The sword light flashed!
Saitō's pupils contracted, and she quickly tilted her head, but the blade still grazed her face, leaving a shallow gash from which blood began to trickle. Her expression instantly became even more ferocious. She grabbed Haruto's wrist, raising her Zanpakutō for a lethal strike.
Haruto hadn't anticipated that she would be able to dodge a point-blank sneak attack. Caught off guard, his hand was seized, and he couldn't move. Just as Saitō's sword was about to descend, a large hand clamped down on her wrist.
Saitō's hand felt as if it were locked in an iron vise. No matter how she struggled, it remained motionless. She turned in shock to see Yamamoto Genryūsai holding her.
"What's the meaning of this?" Saitō roared.
Yamamoto's expression remained impassive. "You lost. This incense stick has already burned out."
Saitō looked at the burnt-out stick in Yamamoto's hand and shrieked, "So what? I'm going to kill this kid!"
Yamamoto's voice was cold. "You must honor your bet. Are you going to renege?"
The next second, a spiritual pressure like a volcanic eruption burst forth from Yamamoto, and a violent, oppressive force spread across the entire field. The madness in Saitō's eyes instantly turned to fear. Yamamoto released her hand, but she remained frozen in terror, her sword-holding hand trembling uncontrollably.
Not only Saitō, but Shihōin Chihiro, who had been watching from a distance, was also terrified by the overwhelming spiritual pressure. He had known Yamamoto was strong, but he had never expected him to be this strong.
"Hey, Old Man! Who exactly are you?" Saitō's forehead was slick with cold sweat.
"This Old Man's name is Yamamoto Genryūsai, known as the 'Demon of the Sword,'" Yamamoto said calmly. "Now, honor your bet. Haruto, well done. You are a worthy Vice-Captain."
You're too kind, Old Man! But next time, could you please discuss it with me first? Haruto looked at his Captain with a gaze that was a mix of respect and exasperation. He had almost been captured and enslaved by that crazy woman!
The four of them returned to the hall, where Chihiro had a new table of food prepared.
"What exactly does the Gotei 13 do?" Saitō asked.
"We are an assassination organization," Yamamoto explained. "Our targets are Hollows and Shinigami who cause unrest. In short, we will use extremely violent means to suppress this chaotic era and ultimately stand at the pinnacle."
Saitō's interest was piqued. "What you said sounds quite interesting! As long as I can cut things, it's fine, right?"
If you understand it that way, there's nothing wrong with it, Haruto thought. And so, in just half a day, the Gotei 13's ranks doubled from two to four.
"The Gotei 13 doesn't have its own territory yet," Shihōin Chihiro said grandly. "How about we temporarily use the Shihōin clan's estate as our base?" As one of the Five Great Noble Clans, the Shihōin clan had no shortage of resources.
Yamamoto, also troubled by the lack of a base, agreed.
"Let's go! Prepare a place for us to rest!" Yamamoto said, dragging Haruto out.
"Wait… I haven't eaten yet…" Haruto's stomach, which had finally settled after his strenuous fight, was ready to feast, but he was being pulled away. He couldn't help but feel a pang of regret as he stared at the fresh seafood on the table. If only I hadn't eaten that sweet potato!
When they arrived at the resting place, Yamamoto adopted an old-fashioned, professorial tone. "Haruto, do you regret eating that sweet potato? This is a lesson I wanted to teach you: one must never give up the future for small, immediate gains. I hope you will always remember this lesson."
Haruto hadn't expected Yamamoto to have ulterior motives for doing this. He truly was the man who would one day found the Central Academy of Spiritual Arts. In some ways, he was indeed a good teacher.
"I also observed your battle," Yamamoto continued gravely. "Your talent is very high, perhaps even higher than mine. You are an unpolished jade. If left untended, you will be difficult to shape. Starting tomorrow, I will train you thoroughly, striving to make you a qualified Shinigami in a short period of time."
Haruto, of course, would not refuse. In this world, the higher one's strength, the greater their hope of survival. He knew that a great war concerning the very existence of Soul Society—the Quincy invasion—would soon break out. The brutality of this conflict, which marked the beginning of the Shinigami and Quincy enmity, was beyond doubt. To continue his plan of slacking off and waiting for retirement, he first had to survive that war.
"Alright, go rest. Training begins tomorrow," Yamamoto said.
Shinigami training, Haruto thought, his mind instinctively turning to Ichigo. Will I be training my Zanpakutō's Shikai and Bankai? He looked at his sword under the moonlight. No matter how he looked at it, it was just a very ordinary Asauchi.
Never mind, tonight I can finally get a good rest. Ever since he came to Soul Society, he hadn't had a proper night's sleep in the chaotic Rukongai, constantly fearing his head would be cut off while he slept. The private room the Shihōin clan had arranged for him was a wonderful luxury.
As Haruto lay on the bed, pondering his future, he felt the reishi in the surrounding air slowly being absorbed by his body. Startled, he thought something was wrong. Logically, Shinigami should not have the ability to control reishi; that was a Quincy specialty.
The foundation of a Shinigami's power was spiritual pressure. Shinigami battles were battles of spiritual pressure. However, after the Thousand-Year Blood War began, the Quincy shattered the "spiritual pressure invincibility theory" by fighting with reishi from their surroundings, not needing powerful spiritual pressure themselves. This, coupled with their unique rule-based abilities, caused the Shinigami to suffer great losses.
Now, with his body constantly absorbing reishi, a terrifying thought appeared in Haruto's mind.
"Am I not a Shinigami at all? Is my true identity a Quincy?"
The thought sent a wave of panic through him. While the rules of Soul Society were corrupt, the Gotei 13 at least treated lower-ranking Shinigami as people. The leader of the Quincy, however, would abuse and kill his subordinates at the slightest disagreement. After the war, the MVP with the highest output against the Quincy was Yhwach. Would anyone dare to work for such a person?