"What kind of weakness is that? And what are those tears supposed to be?!"
On the wide platform of the First Layer of the Central Prison, Reviving Hell, several prisoners stood trembling, staring in terror at the figure opposite them, too afraid to take even a single step forward.
Watching how pathetic they looked, Naraku Sora felt his temper spike.
"Come on, charge me!"
"If you manage to injure me, your meals double this week. If you beat me, I'll shave time off your sentence!"
Even with such generous terms, the prisoners stayed where they were, frozen in place.
No matter how good the reward, you had to stay alive to enjoy it.
The boy in front of them was a monster. His Reiatsu wasn't that much higher than theirs, but in a real fight he was absurdly strong.
Even using a bamboo sword, he could swing with thunderous booms. A simple punch sent waves of burning wind across the platform.
From any angle, he was already far beyond what a "Shinigami" was supposed to be.
Naraku let his arms hang loose at his sides, watching the huddled prisoners quietly.
He genuinely didn't understand how people who'd treated others' lives like nothing could be so terrified of a bit of physical pain.
"If you won't walk toward me, then I'll walk toward you."
His steady footsteps felt like they were stomping directly on their hearts. Each step landed like a heavy drumbeat, the pressure climbing with every pace.
Pop.
Something in one man's mind snapped first. A prisoner let out a hysterical roar, trying to drown out the terror inside.
An instant later, they all charged him like wild animals.
"I don't get it."
One of the watching jailers frowned curiously.
"Why does Sixth Seat Naraku train like this?"
"You just got back from a mission?" Nishikawa asked.
"Yes, Senpai. I just returned from South Rukongai District 28."
"In that case it makes sense you don't understand."
Nishikawa scratched his head and explained.
"As the fastest-promoted Shinigami in the Central Prison's history, some who don't know the details might think Naraku's only moved up because the Warden favors him."
"But in reality, ever since he joined, the prisoners here have changed. Instead of just rebel Shinigami from other branches, Rukongai thugs, and random criminals, we now have high nobles—and even members of the Five Great Houses."
"And most importantly, aside from his normal training, Naraku always comes down here to help. Escorting inmates, enforcing punishments—he takes on everything."
"To stabilize things down here, he even invented something he calls 'the Therapy of Hope.'"
"In the depths of despair, he gives them a little hope—just enough to feel almost within reach. Like now: if they injure or defeat Naraku, they can win various rewards, even reduced sentences."
"That tiny glimpse of light in the darkness—however faint—makes them struggle for it."
"They stop fighting each other, stop yelling and causing trouble. They keep their heads down and train, all so they can one day defeat Naraku."
At this point, Nishikawa's expression turned slightly awkward. He hesitated before adding:
"Of course, there is a downside."
"When they realize that no matter what they do, they can't even scratch him… they start rejecting combat altogether. Like now."
The other jailer nodded in understanding.
So that's how it is.
He hadn't realized Sixth Seat Naraku was that kind of person—not only doing all the tedious work of a jailer himself, but also contributing to the prison's internal stability.
No wonder the others looked at him with such admiration.
A strong, down-to-earth Shinigami like that really was someone worth looking up to.
On the platform, Naraku held Araki Makoto by the neck with one hand, looking a little bored.
Someone who'd once been able to at least go a few rounds with him now couldn't even withstand his Reiatsu.
He'd been the last to charge, but somehow he was the first to go down.
No challenge at all.
Maybe it was time to start testing the prisoners in the Black Thread Hell.
Lost in the thrill of fighting, Naraku didn't notice the strange looks around him.
He wasn't nearly as noble as Nishikawa made him sound.
The only reason he did this was because he'd discovered another way to use [Justice].
Just like how killing someone with over a thousand sin value on the spot still granted rewards—
This was another hidden mechanic the "manual" hadn't mentioned.
By forcing prisoners to confront their own sins and "reflect" on them, he could patch up his participation rate, and in doing so, pull additional rewards out of them:
Little boosts in Reiatsu, basic Zanjutsu/Hakuda/Hohō/Kidō—
Tiny amounts, but a nice way to train while "killing time."
Naraku wasn't good at verbal manipulation like Aizen, nor was he the type to enjoy inflicting brutal torture.
So after racking his brain, he came up with the Therapy of Hope.
The results were… surprisingly good.
If Nishikawa and the rest knew the truth, they'd probably say they were ashamed to share a workplace with such a grind-obsessed maniac.
Anyway, the real reason he was going this hard was simple:
The crushing pressure of a certain actual broken monster.
Even using every spare moment, Naraku still couldn't see Aizen's back.
Leaving aside that insane Reiatsu talent, just the fact he could chantlessly cast a six-layer Dankū… was enough to make anyone trying to catch up feel despair.
And.
On top of his absurd Kidō skill, Aizen's fundamental abilities were frighteningly strong too.
If not for the short time he'd had to train, he might already be standing at the peak of the Shinigami race.
With a friend like that, how could he not feel the pressure?
Naraku looked down at the prisoner sprawled at his feet—face twisted, vicious by nature—and offered a warm smile.
"So, do you really understand what you did wrong?"
The man, beaten who knows how many times, nodded his head so fast he nearly rattled his brain loose.
Given the choice between fighting this monster and undergoing prison punishment, he'd pick the torture.
[Successfully suppressed prisoner. Sin Value: 114. Contribution: 50%]
[Your Reiatsu has increased. Current Reiatsu Grade: 5!]
After days of relentless grinding, Naraku had finally pushed his Reiatsu to the average vice-captain level—just enough to barely stand his ground in a Soul Society full of hidden daggers.
A breeze stirred. Ripples spread like water, and a system screen only he could see opened before him.
[Name: Naraku Sora]
[Reiatsu: Grade 5]
[Zanjutsu: LV51]
[Hakuda: LV48]
[Shunpo: LV47]
[Kidō: LV52]
[Hollow Power: 10%]
Numbers.
Compared to his stats when he'd first arrived at the prison, his power had multiplied several times over—enhanced in every direction.
Beyond rewards from suppressing criminals, turning himself into a full-time grind engine was key to his growth.
Regular "sparring sessions" with Yamamoto in First Division, periodic visits to Unohana to talk about the future of swordsmanship, the occasional participation in whatever new "experiment" the bad woman was cooking up.
His life was very… full.
At that moment, noise erupted outside the prison. Before anyone could go investigate, a figure appeared at the top of the stairs and began descending.
Short blue hair, face painted with strange white markings, odd accessories dangling by his ears, his entire presence radiating a kind of decadent gloom—as if he'd just crawled out of some dark lair.
Even so—
The moment the jailers saw him, their voices died mid-sentence and fear flashed across their faces.
Naraku recognized him too. Despite a few differences from how he'd imagined him, there was no doubt who it was—
Kurotsuchi Mayuri had returned.