Deep Bonds Between Master and Disciples
Looking at the crowd locked in the holding cells, Naraku Sora let out a long breath, his tightly furrowed brows slowly relaxing.
His previous guess had been correct.
When the gains in Reiatsu accumulated to a certain point, he clearly sensed an unknown, subtle reaction occurring within his spiritual body and soul.
However, he still seemed to be just a tiny bit away from a true metamorphosis.
*Who should I look for next?*
Sora stroked his chin, searching his mind for figures who could provide a massive yield.
Right at that moment, a figure walked into the prison.
"Sora, clean this up. Hueco Mundo needs—"
Just as he was about to say something, Aizen suddenly noticed a certain someone's eyes lighting up.
It was like a starving husky spotting a lavish feast, giving him an involuntary, spine-tingling chill.
"Sōsuke, you're my best friend, right?" Sora suddenly asked.
Aizen furrowed his brows, the ominous premonition in his heart growing stronger.
His intuition told him that if he actually entertained this conversation, something very bad was likely to happen.
"No."
Aizen calmly rejected Sora's invitation of friendship, nipping the danger in the bud.
"Pfft—"
An untimely burst of laughter echoed through the prison.
Even though Urahara Kisuke instantly realized his mistake and stifled it immediately, Sora still slowly turned his head to look at him.
Seeing the dangerous glint suddenly flare up in that person's eyes, Kisuke didn't say a word—he just turned and ran.
It was a reaction driven entirely by primal instinct.
However, before he could even touch the doorknob, a strong, powerful arm firmly locked around his neck.
"Wait, Lord Naraku! I've bled for the Shino Prison! I've achieved great merits for the Department of Research and Development!"
Kisuke hastily tried to make amends, attempting to awaken whatever little conscience remained in the man's heart through begging.
But Sora, flying into a rage out of humiliation, refused to listen. He swiftly countered with a guillotine choke, locking Kisuke down completely.
Soon, agonizing screams echoed throughout the entire prison.
After giving Kisuke a severe beating, Sora bluntly asked if he had any intention of undergoing Hollowfication.
"Lord Naraku, Hollowfication doesn't suit me."
The bruised and battered Kisuke answered very decisively. "Lord Aizen and I pursue different things."
"Strength is just an insignificant part of life."
"Researching the unknown, satisfying curiosity, and slacking off—those are my true pursuits."
Sora nodded, not making things difficult for Kisuke on this matter.
Their usual daily squabbles were just the spice of life; when it came to truly important matters, he still deeply respected the thoughts of others.
Sora casually tossed Kisuke into a holding cell, preparing to reap another wave of benefits.
However, the rewards he received next were somewhat beyond his expectations.
Sora had some impression of this Bakudō.
Previously, when they teamed up against Arturo, Aizen had used the ninety-sixth Bakudō, Kyōkajō Fūmetsu, to seal him away.
This was because Arturo possessed infinite high-speed regeneration; as long as even a tiny scrap of flesh remained, he could grow back a complete body.
The best way to deal with him was sealing.
It was simply absurd.
But perhaps because Arturo had put all his skill points into high-speed regeneration, his actual combat strength was quite a bit weaker than Starrk, who was also a natural Arrancar.
It could only be said that you win some, you lose some.
What Sora hadn't expected was that he would actually extract this Bakudō from Urahara Kisuke.
It was worth noting that in the original timeline, Aizen had been defeated by this very technique.
But in this world, because of the butterfly effect he had caused, the two men who were supposed to be enemies had become partners.
They had even formed a specialized research group, and their relationship was incredibly harmonious.
There wasn't the slightest hint of animosity between them.
Sora marveled at this for a few seconds, then turned around and dumped the mess in the underground prison onto Kisuke.
After heading to the cafeteria and gorging himself on a hearty meal, he prepared to visit the other Squad barracks to scout for any suitable sinners to lock up.
Like Kyōraku Shunsui, for instance.
However, upon arriving at Squad 8, he unexpectedly learned from Yadōmaru Lisa that Kyōraku had received a message just before dinner.
As his Lieutenant, Lisa had specifically asked him about it, only to be met with a face that looked as if he had just been utterly devastated.
Then, Kyōraku had said with immense sorrow, "This trip bodes ill. If I don't return, little Lisa, you can pour out two cups of Junrinan sake for me on this day every year."
Although she had been by Kyōraku's side for a long time, Lisa still had no idea what kind of crazy fit her Captain was having.
After pondering for a few seconds, Sora suddenly realized something, a look of dawning comprehension appearing on his face.
Bidding farewell to Lisa, he walked under the last rays of the setting sun and headed straight for the Squad 1 barracks.
Before he even stepped through the main gates, Sora could feel the scorching Reiatsu and the intense heat permeating the air.
Inside the dojo, two figures stood facing each other from a distance.
Looking at the disheveled Kyōraku opposite him, Yamamoto spoke slowly. "Captain Kyōraku, it has been ten years since I last checked on your training progress, hasn't it?"
