บท 92: Chapter 92 ⥤ A Complete Change in Style
As the first ray of sunlight fell on the Shin'ō dormitory, a slender figure stood washing up before the mirror.
His brown hair was combed down to partially cover his forehead, lending his appearance a scholarly fragility. About to report to his new Division, he carefully considered his appearance to avoid drawing unwanted attention.
After grooming, Aizen — already possessing a mild demeanor — looked even more harmless, like the most forgettable student on campus.
He was alone in the spacious dormitory.
Before the Academy's morning bell, Akira had already demonstrated his characteristic promptness, efficiently completing his morning routine and departing directly for the 11th Division.
There were no farewells — it was like any other day of skipping class. To him, this departure barely qualified as a goodbye, much less stirred any feelings of melancholy.
Aizen simply gathered his belongings and stood at the doorway, silently taking in the familiar scene as memories drifted through his mind.
At the last moment, the faintest smile played across his lips.
"Goodbye..."
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11th Division Barracks.
Akira arrived with high expectations, eager to begin his new life in the division.
He had wondered what sights would greet him at the 11th Division.
According to his previous memories, the 11th Division prized martial prowess — its members were naturally combative, and the barracks even featured fighting platforms for members to battle each other.
So even if he were to witness intense fighting or buildings being demolished in combat, Akira wouldn't have been surprised. Such was the typical state of the 11th Division.
But upon his arrival, he immediately sensed an atmosphere of dejection hanging in the air.
"Something's wrong!" Akira's gaze sharpened, "Very wrong!"
Instead of roaring battle cries, shirtless clashes, and fights to the death, the grounds were eerily silent. Dust covered everything, and piles of garbage lay scattered about.
A desolate mood hung everywhere, and the decrepit wooden corridors creaked painfully in the breeze.
Akira walked through with furrowed brows, searching for any sign of his fellow squad members.
Though the 11th Division fought on the front lines and suffered the highest casualty rate in the Gotei 13, their numbers shouldn't have been this low.
Where had everyone gone?
Stepping into the barracks, he discovered a scene that left him dumbfounded.
"Three Man."
"Two Sō."
"Pon!"
In the barracks, about tens of meters from the grounds, over ten Shinigami division members lounged around several tables, smoking, drinking, and playing Mājan in complete chaos, radiating an air of idleness.
{T/N: Mājan is japanese Mahjong. No chinese bullshit in the novel!}
The idle onlookers at the tables turned to look at Akira's entrance.
"Oh, new recruit reporting in?"
"Looks quite young, could he be a genius who just graduated from the Academy?"
"Want to play a few rounds? We don't have to bet money!"
"Damn it, did you steal a tile when I wasn't looking?!"
"Stop with the false accusations, this tile is clearly mine!"
"Did I even say which tile? You're confessing without being accused?!"
"Bastard, you're really asking for it!"
While Akira watched in astonishment, the group of idle Shinigami immediately erupted into a brawl.
Although they weren't using Reiatsu, their movements revealed them as battle-hardened veterans.
Their strikes were crisp and efficient, without unnecessary flourishes — if they threatened to stab your eye, they wouldn't waste time kicking your groin instead.
Just as chaos engulfed the room, a young man with black, slightly curly hair rushed in from outside the barracks.
It was Gosuke, whom Akira had met at the 1st Division.
As the acting Captain, he held some authority in the 11th Division, and with one stern rebuke, the group of idlers slunk away.
Once calm returned, he bowed apologetically, "I'm very sorry, Captain Kisaragi—"
Akira cut him off, "Don't call me Captain! I haven't been appointed yet, and it would be awkward to explain to old man Yamamoto."
Though his appointment seemed certain, becoming a Captain immediately after graduation was unprecedented.
Moreover, it might raise suspicions that Captain-Commander had framed the previous Captain Azashiro to clear the way for his own disciple's rise to power — a stepping stone toward unifying the Gotei 13 and dominating Soul Society.
While Genryūsai certainly had the combat prowess to accomplish such schemes, the paranoid nobles already spent their days spinning conspiracy theories.
To avoid suspicion and give the bald eagle a few more years, Akira decided to wait before accepting the position of 11th Division Captain.
"Then, Lord Kisaragi it is." Gosuke said, quickly grasping the situation.
