"Speak. This old man can handle it."
Inside the Squad 1 tea room, Yamamoto picked up a cup of boiling hot tea and took a full sip.
Due to the nature of his Zanpakutō, he didn't prefer warm tea like most people; instead, he favored boiling hot tea.
The hotter it was, the more it brought out the latent fragrance of the tea leaves.
Lately, Yamamoto had been keeping a low profile, trying to rediscover the refinement and patience he had once lost.
Through his relentless efforts, he had finally achieved some success.
His irritable and explosive temper was now greatly under control.
Even when Sasakibe Chōjirō compiled the foolish acts of certain nobles into a book and placed it before him, he remained unmoved.
Looking at the ugly deeds described in the text, Yamamoto even felt like laughing.
It was nothing more than a slight issue with an ancestral sacrifice that resulted in a dozen Gillians being released into Soul Society.
*A minor issue, not worth mentioning.*
Relying on this formidable patience, on the third day after the Tenchūren descended, Yamamoto chose to meet with his "favorite disciple."
"It's nothing much, really."
Naraku Sora scratched his head and disclosed everything that had happened in the Soul King Palace, deliberately omitting only the part where Ichibē Hyōsube wanted him to become the Spirit King.
He wasn't sure if Yamamoto's attitude would change upon learning of that matter.
He quite liked his current life and didn't want to introduce any inexplicable variables.
"Are you saying that the 'God of the Sword,' Nimaiya Ōetsu, admired your robust physique and the deep bond between you and your Zanpakutō, so he made an exception and taught you Zanpakutō forging techniques?"
Yamamoto's eyes widened.
He seriously suspected that either his ears were failing him, or Nimaiya Ōetsu had lost his mind.
This bastard brat was full of flaws and constantly raised people's blood pressure at the drop of a hat. What about him was worth passing down such a precious secret technique?
But when Naraku Sora verbally described the forging process, Yamamoto fell silent.
Although he had never seen the specific sword-forging process, he had enough life experience from living for thousands of years to easily judge its authenticity.
And that was exactly why Yamamoto was silent.
Although it was difficult, it was indeed real.
With Soul Society's current level, they might not be able to meet the requirements for forging swords, but given the scientific development speed of the Department of Research and Development...
Perhaps it wouldn't be long before Soul Society could become self-sufficient.
But whenever he remembered that a certain someone had founded that Department of Research and Development, Yamamoto couldn't quite hold back his exasperation.
Naraku Sora set down his teacup, refilled it with mountain spring water, and skillfully stoked the flames of Ryūjin Jakka beneath the tea stove.
As a wave of heat rose, the tea stove began to bubble once again.
"Besides that, there are also Tenjirō Kirinji's hot spring formulas. Those are a bit simpler."
A look of surprise appeared on Yamamoto's aged face. "The White Bone Hell and the Blood Pond Hell?"
"Eh, Teacher, you actually know about this?"
"Nonsense. Captain Unohana's Kaidō was taught by Tenjirō Kirinji. How could this old man not have dealt with him?"
Yamamoto drained the tea in his cup, unable to stop himself from muttering in his heart.
Looking at it this way, not only did this brat Naraku Sora fail to cause any disasters during his trip to the Soul King Palace, but he actually strengthened Soul Society's power?
Now it seemed he couldn't even find a reason to beat him up.
But intuition told Yamamoto that things were far less simple than described.
This rebellious disciple was absolutely hiding something from him.
"Is that all?"
"That's all!"
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure!"
The more certain Naraku Sora acted, the more Yamamoto was convinced that this brat had left out something else—something very serious.
*I should have just asked that kid Aizen instead. Aizen always looks like he respects his elders; he surely wouldn't have the heart to lie to an old man.*
"The matter regarding the indigenous god Mimihagi... this old man already knew about it back when I took Ukitake Jūshirō as a disciple."
Seeing that he really couldn't force an answer out of him, Yamamoto could only temporarily keep a tally on Naraku Sora and settle the score later when the brat inevitably made a mistake.
"That was never Jūshirō's property to begin with, so it is only natural that it was stripped and taken back. Furthermore, he regained his health because of it, which can be considered a good thing."
"By the way, how is Jūshirō recovering?"
Naraku Sora thought for a moment. "In terms of pure medical skill, Mayuri and Kisuke might be average, but when it comes to unconventional gadgets and bizarre inventions, they are in a league of their own among Soul Reapers."
"In their words, he should be able to get out of bed and walk today. To fully recover his health, he'll probably need a few more days to adjust to his internal organs..."
Before he could finish speaking, a noisy sound suddenly came from outside. The door to the tea room slid open, and a figure walked into the room.
His face was a bit pale, but his joy was difficult to conceal.
After hundreds of years, this was the first time Ukitake Jūshirō felt so relaxed, as if the shackles he had been carrying all along had been completely unlocked.
His entire body felt hundreds of pounds lighter.
"Teacher, Sora, you're both here."
"You came at the perfect time. This old man has some things to ask you." Yamamoto waved his hand, gesturing for Ukitake Jūshirō to sit down.
Since founding the Genryū style, he had taken in many disciples.
Later, using the Genryū style as a foundation, he established the Spiritual Arts Academy, laying a solid foundation for the Gotei 13's endeavors.
Even now, he was still the honorary headmaster of the Spiritual Arts Academy, and it could be said that his students were spread far and wide.
