"Captain, here's what happened."
Shiba Isshin stepped forward, observing that Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni's expression wasn't feigned. He began to explain everything in detail: how Hirako Shinji had sent his lieutenant ahead as a distraction, then arrived at the Zanjutsu Dōjō pretending to be a teacher, only to continually pressure Aizen. In the end, it was Aiyan, acting as the elder brother, who defended Aizen and pinned Hirako to the wall with a single strike.
The more Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni heard, the darker his expression became.
Especially when Shiba mentioned how, even after losing, Hirako still intended to abuse his authority as Fifth Division Captain to keep pressing the Aiyan brothers—going so far as to challenge them to a duel—Yamamoto could no longer contain his fury.
The Reiatsu of the strongest Shinigami in a thousand years erupted without restraint.
A wave of Reiatsu burst out like a tidal surge, instantly crushing all seated officers to their knees.
Even lieutenant-level Shinigami could barely stay conscious, collapsing one by one as though caught in a sea of flames, their bodies feeling like they were burning alive.
"A Captain of the Gotei 13, entrusted with leadership, should nurture talent. But instead, he uses his authority to suppress people of integrity and promise?"
"Is that what Seireitei gave him his rank for? So he could do as he pleases?"
Yamamoto's voice thundered with fury, his Reiatsu thickening the air like a storm of fire.
He had long regretted missing the chance to take Aiyan under his wing during the boy's time at the Shin'o Academy. But now, learning that not only did he miss his opportunity, but that Hirako Shinji—another captain—had repeatedly harassed them without cause, Yamamoto's anger erupted like an inferno.
It was a direct insult to his authority, especially if word spread. It would mean one of his own captains had openly acted with bias and selfishness right under his nose.
"Hirako might have just misunderstood…"
Jūshirō Ukitake, ever the voice of reason, tried to mediate. But Yamamoto, mid-rage, cut him off harshly.
"Misunderstood what?"
"Is it a crime now to accomplish what he could not?"
"To give without asking anything in return? To act with clarity and honor?"
"Just because he, Hirako Shinji, is narrow-minded, must he drag others down?"
"He refused to step forward for Soul Society's future—that's fine. Not everyone can be a hero."
"But to repeatedly suppress someone like Aizen, using the power of a captain?"
Yamamoto's Reiatsu grew heavier, hotter, and almost took visible form.
"It's already reached the level of 60 Kensei…"
"No Shikai, no Bankai—and yet standing above most Shinigami."
Aiyan, standing tall beneath the pressure, stared forward. His eyes, behind square-framed glasses, reflected a faint glimmer of admiration and curiosity.
Yamamoto's Reiatsu wasn't like other captains'.
It wasn't just overwhelmingly powerful—it was hot, blazing like a wildfire. It carried the essence of Ryūjin Jakka itself.
Clearly, his thousands of years of cultivation didn't just grant Yamamoto unparalleled power—they let him merge his Zanpakutō's nature directly into his Reiatsu.
It wasn't just energy. It was on fire.
Aiyan's eyes flickered. That idea—that ability—was something he had never considered before.
[Your Zanpakutō says: You still need to learn how to integrate Zanpakutō traits into Reiatsu? Hmph. She's been too busy preparing for Bankai lately, but since you're interested, she'll spare thirty seconds to infuse her power into your Reiatsu.]
The moment the message reached his mind, Aiyan's Reiatsu subtly changed.
The rank didn't rise. It remained on level 18 Reiatsu—still triple that of Muguruma Kensei even in a sealed state.
But the quality changed.
His Reiatsu now bore the essence of Zanpakutō Kōfūin—Light and Darkness.
What those effects were, he'd need to test in battle.
"You don't need to attend this duel."
"As for Hirako Shinji, leave him to me. I guarantee he won't threaten Aizen again."
Yamamoto, still burning with fury, turned toward Aiyan and offered assurance.
"Thank you, Captain, for your concern."
Aiyan shook his head firmly.
There was no chance he would skip this battle.
It was all part of the plan he and Aizen had crafted long ago—to drag Hirako out of the Fifth Division through force.
And as for the Lieutenant seat of the First Division—he had no intention of taking it himself.
That seat was reserved for Aizen.
"You don't trust me?" Yamamoto frowned, tone low and dangerous.
In all of Soul Society, his authority was unmatched. Even Central 46 could not override his personal decisions.
He was the law of Seireitei.
He only obeyed Central 46's rulings out of respect—for he, Yamamoto Genryūsai, had created that order. If he didn't follow it, who would?
"I ask respectfully, Captain…"
"What will you do about Captain Hirako?"
"Remove him from the Fifth Division?"
"Expel him from the Gotei 13?"
Aiyan's voice was calm but direct.
Yamamoto fell silent.
After all, Hirako Shinji was a Division Captain. That rank was more prestigious than most noble clan heads.
You couldn't just strip him of that rank or cast him out of the Gotei 13 on a whim.
More importantly, Hirako hadn't technically broken any laws. Morally, yes—but legally, no.
It was clever, really.
No matter how much trouble he caused, there would never be a real punishment. At most, a slap on the wrist.
"A verbal warning… maybe a written reprimand."
Aiyan understood it clearly.
Even in the Court Guard, it was still about internal politics.
No one would kill a fellow captain over something .
"Captain, it's not you I don't trust."
"You might scare him into behaving… for now."
"But what about tomorrow? Next month? A year later?"
"As you yourself said—he's narrow-minded. If you punish him today, he'll only hate Aizen more tomorrow. And next time, he'll strike from the shadows."
"There's a saying in the human world…"
'A thief only needs to get lucky once; the victim must be cautious every single time.'
With that, Aiyan accepted the new uniform and turned toward the Fifth Division.
He was already moving forward. The game had begun.
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