Chapter 276: What Trouble Have You Caused This Time?
Marenoshin was panicking.
He knew exactly what level his son was at.
When he first joined the Eleventh Division, his son was just an ordinary graduate.
Calling him ordinary was being generous.
Among Zanjutsu, Hakuda, Hohō, and Kidō, Marechiyo was only decent at Flash Step, which far surpassed his peers.
The other three skills were barely passable.
More troubling than his technical abilities was his son's fighting spirit.
Having been raised in privilege, Marechiyo feared combat and always sought to escape danger.
Despite being scolded multiple times, he still couldn't break the habit.
At present, while Marechiyo seemed to have undergone a significant change in demeanor, facing Zaraki directly was still far too exaggerated.
Zaraki... this was a true beast even he himself was reluctant to confront. How could his foolish son possibly spar with him?
Though he desperately wanted to pull his son down, seeing Satoru make no move to stop it, he couldn't intervene too overtly.
With a heart full of worry, he fixed his gaze on the arena.
But as he watched, Marenoshin gradually noticed something amiss.
His foolish son seemed to have genuinely changed.
In the arena, Marechiyo stood with resolute determination, gripping his Zanpakutō tightly with both hands. While continuously using Flash Step to evade, he sought openings to counterattack within the gaps of Zaraki's frenzied assaults.
Several times, Marechiyo dodged a fraction too slow, earning long gashes from Zaraki's serrated blade.
Blood welled up, staining the black Shinigami Uniform with patches of dark brown.
Suddenly, after dodging a heavy slash from Zaraki, Marechiyo's speed increased once more—
"HYAAAH!!!"
With a furious roar, Marechiyo's Zanpakutō carved a long silver arc through the air, striking Zaraki squarely in the chest.
The fierce slash tore a rent in the fabric over Zaraki's chest.
Having landed his blow, Marechiyo didn't linger, immediately retracting his sword and leaping back.
A thin red line gradually became visible where he had struck, a few drops of blood trickling out.
Witnessing this, the surrounding squad members erupted in cheers.
"Beautiful, Marechiyo!"
"He actually wounded the Vice-Captain!"
"Well done! Give him another!"
Hearing their encouragement, Marenoshin below the platform felt a touch of emotion.
What good comrades.
Even though it was merely a scratch that hadn't caused any real damage, his teammates offered sincere praise from the heart.
No wonder his son was improving so quickly.
Just as he was feeling moved, he heard the squad members shout again:
"Vice-Captain! Can you tolerate this?!"
"Cut him down, Vice-Captain!"
"Don't let him walk away from this!"
Marenoshin: "..."
He retracted his previous thought.
These teammates were far too dangerous.
On the arena, Marechiyo's expression grew increasingly grave.
The Vice-Captain's attacks grew ever more ferocious, showing no consideration just because his father was watching from below.
...If the Vice-Captain actually went easy on him for such a reason, he'd have to worry about whether he'd been replaced by an imposter.
Under the Vice-Captain's relentless pressure, the space he could move in was shrinking rapidly.
Flash Step was merely a method of accelerated movement, not teleportation.
By using sword techniques to block the primary movement paths, one could easily restrict Flash Step.
If this continued, he would lose very soon.
Time to change tactics!
With a sudden swing of his blade, he shouted: "Crush him, Gegetsuburi!!"
In a flash of light, his Zanpakutō transformed into a long chain with a massive spiked iron ball head.
A faint glow lit upon Marechiyo's fingers as he brushed them along the chain.
Then, he violently hurled the ball head straight at Zaraki!
Facing the heavily weighted iron ball crashing toward him, Zaraki remained expressionless, casually tilting his neck to let the ball whistle past.
He raised his sword.
It was over.
A Zanpakutō like Gegetsuburi only posed a threat at a distance. Once the range closed and the ball head was already released, the user was practically disarmed.
A single casual slash would be enough to end it.
With a somewhat bored mood, he swung his blade down—
Riiip!!
"Groowl…"
Under his amused gaze, Marechiyo gritted his teeth, pulling the iron chains with both hands to desperately block the descending sword.
"Vice-Captain!! I won't be defeated so easily!!"
Marechiyo roared at the top of his lungs.
Zaraki looked at him.
Trying to stall with iron chains?
Boring delay tactics.
He didn't retract his sword, instead maintaining the downward pressure.
Simultaneously, he raised his right foot, preparing to kick Marechiyo in the stomach and send him flying off the platform.
But just then, he suddenly sensed something wrong.
