"Teacher, why not invite Junior Martial Brother over today so Shunsui and I, as his seniors, can meet him."
Yamamoto, who had just finished disciplining Shunsui, felt a stab of pain in his temples at his only well-behaved disciple's suggestion. One Kyōraku was already exhausting; if the equally unruly Jie Chengxian met him, who knew what fireworks would explode. Yet he couldn't keep them apart. At least here, under his nose, Shunsui wouldn't spout nonsense to Jie Chengxian. If they met in private… Yamamoto refused to imagine it. He gathered his reiatsu and cast Bakudō Seventy-Seven: Tenteikūra, a wonderfully convenient communication Kidō often used to relay messages. Aside from the intended recipients, others could only sense the reiatsu's tremor, never the content.
"Boy Jie, come to First Division at once; this old man will inspect your recent progress."
Jie Chengxian, dozing off, heard Old Man Yama's voice beside his ear. Thinking he'd been caught napping in class, he jolted upright. Realizing it was only a Kidō message, he sat back down under Aizen's you-must-be-an-idiot stare.
"What fit are you throwing now?"
"Old Man Yama wants to test me."
Jie exhaled in relief—his dazzling talent had the old man wrapped around his finger.
"Then why aren't you moving? Aren't you afraid of offending the Captain Commander?"
"Ah, you don't get it, Sōsuke."
Jie propped his right elbow on the desk, crossed his legs, wagged his left forefinger, and looked at Aizen with disdain.
"Ever heard of the 'three visits to the cottage'? Right now, I'm Old Man Yama's Zhuge Liang!"
Aizen's face twisted in bewilderment. Zhuge Liang was brilliance bordering on supernatural; Jie Chengxian was, at best, colossal stupidity disguised as wisdom.
"So you expect the Captain Commander to beg three times before you go?"
"Precisely."
Jie lounged there showing off, confident the old man couldn't hear a word.
"This old man heard every word."
What the hell?!
Jie tumbled off his stool in fright. The old man eavesdropped? He was doomed.
"If you've complaints, you may voice them to my face in a moment."
Ashen-faced, Jie realized he'd overplayed his hand. Who'd have thought the mighty Captain Commander would stoop to spying? He shot the stifled-laughing Aizen a glare and flash-stepped toward First Division without pause. Noting the slight refinement in Jie's Shunpo, Aizen sighed inwardly—infuriating how some people outpace you. They studied the same material, yet Jie mastered it faster and even improved it. His new Shunpo conserved ten percent more reiatsu while boosting speed by twenty percent.
So this is what it feels like to chase someone… Aizen adjusted the glasses that hid his expression and sauntered out of the academy. No one sensed a student had vanished; to them, "Aizen Sōsuke" still sat obediently at his desk.
"What the—what demon shows itself in broad daylight?"
Sliding open the wooden door, Jie nearly jumped at the sight of a swollen, purple face sporting two panda eyes.
"A-hem, Junior Martial Brother, I'm Ukitake Shunsui, and this is Kyoraku Shunsui—your senior brothers."
Jie studied the barely human Kyōraku for ages before matching him to memory. So Old Man Yama still beat people like this? Was he next?
He sneaked a nervous glance at Yamamoto; only when no blow came did he breathe. The old man caught the gesture and snorted.
"This old man isn't so petty he'd quarrel with a brat."
Seeing Jie's awkwardness, the gentle Ukitake stepped in, drawing a small booklet and handing it over.
"Heh, first meetings call for a gift. We brothers have little to offer, so please accept my personal Kidō notes."
Jie accepted it with both hands, thanked Ukitake, then looked pointedly at Kyōraku.
"Sure shows how different people can be, wouldn't you say, Uncle Shunsui?"
The newly restored flippant uncle's mouth twitched—this junior was no pushover.
"Don't underestimate me; your senior's prepared a grand gift. But first, how old are you?"
"Eighteen."
"I meant your age."
"Same thing."
Kyōraku gasped—truly the pupil surpasses the master—and leaned in with a conspiratorial wink.
Senior Martial Brother is taking you to a great place tonight—guarantee you'll love it.
Oh? What place? Should this old man come along too?
Kyoraku Shunsui turned his head mechanically to find Yamamoto already standing behind him and felt life lose all meaning. He closed his eyes in resignation and braced for another beating from the Old Man.
If you dare act like that scoundrel Kyōraku, I swear you'll end up the same way.
After a hypocritical three-second prayer for Kyōraku's soul, Jie Chengxian solemnly assured Yamamoto.
Enough. I told you today's for reviewing your recent progress—get ready.
The disciples followed Yamamoto to the underground training field of the First Division: an endless space purpose-built for high-intensity drills. His cane tapped the ground and an invisible barrier sealed the area.
Show me everything you've mastered. I hope you surprise me.
Without moving a muscle, Yamamoto now felt nothing like the decrepit elder of moments before; his aura alone was a sword thrust at the sky. The moment an asauchi cleared its sheath, Jie Chengxian was in front of Yamamoto, blade crashing down with such speed that Kyōraku and Ukitake watching from the side flinched.
No wonder the Captain Commander is teaching him personally—this talent is monstrous.
Yamamoto deflected the asauchi with his left hand alone while his right hand sent the cane stabbing like a viper at Jie's throat. Jie planted his blade in the ground, pivoted, and whipped his left leg at Yamamoto's side.
Fool!
Yamamoto roared, released the cane about to be kicked, and caught Jie's leg in an iron grip. For a war-hardened Shinigami like him, Jie's moves were riddled with openings; against an equal he might dominate, but here he was about to star in the Soul Society equivalent of the Gaia nine-hit combo—except he'd be the one slammed.
Ugh—ahhh!
Jie lay sprawled on the ground, eyes shut, mouth agape, groaning in defeat. The gap was just too wide; the road to invincibility still stretched far ahead.
Enough. I already held back.
Recalling the brief exchange, Yamamoto had all he needed to gauge Jie's level.
Your Shunpo differs from the Academy's—did you modify it?
Cane retrieved, Yamamoto reverted to the frail old man of everyday life. At the nod of confirmation he gave a satisfied grunt: the boy's experience was lacking, but his potential was undeniable; refining Shunpo to suit himself at this stage spoke of a bright future.
Jie Chengxian, will you formally become my disciple? I know this forces you to declare a side in Soul Society's turmoil, but I swear that as long as you wish it, those sordid struggles won't touch your life.
The question didn't surprise Jie; Aizen had already analysed it for him. He bore no dislike for Old Man Yama—just a few extra hassles. Worst case, he could ask Sōsuke to lop off the Central 46; that's what happened in canon anyway.
Mind made up, Jie bowed in formal apprenticeship. In outsiders' eyes the label had been stamped the moment Yamamoto summoned him; sealing it changed little.
Excellent. Come every third day and I will teach you all I know.
All three disciples were stunned—Yamamoto intended not merely to pass on his legacy but to groom Jie as the next Captain of the First Division.
Teacher, that hardly seems proper.
Glancing at his senior brothers, Jie felt he ought to show modesty, but Yamamoto, immovable, left only the words: "Rest easy—until I die I won't bind you overmuch," then departed.
Haha, good Junior Martial Brother, thank you! Now I can slack off with complete peace of mind.
Kyōraku threw his head back and laughed, clapping Jie on the shoulder. Heaven had eyes—he was finally free of the Captain Commander's expectations; from now on he could roam at leisure while his little Junior Martial Brother fended for himself.
The ever-kind Ukitake looked at Jie with sympathy. "Don't worry, your Martial Brother will help you."
Jie stood there, wanting to weep at the bright yet pitch-black future ahead.