"Hahahahaha…"
Hirako Shinji's laughter echoed through the air.
"This joke of yours—really, it's not funny at all."
His gaze narrowed, tinged with contempt.
"Did landing a single clean strike make you arrogant enough to think that the captains of the Gotei 13 are only this strong?"
Shinji's voice was light, but his spiritual pressure stirred slightly. The amusement on his face didn't quite reach his eyes.
It had been a long time—he could hardly remember the last time someone had underestimated him like this. Not even Aizen, when he first deceived them, had been so brazen.
"I don't know about the others," Akira answered calmly. "But I know you, Captain Hirako Shinji, are nothing more than this."
He turned slightly as if already done with the conversation.
"You can leave now. Make good use of the next twenty-seven days. After all, this is your last month as the Captain of the Fifth Division. Savor the feeling of sitting in that office—it will be a valuable memory when you're reflecting on your career after retirement."
His tone was casual, almost dismissive.
"Graduate in one month. Achieve Bankai in one month. Challenge a seated captain in one month?" Shinji echoed, lips twitching into a grin.
"Fine. I'll wait for you. I'll be there, front and center—watching you try to bring a Bankai to my doorstep in just twenty-seven days."
Shinji's smile twisted slightly. A glimmer of unease flickered in his eyes—but only for a moment.
"It's just Bankai," Akira said.
His words were slow, deliberate.
"How hard could it be?"
He paused for effect, then added, with a voice so steady and resolute it pierced the air like a drawn blade:
"And besides…"
"I don't even need Bankai… to defeat you."
A beat of silence passed.
The pressure in his tone was undeniable. It wasn't arrogance—it was conviction.
A silent haki that made those nearby unconsciously believe it.
Shinji studied him quietly for a moment.
"Alright then," he said at last, voice low.
"I'll be waiting for you in the Fifth Division barracks."
"I hope you're not just a talker."
"Because I don't want to waste my time waiting for someone who doesn't show up."
The smile slowly drained from Shinji's face. He turned and vanished in a flash of shunpō, not even bothering to look back.
"Akira… are you serious?" Isshin asked with furrowed brows.
"You're actually planning to graduate early and challenge Hirako Shinji?"
"This isn't something to joke about."
He took a deep breath and continued, his tone grim.
"Forget the challenge for a moment—graduating early alone is already nearly impossible."
"The Spiritual Arts Academy sets different graduation criteria for each track. Let me remind you."
"For the third-class division, students only need to master the basics: Zanjutsu, Hakuda, Hohō, and basic Kidō. Even if your Zanpakutō hasn't reached Shikai, you can still graduate."
"For the second-class division, students must demonstrate proficiency in all combat arts, cast Kidō up to Level 40, and unlock Shikai through communion with their Zanpakutō spirit."
"And for the first-class division—your class—it's even more strict."
"You need to not only achieve everything from the second class, but also demonstrate casting of fully chanted Kidō up to Level 80, both Hadō and Bakudō."
"Graduates from your track are called the Captain-Class for a reason. Most of them go on to become division captains, heads of Kidō Corps, or elite vice-captains."
The weight of those words settled over the group.
Even Yoruichi, leaning casually nearby, nodded in agreement—until she opened her mouth and dropped a bombshell.
"That's not so hard for Akira," she said with a sly grin.
"Captain Isshin, maybe you didn't notice—when Hirako Shinji unleashed his spiritual pressure just now to pin Aizen down, Akira used Bakudō #81: Dankū to block it."
"He didn't even chant."
Everyone's eyes widened.
Even Isshin looked momentarily stunned.
They remembered now.
Akira had joined the Academy with them mere days ago. In just three days, he had not only attained Shikai—but had already demonstrated techniques that surpassed normal Academy standards.
"Still," Isshin said after a pause, voice more cautious now, "you should know this."
"Kidō below 80 is one thing. But Bakudō and Hadō are two different beasts."
"You've all taken Kidō class. You should understand—Bakudō is generally more stable, defensive, and easier to cast."
"But Hadō? That's raw destruction. It takes exponentially more control, precision, and spiritual power to cast Hadō of the same level."
"Just because you can abandon the chant and cast Bakudō #81, doesn't mean you can fully chant something like…"
He paused.
"…Hadō #88: Hiryū Gekizoku Shinten Raihō."