Instinctively, Zaraki turned his head.
He saw that Gegetsuburi's hammerhead had flown back toward him, though he didn't know when.
Because Marechiyo had been shouting continuously, he hadn't noticed the movement behind him.
By the time he turned, Gegetsuburi was already very close.
BAM!!!
The iron ball with long spikes smashed hard into Zaraki's back.
Even for someone as tough-skinned as Zaraki, taking a hit like that still hurt quite a bit.
Seizing this opportunity, Marechiyo quickly used Flash Step to evade Zaraki's pressure and move to a relatively open position.
Looking at Marechiyo holding Gegetsuburi, Zaraki grinned:
"Interesting... Being able to control the hammerhead even after releasing it, somewhat resembles Aniki's sword."
Marechiyo panted heavily while also showing a smile.
"Of course."
"This technique was developed using Kidō, inspired by Aniki's sword!"
Hearing Marechiyo's words, everyone suddenly understood.
"So that's it! No wonder when I saw Marechiyo release his Zanpakutō before, there wasn't the usual hand-glowing step—it was Kidō after all?"
A squad member who had sparred with Marechiyo several times exclaimed in realization.
Marenoshin looked toward Satoru.
"Young Satoru, did you teach him this?"
Satoru shook his head: "I'm not skilled in Kidō."
Nearby, Shiba Isshin suddenly spoke up: "It was Vice-Captain Aizen."
"Initially, Marechiyo wanted to try developing the Kidō himself, but kept failing."
"Seeing how hard he was trying, I recommended he ask Vice-Captain Aizen... You all know Vice-Captain Aizen can do anything. Three days later, he taught Marechiyo the developed Kidō."
Speaking of Aizen, Isshin seemed somewhat proud.
Marenoshin was surprised.
Sōsuke Aizen... He knew this person too.
The Vice-Captain of the Fifth Division, an elite among the younger generation.
However, in most people's impressions, Aizen's biggest label was "key member of Satoru's group."
Not many knew much about Aizen's own capabilities.
To think he could develop Kidō of this level in just three days.
Truly formidable.
On the field, Marechiyo fought desperately.
Though far inferior to Zaraki in strength, he never gave up.
After holding out for nearly five minutes, covered in wounds, he was finally knocked off the platform by Zaraki.
Marenoshin's eyes filled with heartache, and he hurried to care for his son.
But before he could take two steps, he saw a large group of Eleventh Division members already gathering around.
"Medical team! Hurry over here!"
"Here, Marechiyo, have some water!"
"Well done, Marechiyo, you didn't disgrace our Fourth Squad!"
"Next time you have to give me some pointers!"
Watching his son surrounded by his teammates, all smiling together, Marenoshin stopped in his tracks, a smile curling at the corners of his mouth.
"That brat... he's really grown up."
Satoru walked over to him, grinning broadly. "So, what do you think? Satisfied?"
"Yeah, satisfied. Very satisfied."
Marenoshin's eyes were filled with emotion.
When he had sent his son here back then, he only hoped the boy would grow a little.
Never did he expect to see such a complete transformation.
Seeing Marechiyo as he was now, Marenoshin felt he could die at any moment without worry.
But suddenly, as if remembering something, he turned to Satoru.
"Hey, Satoru, what did those squad members mean by 'Group Four'?"
"Oh... that was Sōsuke's idea. He said to make management easier, he divided all the members into thirteen groups, with each seated officer leading one group."
"I thought it was a good idea, so we went with it."
"Zaraki leads Group One, Komamura leads Group Two, Tōsen leads Group Three..."
As Satoru explained, Marenoshin grew more and more astonished with each name.
Zaraki, Komamura Sajin, Kaname Tōsen...
These were all names of rising stars who had made names for themselves in recent years.
Each one was among the finest of vice-captains.
Especially Zaraki—from what he had observed earlier, the man could easily be considered captain-level, though he hadn't displayed his Bankai yet.
This wasn't just some thirteen groups—it was practically a new Gotei 13!
Marenoshin wiped cold sweat from his brow, forcibly changing the subject.
Better not say any more. If this continued, he might end up knowing too much and "commit suicide" with eight stab wounds in his back.
Since Captain-Commander Yamamoto hadn't said anything, why should he worry himself?
After the crowd dispersed, he approached Marechiyo.
Thanks to the medical team's treatment, Marechiyo's injuries had been fully treated and no longer hindered his movement.