"That's fine." Akira agreed.
As soon as he spoke, Gosuke's expression turned dejected, matching the earlier group of idlers.
"Actually, the situation is like this..."
Through his explanation, Akira finally understood why the combat-focused 11th Division had fallen into such disarray.
After Kenpachi Kuruyashiki died at Sōya's hands in the Kenpachi battle, the new Captain Azashiro became the 8th Kenpachi.
With his Zanpakutō's ability to create Reishi clones, Sōya single-handedly took over all the division's duties.
With nothing else to do, the division members had to find other ways to pass their time.
Initially, everyone maintained their enthusiasm through combat practice, working up a sweat and displaying their fighting spirit. But even this grew tedious over time.
After all, you can't actually kill your comrades with a sword, can you?
Under Kuruyashiki's leadership, division members would join missions to hunt Hollows and suppress rebels. Though the Captain dealt with most opponents himself, at least the others got to taste battle and swing their swords.
But after Sōya became Captain, mission completion efficiency skyrocketed.
Often, just as everyone eagerly prepared for a new mission, he would return and announce he had already handled the target.
With such overwhelming efficiency, the others were left idle. Eventually, they resorted to passing time with Mājan and similar diversions.
"Don't judge them by how they appear now." Gosuke said with an awkward but polite smile, "They're actually quite capable fighters. They'll probably regain their fighting spirit after just two missions. The only problem is that, given their personalities, they might not follow orders during missions."
He was just an Acting Captain — or more accurately, only a Lieutenant.
Many in the 11th Division refused to acknowledge his position as Acting Captain, simply because he wasn't strong enough.
Gosuke wasn't a combat-oriented Shinigami. His appointment left him bewildered — a capable administrative Officer suddenly promoted to Lieutenant, then thrust into the role of Acting Captain after Sōya's imprisonment.
The rise happened too quickly. Not only did the division members reject him, but Gosuke himself struggled to accept it.
"But what does that have to do with me? I'm just a newly recruited division member." Akira said, blinking innocently and showing no intention of helping with these troubles.
Gosuke fell silent, feeling helpless as he looked at the harmless-looking youth before him, at a loss for words.
It seemed impossible that this was the same person who had beaten Shiraki Shin'ichi to death with his bare hands.
"Relax." Akira said, patting his shoulder, "Now isn't a good time. When things have completely settled down, you can hand over what Captain Azashiro entrusted to you."
After a moment's silence, Gosuke studied the young man intently. Seeing genuine sincerity in his expression rather than deception, he felt more at ease.
Though young, this man's approach to handling matters resembled Kuruyashiki's style — which was quite reassuring.
Hopefully that day would come soon.
With these thoughts in mind, Gosuke began gathering people to clean up the barracks. The first impression had been poor enough — they couldn't let their future Captain handle such menial work.
Once Akira took office, Gosuke hoped to transfer to a Division with a more relaxed atmosphere and live out his days in peace.
The neighboring 12th Division seemed perfect.
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12th Division Barracks.
Looking at the scene before him, Aizen briefly wondered if he had come to the wrong place.
His previous investigation had shown the 12th Division to have a strong research focus, specializing in the study of spirit tools. They had established various research groups, with Senjumaru Shutara's being the most renowned.
Though Aizen had formed certain expectations before arriving, the reality before him completely shattered his understanding.
This scene was even more absurd than if Akira had pulled an altar table out of his crotch!
The spacious barracks displayed a dazzling array of ingredients, meticulously arranged by category.
Every imaginable food item was present — chicken, duck, fish, meat, fresh seafood, vegetables, fruits — whether it ran on land, flew through sky, or swam in water.
Shelves stretched upward in orderly rows, laden with gleaming kitchen utensils. The back shelves held laboratory equipment: measuring cups, filters, reaction kettles, droppers, syringes, gas collection bottles, and thermometers.
Large instruments that couldn't fit on shelves stood nearby. Light Reishi centrifuges, mixing oscillators, high-speed dispersers, Reishi extractors...
Division members hurried about in white aprons worn over their Shihakushō, ferrying ingredients to and fro.
At the barracks' edge, several stoves blazed with roaring flames, their mingled aromas creating an atmosphere that defied description.
Aizen began to doubt whether he had made the right choice.