He looked directly at Akira. "Can you do it?"
Just as Isshin finished, a quiet voice resounded in Akira's ear.
[Your Kidō is dissatisfied with Captain Shiba's tone. He dares underestimate you? Has he already forgotten that you mastered the full incantation of Hadō #88: Flying Dragon-Striking Heaven-Shaking Thunder Cannon just last night?]
[Your Kidō has leveled up.]
Akira blinked once.
He hadn't even spoken yet, and his Kidō had evolved again—no doubt a result of his subconscious understanding deepening in response to the pressure of combat.
Until just yesterday, he could only chant up to Hadō #70.
Now, he was confident even with #88.
And he'd only been in the Academy for two or three days.
The Kidō class had only been formally taught once since their enrollment.
Everything Akira achieved today—every spell, every chantless cast—was accomplished through self-study and instinctual mastery.
"Akira, where are you going?"
Shiba Isshin furrowed his brows, calling out as he saw Akira turn wordlessly and begin walking toward the Zanjutsu Dojo's exit.
He thought perhaps his earlier comments had finally applied some pressure to the unprecedented genius.
"Akira!"
Shihōin Yoruichi called out too, her tone sharper with concern.
But Akira didn't respond.
"Yoruichi… Isshin-sensei… don't worry."
A soft chuckle escaped from Sōsuke Aizen, whose glasses reflected the sunlight. The corners of his mouth curled upward ever so slightly, as though he had anticipated this outcome.
"The answer's coming. Very soon."
Without waiting, he moved first—quietly following Akira out through the dojo's gate.
The others exchanged looks—some puzzled, others intrigued—and began trailing behind.
Out of worry.
Out of curiosity.
Out of awe.
Soon, everyone found themselves gathered at the Kidō Training Ground.
At that moment, students from lower-tier classes were being instructed by their Kidō teacher in basic spells—mostly Hadō #1: Shō, Hadō #4: Byakurai, and Bakudō #8: Seki. Nothing beyond Level 10.
The air buzzed with light spiritual energy as novice Kidō spells lit up the field.
"Captain Isshin?"
A man in a dark training gi approached, the instructor for the current session.
"You're supposed to be in Zanjutsu rotation today, aren't you?"
His tone was polite—tinged with a respectful deference not owed to just a visiting teacher, but to a seated Gotei 13 captain.
Regardless of his assignment to the Academy, Shiba Isshin was still a division commander.
In Seireitei, unless you're facing a Great Noble or Central 46, a captain's authority walks sideways like a crab.
"You're right," Isshin replied, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "But one of my students wants to use your Kidō field. Just for a moment."
"Would that be alright?"
There was a rare seriousness in his voice, even if his posture remained casual.
"Of course. It'd be an honor."
The instructor didn't hesitate.
He turned to his students, raising his voice.
"Gather up!"
"All students—please move to the outer perimeter of the training ground. Leave the center clear."
The students obeyed, albeit with confusion.
"What's going on?"
"Wait—isn't that Akira, the chief of the top class?"
"Yeah! They say he's the most gifted student to enter Shino Academy in the last two thousand years!"
"Why is he at the Kidō grounds?"
"Maybe he's going to demonstrate some Kidō?"
"Look! Even Captain Shiba is with him—this has to be something serious."
As Akira stepped forward, all eyes followed him.
He moved across the field to a line of Kidō targets set thirty meters away—each one shaped like a humanoid wooden stake.
He stared at one of them silently.
"Teacher Isshin," he asked without turning, "if I break the Kidō stake… I don't have to pay for it, do I?"
"Hah! Break it?"
Isshin chuckled, shaking his head as if someone had just asked whether Central 46 would complain if he slapped Captain-Commander Yamamoto.
"Akira… I know it looks like a chunk of old wood, but don't let appearances fool you."
"That's not normal lumber—it's a custom-made construct from the Twelfth Division, crafted by Captain Shutara Senjumaru of the Technology Development Bureau."
"It's designed to absorb and measure spiritual pressure, and it's reinforced with fragments of sekiseki stone—the same spiritual energy-cancelling material used in prison cells and Central 46's defensive barriers."
"In simple terms?"
"Unless you're a captain-level Shinigami using a fully chanted Hadō over level 80, you won't even scratch it."
Isshin grinned.
"Go ahead. Impress me."