Seeing the level of treatment, Marenoshin wanted to say, "If you've set up a mini Fourth Division, just say so—why call it a 'medical team'…"
"Old man."
Seeing Marenoshin approach, Marechiyo grew somewhat uneasy.
Under his gaze, Marenoshin broke into a smile.
Thwack!
Marenoshin reached out a large hand and clapped his son on the shoulder.
"Well done, Marechiyo. Your old man is proud of you."
"You've truly grown into a Shinigami who can stand on your own now."
Hearing this, Marechiyo was first surprised, then couldn't help but press his lips together.
Since childhood, he had always been scolded and criticized by his father.
Even though his older brothers were lazier and greedier than him, his father only ever singled him out.
For a long time, he wondered if his father actually disliked him.
So much so that, to avoid seeing him, his father had directly thrown him into the Eleventh Division.
One day, while chatting with Satoru, he brought up this matter.
Hearing this, Satoru burst into laughter.
"You idiot, it's so obvious! Your old man doesn't dislike you—he loves you dearly!"
Marechiyo retorted, "Then why does he always pick on me?"
Satoru swirled his wine glass. "Because he needs you to inherit his position."
"The Ōmaeda family's greatest foundation is naturally money, but on top of that, they also need someone who can hold their ground."
"All along, that person has been your old man, but he won't be around forever."
"Before that time comes, he must find someone to inherit everything he has."
"Even though you're not exactly outstanding, among his sons, you're the only one who's remotely presentable. Of course, he'll do everything he can to temper you, so that one day you can support the Ōmaeda family."
"Just like my teacher—usually, he maintains a stern, elderly image around others, but only around me and Uncle Kyoraku does he show his irritable side."
"Is it because he hates us? Clearly, it's because he loves us."
As he spoke, he laughed heartily.
Marechiyo fell into thought.
The part about his father seemed to make some sense.
But the last part, about the Captain-Commander… he felt that perhaps, besides love, there were some other complicated emotions mixed in.
Looking at Marenoshin before him, he smiled.
"Don't worry, old man. I understand everything now."
"I will support the Ōmaeda family properly."
"I, Marechiyo, will never tarnish the name of the Eleventh Division!"
That night, the Eleventh Division held a banquet.
All members without missions gathered in the square, lit bonfires, and feasted on meat and drink.
Satoru sat on a large animal-skin seat, laughing and drinking with everyone.
The next day, Eleventh Division member Marechiyo officially withdrew from the division.
...
…
Bathed in the morning sunlight, Yamamoto Shigekuni arrived in the courtyard and spent an hour diligently practicing sword swings.
After finishing his practice, he took a bath and entered his study, intending to practice calligraphy for a while.
But as soon as he stepped inside, he saw a certain someone lying in the study, fast asleep and snoring loudly.
Yamamoto's eyebrow twitched, and his blood pressure began to rise.
"What is this bastard doing sneaking into my study?"
He quickly looked around to see if any valuable items were missing.
But after a quick scan, nothing seemed to be gone.
Suddenly, Yamamoto noticed several extra sheets of paper on his desk.
Moving silently closer, he lowered his head to look.
On the desk lay a completed calligraphy piece.
"Free and Unfettered Wandering."
The writing was majestic and grand, uplifting to behold, executed entirely in regular script that was square and resolute.
Had he not guessed who wrote it, Yamamoto would have sworn this work was created by someone ambitious, steadfast, and reliable.
After examining it several times, he grew increasingly satisfied.
Who would have thought this kid would inexplicably sneak into his study in the middle of the night just to write calligraphy for him?
If he had just asked to write it directly, would Yamamoto have stopped him?
Truly, fools find joy in incomprehensible ways.
Yamamoto shook his head slightly and casually leaned his cane against the side.
Inside the cane, Ryūjin Jakka emitted a warm glow, raising the room's temperature slightly to prevent the guy sleeping on the floor from catching a cold.
Just as Ryūjin Jakka began heating up, Satoru suddenly opened his eyes.
Seeing Yamamoto standing there, he grinned.
"Morning, teacher."
"Hmm."
Yamamoto nodded absently, his mind still on the calligraphy before him, and responded offhandedly.
Satoru sat up, crossing his legs on the floor, and pulled his Captain's Haori out from under himself.
"If you like it, teacher, I can write more for you these days. Just let me know what style you prefer in advance."
Hearing this, Yamamoto suddenly looked over warily.
"Boy, did you cause some major trouble again that needs me to clean up your mess?!"
Satoru burst into loud laughter.