Kyōraku forced a stiff twitch of his lips, revealing a smile that looked worse than crying. "I suppose so."
"Then have you been training diligently, as I instructed?"
Despite the increasingly sweltering environment, cold sweat seeped from Kyōraku's forehead.
Beads of sweat the size of soybeans rolled down his temples, soaking his collar.
"Well, about that—"
As a Captain-class Soul Reaper, and one of the top-tier ones at that, how could he possibly improve just by training hard?
When he first became a Captain, Kyōraku had indeed worked very hard.
But as time passed, he found that both his Reiatsu and his techniques had hit a bottleneck.
After several fruitless attempts to break through, Kyōraku stopped obsessing over improving his strength, choosing instead to slowly grind away at it over time.
Through sheer persistence, he would eventually reach Yamamoto's level.
But what he hadn't expected was that so many disasters would occur in the short span of less than a century.
Every single one had nearly destroyed the Seireitei.
Kyōraku finally realized his own shortcomings and prepared to start working hard again.
However, it was too late.
Seeing his lazy disciple fail to answer after a long pause, Yamamoto already knew the answer.
The old man immediately gave a cold snort. "Whether you've worked hard or not, we'll know once we fight."
"I hope Captain Kyōraku's upcoming performance will not disappoint me."
Kyōraku sighed, his hands gripping the hilts of the swords at his waist.
Hundreds of years ago, this old man had already settled into a retired lifestyle, but on a sudden whim, he had taken in a final disciple.
And look what happened. His hard-earned stable blood pressure now spiked every other day, and the barracks had been demolished and rebuilt so many times it was practically the Ship of Theseus.
Facing Yamamoto, Kyōraku naturally didn't dare to slack off in the slightest.
His eyes, which usually carried a hint of lethargy, now became incredibly serious.
Accompanied by the crisp ring of steel, the two Zanpakutō—one long and one short—were abruptly drawn, carving cold arcs of light through the air.
Yamamoto raised the walking stick in his hand. Under the stimulation of his Reiatsu, the wooden fibers instantly sublimated, revealing the hidden Ryūjin Jakka within.
The moment the old man gripped the hilt, the atmosphere around him roared as if it were exploding.
It was like the sounding of a battle horn.
The instant the explosive roar echoed, a sharp glint flared in Kyōraku's eyes. His materialized Reiatsu erupted with a bang, kicking up a gale as sharp as blades.
Tapping his toes lightly, he instantly burst forth with astonishing speed.
With one blade leading and the other trailing, he slashed toward Yamamoto's blind spots from an incredibly bizarre angle.
As the wielder of one of the only two sets of paired Zanpakutō in the Soul Society, Kyōraku had developed a dual-wielding Zanjutsu specifically for Katen Kyōkotsu.
Its main focus was being tricky and eccentric, making it difficult for enemies to adapt.
Although he had slacked off for the past few decades, his exquisite Zanjutsu had improved further after the repeated high-intensity battles of recent years.
Coupled with his arduous training under the waterfall, Kyōraku wouldn't dare say his swordsmanship was stronger than Yamamoto's, but it at least wasn't too far behind.
The moment their blades crossed, countless afterimages were generated.
Ordinary Soul Reapers wouldn't be able to see their battle clearly at all; they would only be able to vaguely make out two blurry figures constantly colliding, sending countless sparks flying.
Terrifying power rippled outward with the two of them at the center, instantly causing ripple-like waves to form on the outer Kidō barrier.
Circle after circle, echoing endlessly.
Feeling the landslide-like force transmitting through his twin blades, Kyōraku suffered in silence.
It had only been ten years since they last fought, so why did it feel like this old man was so much fiercer than before?
Could it be that a Soul Reaper could still improve even at the age of several thousand years old?
Just as Kyōraku was struggling to hold on, a familiar voice rang out from outside the dojo.
"Boring! I want to see rivers of blood!"
"Teacher, use the same power you used to beat me up to beat Senior Brother Kyōraku! With such little strength, did you skip dinner?"
Kyōraku thought, *"?"*
*Is this bastard even speaking human language?*
If he wasn't currently being completely suppressed by Yamamoto, he would have loved to deliver a vicious slash to the brat watching from the sidelines.
However, due to this momentary lapse in concentration, a hint of displeasure appeared on Yamamoto's face.
"You insolent fool, you dare get distracted while fighting me?"
A towering pillar of fire erupted from the ground!
Kyōraku's expression changed drastically. He immediately unleashed an astonishing amount of Reiatsu, activating his Shikai in an instant. He summoned an ink-like tide of shadows, pressing it down overwhelmingly toward the pillar of fire.
He barely managed to neutralize Yamamoto's Taimatsu, but in the very next second, a thick, hairy leg swung right at his face, and a size forty-two straw sandal planted itself squarely on his nose.
With a loud boom.
Kyōraku and his swords were sent flying backward, shattering the Kidō barrier and crashing straight through the wall.
After doing all this, Yamamoto turned his head, looking with displeasure at Sora, who was leaning against the window watching the show. "Brat, what are you doing here?"