arm grazed by the edge of Hinamori's Zanpakutō.
With the point scored, Hinamori quickly stepped in to catch her opponent with one arm and began healing the injury with Kidō. "Are you alright, Nanao?"
"I'm fine, Momo," Nanao replied while pushing her glasses back into place. Her calm tone didn't waver in the slightest. "I'm happy you fought with full strength. I've been looking forward to this for some time."
Momo smiled gently. "Nanao, if only you had your Zanpakutō… I'm sure you'd be stronger than me."
"I wonder where Captain Aizen went… He left after handling some team matters this morning. He only told me to contact him if needed…"
Nanao raised her palm and lightly patted Hinamori's head. "Don't worry. I'm sure he had important business to attend to."
"Mm." Momo nodded firmly-her trust in Aizen unshaken.
Next to step into the ring were Matsumoto Rangiku and Kira Izuru.
Kira had distinct features: bright yellow hair, long bangs falling to the left, and his left eye concealed beneath the strands-his blue right eye alone visible. The direction of his hair was the opposite of Nanao's: his hung over the left, hers swept to the right.
Both wore standard Shinigami uniforms, with Rangiku's noticeably looser due to her larger frame. Even dressed in the standard issue, her figure remained unmistakable.
Kira rested his hand on his Zanpakutō. "Looks like you didn't get much sleep last night, Miss Matsumoto?"
Rangiku yawned with one hand over her mouth. "It's not that I didn't sleep… I just had too much fun. Someone's technique left me… sore."
She felt remnants of numbness in her cheeks even after rising and brushing her teeth-signs of how drained she was from the evening before.
"Shall I go easy on you?"
"Ah…" Rangiku stretched her arms before lowering them again. "No-I want you to come at me with full strength."
"Alright," Kira said, his tone growing steely as he drew his weapon.
When the signal came, both fighters drew their Zanpakutō and clashed immediately.
Their blades met with no delay, neither one attempting to test the other with light feints. It wasn't their first sparring match-usually, it ended in stalemates. Their strengths had long been seen as roughly even.
At least, until today.
When the swords crossed, Rangiku's weapon exploded with spiritual pressure far beyond what Kira expected.
In one breathless instant, he was thrown backward as if struck by cannon fire, his body sliding across the ground and cutting through rock and dust before coming to rest over one hundred meters away.
Crushed stone littered his path, and torn earth lay beneath him.
Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth as he coughed violently. The fabric of his handguard had split open-and blood ran from his palm where the blade had cracked the skin between his thumb and index finger.
He stared at his hand, stunned-not from the pain, but from the realization.
He had been defeated in one strike.
When had Rangiku grown this strong?
Could it be that her spiritual power had risen to fourth-level?
Typically, vice-captains hovered between fourth and fifth-level spirit power. Third-level and above marked captain-class strength. Only days ago, both he and Rangiku had measured at fifth-level.
Now?
Rangiku stood tall, her expression blank as realization settled in. She hadn't intended to strike that hard. She had only swung her sword as usual-and this was the result.
Had her spiritual pressure truly climbed?
Warmth spread from her abdomen to every limb, seeping into her bones. It wasn't unpleasant-it felt like energy being absorbed deep into her soul. Every inch of her body responded to the flow eagerly.
Was it really happening? Was she advancing to the next level?
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PS GOALS: 150 PS= 5-10 extra chapter on an update.
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