Finding a quiet corner, he first stowed his belongings, then began to observe his surroundings carefully.
Everyone had their own tasks, carrying items, processing ingredients, controlling fires, wielding ladles. They didn't even notice his arrival, busy with their own work with single-minded focus.
Though he wasn't clear what had happened to the 12th Division, the scene before him reminded Aizen of the cookbook that Akira had given him earlier.
The book contained everything from basic dishes to complex cuisine, and he could spot corresponding recipes being prepared by the busy figures around him. Intrigued, he wandered through the barracks, observing the various cooking stations.
Until he came near a stove.
The 6th Seat of the 12th Division was enthusiastically preparing what appeared to be a tofu dish.
Aizen stood quietly in an unobtrusive position, watching with interest.
But after less than a minute, he shook his head in disappointment.
The cooking skill was abysmal, even worse than the Shin'ō Academy cafeteria cooks — the clumsy knife work alone was pure ingredient waste.
"Is something wrong?"
Aizen turned around, recognizing the speaker.
12th Division Captain, Kirio Hikifune.
"You must be Sōsuke Aizen who submitted the division application earlier?" Kirio offered a kind smile, "I apologize that we couldn't spare anyone to welcome you — our research has entered a crucial phase."
Aizen was puzzled — could cooking be considered research?
"Well, young people need to learn to accept new things." As if reading his thoughts, Kirio gestured toward the instruments at the back of the barracks, "Cuisine is the best material for containing souls!"
"Containing souls?" Aizen's interest grew. Her words seemed to align closely with his current research.
Although the scene before him differed from what he had imagined, it seemed his choice hadn't been wrong.
The 12th Division indeed had many things to learn...
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After the graduation assessment ended, peace returned to the Seireitei.
During their leisure time after meals and tea breaks, division members would share the day's news and gossip.
Few cared about where the graduating geniuses had been assigned — most were preoccupied with their own daily lives.
After a few days in the 11th Division, Akira had settled into the routine.
Though the division had grown somewhat lax without a Captain, it remained a combat unit whose overall strength and quality surpassed other divisions.
The 11th Division's primary responsibility was frontline combat. With no current conflicts or emergencies, they had little to do.
This arrangement suited Akira perfectly. Gosuke had assigned him a special investigator role to allow him to focus on training. While the position carried limited authority, it offered welcome flexibility.
His daily duties consisted simply of patrolling designated areas and either handling or reporting any anomalies he discovered.
As things settled into a comfortable rhythm, Akira's dormant ambitions stirred once more.
Now firmly established in the Division, it was time for this man of his word to fulfill his earlier promises.
⤫⤬⤫
T/N: If you want more chapters like this, check out my Patreon! I'm constantly translating and the difference will keep getting bigger!
For just $1 you can access all the extra content, and descriptive images, costs only $2!
That's it and happy reading! (-‿◦)
https://www.patreon.com/mrblackwing
บท 93: Chapter 93 ⥤ Let's Take Off Your Clothes First
A cheerful figure wove between the barracks, humming a merry tune.
"What a beautiful sunny day. Red flowers and green grass."
He paused before an ancient mansion that exuded luxury. A plaque with gilded characters adorned its vermillion main gate.
[Shihōin Estate]
Upon seeing the youth's sudden appearance, the guard Shinigami startled briefly before recognizing him.
"Lord Kisaragi!" The guard bowed deeply with great respect.
Since Akira's previous visit to the Shihōin estate, every member of the Shihōin clan had come to know this youth.
As the one who helped Lady Yoruichi reclaim their family's hereditary Zanpakutō, he was a true benefactor of the Shihōin. None would dare look down upon him.
"Please wait while I announce you!"
The guard vanished with Shunpo as soon as he finished speaking.
Akira watched in surprise, not having expected the Shihōin house to be so well-established that even a mere guard would possess such mastery of Shunpo.
Moments later, the guard reappeared with an inviting gesture.
Following his lead through several grand corridors, Akira arrived at a dojo.
The dojo was empty — no sign of Yoruichi.
As he glanced around, a sharp whistle cut through the air from above. An agile figure descended, powerful thighs striking down like a battle axe.
Bang!
Akira caught the powerful strike with his hand and raised his eyebrows at the figure before him.
