When it came to Ichigo Kurosaki, Uehara Shiroha actually found the time to offer him a few pieces of advice.
If it had been Prince Naruto or Monkey D. Luffy standing here, he wouldn't have bothered.
One of them acted like he'd been hit by Kotoamatsukami, unable to listen to anyone; the other couldn't even read, let alone understand what was being said.
Compared to those two, Ichigo Kurosaki was far more lovable—respectful, polite, and soft-hearted. Even if he didn't fully grasp Uehara Shiroha's intentions right now, he would remember them in the back of his mind.
A teachable seed, this one.
In other words, with just the right amount of manipulation, Ichigo could easily be used to stir up chaos—a prime-grade troublemaker.
Meanwhile, Orihime Inoue was eyeing Uehara Shiroha thoughtfully. Her eyes sparkled with surprise, admiration, and even a little gratitude.
She understood things that Ichigo didn't—she saw deeper into the implications.
But she had no intention of letting Ichigo understand them.
Although she felt thankful to Uehara Shiroha and was clearly moved by his overwhelming presence, Orihime was also painfully self-aware.
Much like Aizen, Uehara Shiroha was a powerful, and dangerous existence.
She and Ichigo were no match for someone like him.
So while she respected him, a part of her instinctively wanted to keep her distance.
"She's pretty sharp," Uehara Shiroha smirked, instantly seeing through Orihime's thoughts.
There were still some good women in Bleach—the kind you'd never regret marrying.
Take Orihime, for example: sharp, grounded, and sensible. Just like several of his own trusted companions.
But Kurosaki Ichigo? He had no core leadership instinct at all. He was too timid!
That wouldn't do.
Thinking of this, Uehara turned to Ichigo and said with a sigh of disappointment:
"I heard your grades are pretty good? And you're still wasting your time on stuff like this this late into the night? What a waste of talent."
"Is school really what you should be focused on?"
"Kurosaki Ichigo, you're not like the others. Don't let studying drag you down."
He wasn't just messing with the kid.
Ichigo, who carried the blood of four powerful lineages, really wasn't like the average person. His ancestry was even more absurd than the Soul King's.
In this world where power ruled all, studying was a waste of time—for someone like Ichigo.
The kid might not be aware of it, but Shiroha could see things clearly.
Dreaming of a peaceful life? That's a privilege reserved for the strong.
If Ichigo hadn't inherited such a monstrous bloodline, his family would've been wiped out during the very first Hollow attack.
This was the reality of the Shinigami world: Only the strong survived. The weak didn't even get a chance to play.
That was the essence of it.
Of course, loving life and sticking to your ideals even after seeing the world's dark side wasn't a bad thing.
It just wasn't fun.
Uehara preferred seeing others carrying the weight, struggling under pressure—that was far more entertaining than doing all the work himself.
Hearing this, Ichigo scratched the back of his head awkwardly and gave a dry laugh, trying to change the subject.
"Ahaha, it's not that bad... Anyway, Commander Uehara, aren't you worried about Aizen and the Espada?"
He didn't hold any grudges over Uehara killing Nnoitra. Ichigo just couldn't bring himself to do something like that, but he wasn't blind to right and wrong—Nnoitra had it coming.
He just didn't want Uehara dragged into the war because of him.
After all, the man standing before him had never seemed interested in opposing Aizen directly. He always looked like he wanted to stay out of the whole mess.
"Who do you think I am?" Uehara raised his chin, his tone noble and righteous. "I, Uehara Shiroha, will never make peace with Aizen and the Espada!"
"Even if I have to sacrifice your life and the entire Gotei 13, I'll defeat Aizen completely!"
Ichigo blinked. He still didn't quite get it.
He was too young—too naive.
Even if Uehara killed all the Espada by himself, Aizen wouldn't be mad. If anything, it would just prove Uehara's strength.
That's why those two future prison bosses—Aizen and Yhwach—wouldn't dare drag him into their game.
In this world, if you didn't want to be someone else's pawn, you first had to prove you were capable of flipping the board.
Then, and only then, would you be qualified to share the prize.
Strength is freedom.
"...Ah?" Ichigo broke out in a cold sweat after hearing Uehara's bold declaration. He was finding it hard to believe the commander wasn't taking the upcoming war seriously at all.
To Ichigo, the conflict between Soul Society and Aizen was a world-shaking event.
To Uehara, it was just another round in a game.
At that moment, Uehara Shiroha looked off into the distance, his gaze landing on the shifting white sands.
"They're coming."
He smirked. "By the way... is your sword even real? Why do all the Hollows and Shinigami you slash end up following you around?"
"Did you spike your sword with something? Right, Grimmjow?"
From Abarai Renji and Byakuya Kuchiki to Grimmjow—and soon, the legendary Eighth himself, Kenpachi Zaraki—they were all weirdly obsessed with Ichigo.
It was like a parade of man-crushes.
Kamijou Touma punched people and built a harem; Kurosaki Ichigo slashed people and built a squad of bromantic rivals. Perfect division of labor.
That said, Shiroha knew this time was different.
Kenpachi Zaraki wasn't coming for Ichigo.
First, Ichigo was still injured and recovering—fighting him wouldn't be fun.
Second, Shiroha was simply a more exciting opponent.
Ichigo and the others soon sensed the oppressive and terrifying Reiatsu rapidly approaching—feral and overwhelming like a monster unleashed.
They looked up instinctively.
From the distance, in the shifting white sands, a red-gold figure came charging in like a runaway locomotive.
That force—combined with a monstrous Reiatsu—sent chills down their spines. For a moment, they felt like they'd fallen into an icy pit, a blade of spiritual pressure piercing straight through their bodies.
It wasn't just killing intent. That Reiatsu felt sharp enough to cut through the air—solid, suffocating.
Amid their confusion, Ichigo and Orihime found something eerily familiar about that aura.
So strong.
Ichigo, Orihime, Nel, and even Grimmjow—who had just woken up—stared wide-eyed at the oncoming figure.
Moments later, a towering man arrived, stepping through the white dunes.
He looked like a walking natural disaster, his body radiating wild, murderous energy.
"It's him... Kenpachi Zaraki!" Ichigo's expression tightened.
Relieved for a moment—only for dread to take its place again.
Sure, Zaraki wasn't an enemy.
But the Eleventh Division's captain wasn't exactly safe either.
Enemy or ally, if he got bored, he might just start cutting down his own teammates. Ichigo had learned that the hard way.
Orihime's gaze was filled with worry as she tried healing Ichigo. She knew Kenpachi too well—he wasn't a "normal" captain.
Once that guy got worked up, he'd attack anything that moved. And for some reason, he really enjoyed fighting Ichigo.
The scariest part?
He thought of those duels as friendly sparring.
Who could survive that?!
Grimmjow also looked stunned when he recognized the new arrival. His jaw dropped.
"There's another monster?!"
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