As a dazzling golden light soared into the sky, Makoto Ito and Madarame were sent flying backward under the terrifying force of the sword strike.
"Is this the true strength of Kenpachi Zaraki when he wields his sword with both hands?" Makoto Ito coughed, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. Beside him, Madarame was in even worse condition. Not only had his Bankai been forcibly dispelled, but the wounds he had sustained earlier burst open, leaving him drenched in blood. He was barely holding himself together.
Fortunately, Makoto Ito had already erected a dual-layer barrier. Without it, the sheer force of Zaraki's spiritual pressure would have alerted others the moment he swung his sword.
Unexpectedly, after getting back up, Kenpachi Zaraki looked slightly disappointed. "I actually used both hands to strike... I lost." With that, he lost interest in the fight, sat down on the ground, and sighed in boredom.
Makoto Ito, still catching his breath, had no time to dwell on Zaraki's odd sense of victory and defeat. He quickly used his healing abilities to stop Madarame's bleeding. Before he could even finish bandaging him, he had to turn his attention to stabilizing Zaraki's injuries.
A few minutes later, as the outer barrier dissipated, Ayasegawa Yumichika and Kusajishi Yachiru approached, their faces filled with astonishment. There was Makoto Ito, tending to both Kenpachi and Madarame with an air of practiced efficiency.
"I swear, I've been using healing techniques more than actual Fourth Division members lately," Makoto Ito muttered. When he first joined the Eleventh Division, he expected to sharpen his killing techniques. Yet, after years of battling alongside Zaraki and Madarame—both of whom embraced a reckless, injury-for-injury fighting style—he had been forced to become proficient in healing just to keep up. As a result, his healing abilities had improved so much that he could now rival veteran Fourth Division members.
In fact, whenever his squadmates were injured on missions, they often sought him out for treatment instead of going to the Fourth Division.
"Maybe I should transfer to the Fourth Division," he mused. "At least there, I'd be under the original Kenpachi and could learn proper killing techniques. Then again, joining the medical corps to learn combat techniques is pretty ironic."
As he was lost in thought, Ayasegawa Yumichika came over to help with the bandaging. He worked deftly, wrapping Madarame's wounds with practiced ease.
"Ah… this…" Makoto Ito raised an eyebrow at his skill.
Noticing his gaze, Yumichika chuckled. "What's so strange? Before you joined, I was the one in charge of patching these idiots up."
Makoto Ito: "..."
The next morning, a loud, insistent knocking on Makoto Ito's dormitory door woke him up. When he opened it, he was met with a figure clad in an immaculate white robe. The man looked down at him with an air of arrogance and declared, "Makoto Ito, I am here as a representative of Central 46 to notify you. In half a month, you are to attend the upcoming Noble Hunting Conference. Your primary duty will be to oversee security for the noble attendees.
"Understand this—I am informing you, not requesting your opinion. This is one of the rare opportunities for someone of your lowly status to change their fate. You'd best make the most of it."
The disdain in the man's voice was unmistakable. He regarded Ito as if he were nothing more than an insect.
Makoto Ito stared at him blankly for a moment before replying, "Who the hell are you?"
The man's expression twisted in outrage. "How dare you speak to me that way! I am Yano Tenka, direct heir of the esteemed Yano family! A mere street rat like you should—"
SMACK!
A resounding slap cut him off mid-sentence. Yano Tenka staggered, blood dripping from his nose as a few teeth clattered to the floor. He stared in shock, unable to comprehend what had just happened.
"You… you dare strike me?!" he sputtered.
Makoto Ito didn't bother replying. SMACK! Another slap sent him reeling.
"You filthy—"
SMACK!
"You won't get away with—"
SMACK!
"You—"
SMACK!
Finally, Yano Tenka collapsed to his knees, his once-arrogant demeanor replaced by sheer terror. Tears streamed down his swollen face. "S-Sir Ito… please… I was wrong…"
SMACK!
Makoto Ito dusted off his hands and smirked. "Oh, sorry. My hand slipped. You should've just apologized sooner."
At that moment, a familiar voice called out, "My friend Ito, I sincerely apologize for this. It seems I have been neglecting discipline within my ranks. Please, don't let this incident trouble you."
Makoto Ito turned to see the newcomer, wondering what fresh nonsense awaited him now.
As Makoto Ito looked up, he recognized the man approaching—it was Yano Masahiko, the examiner from his entrance exam. The moment he reached them, Masahiko kicked Yano Tianhe, who was still sprawled on the ground.
"Uncle, I—"
Yano Tianhe's words came out garbled, his swollen face making it difficult to speak.
"Shut up, you idiot!" Yano Masahiko snapped, glaring down at him.
Then, turning to Makoto Ito, his expression instantly softened, his tone almost obsequious. "Ito-dono, let me explain. Traditionally, each division selects members to provide security at the noble hunting conference. However, this year is different. The Kasumi family specifically requested, through Central 46, that you attend."
He hesitated, as if gauging Ito's reaction, then added, "The Kasumi family holds a status in the Soul Society second only to the Four Great Noble Houses, so…"
Makoto Ito raised an eyebrow. He immediately understood the unspoken implication and muttered to himself, "The Kasumi family? Interesting. I haven't even gone looking for them, yet they've sought me out first."
Returning his attention to Masahiko, he replied evenly, "Senior Yano, since this is an official mission from Central 46, I, as a member of the Gotei 13, will naturally comply."
Relieved, Yano Masahiko nodded, then hurriedly dragged Yano Tianhe away as if he were a discarded rag doll.
Once they were out of sight, Yano Tianhe, now free to complain, whined, "Uncle, you must avenge me! That lowborn trash dared to lay hands on me!"
Yano Masahiko raised his left hand, preparing to strike, but hesitated when he saw his nephew's grotesquely swollen face. After a brief moment of consideration, he switched to his right hand and delivered a heavy slap.
"You absolute fool! Can't you stop causing trouble for me?!" he roared.
"I sent you to deliver a message from Central 46. And this is how you do it?! Not only did you offend a high-ranking officer, but one with immense potential—a man who might become a captain in the future!"
Seething, Masahiko kicked Tianhe again. "The whole point was to build rapport, to form a connection—not to turn him into an enemy! You're useless!"
His fury mounting, Masahiko didn't hold back this time, his kicks landing with brutal efficiency.
"You graduated thirty years earlier than most, yet while others have climbed the ranks, you still haven't even achieved Shikai! From this day forward, you are to return to the family estate and train behind closed doors. You will not take a single step outside until you have mastered it!"
Yano Masahiko looked down at his nephew in disgust. It was painfully clear—this incompetent fool could never be the future of the Yano family.
With a weary sigh, he lamented, "Ever since your father's death, the Yano family has been in decline. Once, we stood among the highest nobility. Now, we are barely clinging to lower-noble status. And not one among the younger generation is capable of shouldering that burden."
Glancing once more at the miserable sight of his nephew, his anger flared anew. "Get out of my sight!" he bellowed.
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