However, there were very few disciples who actually gave Yamamoto peace of mind.
Ukitake Jūshirō was one of them. Not only did he have excellent talent, but he also handled matters with a perfect balance of leniency and strictness. He was practically a natural-born successor for the Head Captain position.
It was just a pity that his health was poor. He had suffered from a severe illness since childhood, to the point where he would cough up blood even during training. It was very serious.
Now that he had finally recovered his health, Yamamoto was genuinely happy for him from the bottom of his heart.
Ukitake Jūshirō sat down next to Naraku Sora.
"What is it?"
Yamamoto casually glanced at a certain someone and cleared his throat. "It's actually nothing major. It's just about the indigenous god Mimihagi."
"Why did Ichibē Hyōsube kindly help you strip away His power?"
Ukitake Jūshirō revealed a strange expression.
"What kindness? Where was the kindness?"
"Ichibē Hyōsube attacked Sora for no reason, and the two of them fought a massive battle in the oldest Detached Palace. Seeing that Sora was gradually losing ground, I decisively chose to release the power of the eye buried in my lungs..."
"I suddenly remembered I left the stove on at home, I'm leaving first."
Taking advantage of Yamamoto's attention being drawn by Ukitake Jūshirō, Naraku Sora abruptly stood up. Without even bothering to open the door, he directly smashed through the wall with a green dash and disappeared into the distance without looking back.
Yamamoto was furious, but he had nowhere to vent it.
As the dignified Head Captain, he couldn't exactly charge out after him and scold his disciple in broad daylight. Wouldn't that just prove he lacked the ability to teach?
Moreover, that brat's Flash Step speed was indeed a bit faster than before, disappearing without a trace in the blink of an eye.
It was probably the effect of those hell hot springs.
Looking at the angry Yamamoto and the collapsed wall, Ukitake Jūshirō couldn't help but curl the corners of his mouth, revealing a genuine smile.
Even though their teacher's temper was growing increasingly irritable and his junior brother's personality was becoming more mischievous by the day, they both genuinely wanted to protect each other from the bottom of their hearts. They just showed it in different ways.
And this was exactly the life he had dreamed of.
Naraku Sora didn't dare to look back, terrified of seeing an old man wreathed in flames with killing intent materialized into physical form. He ran all the way to a valley in the Squad 1 barracks.
A turbulent stream of water cascaded down, smashing into the deep pool with a deafening roar.
A tall, straight figure stood beneath the waterfall, slashing forward again and again.
Although he didn't unleash any Reiatsu, with every swing of his blade, the water flow was severed to varying degrees, revealing the bare rock wall behind it.
Looking at the hard-earned results, a trace of gratification surfaced in Kyōraku Shunsui's eyes.
Sure enough, if a person didn't push themselves, they would never know how much potential they had.
Under the threat of Ryūjin Jakka, he had trained day and night beneath the waterfall. His body had grown tougher, and even his Reiatsu had strengthened a bit.
From initially only being able to sever a few feet of the water flow, to now cutting off more than half of the waterfall with a single strike—the sheer impact of the scene was enough to move anyone.
Most importantly, he now had a more profound understanding of his own power.
When reflected upon his Zanpakutō, the power of his Shikai would also rise accordingly.
Just as Kyōraku Shunsui took a short break and prepared to resume his training, a voice suddenly rang out beside his ear:
"My cheap senior brother, your path is too narrow."
Kyōraku Shunsui turned around in astonishment, only to see a familiar figure standing on the surface of the water behind him.
"Sora, you're back from the Soul King Palace?"
"Yeah, I've been back for a few days. I specifically came over to see how my senior brother's training is going."
Naraku Sora spoke without blushing or losing his breath.
After chatting a bit about his encounters in the Soul King Palace, Kyōraku Shunsui asked curiously:
"You just said my path is narrow. What do you mean by that?"
"Is my training method wrong?"
Naraku Sora shook his head. "The method is definitely right. Although Teacher is old and senile, he has been a teacher for thousands of years, so there's absolutely no problem with his experience."
Kyōraku Shunsui: "..."
He made a mental note of that sentence. When he saw Yamamoto later, he would definitely report it truthfully.
"Your biggest problem, senior brother, is that you have too many distracting thoughts in your head."
Naraku Sora slowly walked up to Kyōraku Shunsui and grinned.
"Training is just training. It's not for the sake of some specific thought. Only by being free of distractions can you unleash your full power."
"I call this the unity of mind and intent."
As he spoke, he slowly drew the Zanpakutō from his waist. His arm muscles tensed, and his body emitted a dull sound like a tightening bowstring, his muscles surging like water.
He concentrated all the vectors of his strength into a single point.
Facing the turbulent, mighty waterfall, he swung his blade horizontally with an almost unchanged posture—
First Secret Sword: Rhino Strike!
The noisy sound of falling water abruptly ceased. The raging waterfall was severed at this very moment, and time seemed to stand still for a fraction of a second.
A tyrannical tide of impact followed immediately after, surging and echoing in all directions. An earth-shattering roar erupted once more as the shockwaves spread wildly, causing the water's surface to violently tremble.
The expression on Kyōraku Shunsui's face froze, his previously good mood completely vanishing.
The results of training for so long couldn't even compare to a casual strike from this brat. The massive disparity was simply infuriating.
*Old Man Yama's judgment is getting worse and worse, taking in such an unreliable disciple!*
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