Beads of sweat glistened on her tan skin, purple ponytail flowing down her back, form-fitting black clothes accentuating her perfect curves.
Years of training had only enhanced the girl's charm, making her like a fine wine — rich and passionate.
"Perfect timing! I've developed a new Hakuda technique. Help me test it." Yoruichi said without preamble.
Before he could refuse, her nimble form launched into a flurry of attacks.
To her, Akira was unmatched in Hakuda talent. Few in all of Soul Society could rival his ability.
She regretted that he hadn't joined 2nd Division — they could have trained together daily.
Her slender fist whistled through the air, creating shock waves and crackling with what seemed like lightning.
Their combat had evolved dramatically since their first match, when Akira could only defend and occasionally steal a technique with his remarkable talent. Now, armed with Genryūsai's teachings, he could engage her head-on.
As her graceful fist struck, he extended his right hand to meet it.
Jajanken: Paper!
Snap!
In one fluid motion, Akira's right hand enveloped her slender fist, the movement deceptively gentle.
But when his grip fully closed, it erupted with a heart-pounding, thunderous roar. Waves of force tore through the spacious dojo.
The familiar technique left Yoruichi momentarily stunned, unable to recover.
Akira chuckled, his right wrist turning to unleash a new close-quarters grappling technique.
Yoruichi's pupils contracted as she sensed an overwhelming, inescapable force bearing down, instantly locking away all her options.
Though she tried to counter with her exquisite Hakuda skills, Akira gave her no opening.
His relentless storm of attacks drove her back step by step until she reached the dojo's edge.
Complete suppression!
She found herself outmaneuvered at every turn. The fight ended with her hands locked together, right leg pinned by his knee, leaving her completely immobilized. Despite her superior Reiatsu, his technical and physical dominance rendered that advantage useless.
Finding his face so close to hers, Yoruichi turned away with a light cough and declared decisively.
"Ahem, I surrender!"
Akira released her hands, wearing a regretful expression.
What a pity. Had her persisted longer, he could have followed through on his earlier thought and pinned her down completely.
⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬
Tea room.
Akira sipped the fine tea poured by the servant, quietly waiting.
Soon, Yoruichi appeared before him again, fresh from her bath. She wore loose robes, her damp purple hair falling over her shoulders, a faint fragrance drifting through the study.
"What brings you here? Have you finally decided to join my Second Division?" The girl's face bore a mischievous smile, her attitude unchanged despite her earlier defeat.
"We'll discuss that later." Akira waved his hand, "I'm here about the Azachiro family's property."
He briefly explained Sōya's actions.
"I see." Yoruichi crossed her arms, "You want to avoid noble entanglements, so you're selling off the Azachiro family's assets."
He nodded, "Among the nobles, I trust you the most. You wouldn't cheat me, right?"
The girl grinned and gave his shoulder a hearty pat.
"I could never be so ungrateful. Leave it to Ōmaeda — he has the connections to sell everything quickly. Don't worry about it."
Akira nodded, "Thank you, then."
"What are you thanking me for with our relationship!" Yoruichi patted her chest spiritedly, causing a slight ripple.
Her casual manner made it clear she had thrown on only a bath robe before coming.
"What relationship?" Akira asked, bewildered, snapping out of his profound observations.
Yoruichi glanced at him, sitting cross-legged across the tea table without concern. She poured herself a cup of tea and said with a serious expression.
"Didn't you agree to marry into our family before?"
"??"
No one knew where the rumor had started, but Yoruichi seemed convinced of it.
⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬
Leaving the Shihōin estate, Akira walked along the streets of Seireitei.
He tugged at his Shin'ō Academy uniform — something he wouldn't have noticed if Yoruichi hadn't pointed it out.
Gosuke had promised to prepare a new Shihakushō for him, but after searching through the entire 11th Division storage, they'd found it empty. They'd had to request one from the 12th Division instead.
Several days had passed, and the Shihakushō should be ready now.
After some thought, he bypassed his Division's barracks and headed toward the 12th Division. He would collect his Shihakushō and check on how Aizen was settling in.
If Aizen wasn't comfortable there, he could use his connections to transfer him to the 11th Division early. Together, they could bide their time for a few decades before taking the old bald eagle's position.
⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬
12th Division Barracks.
At the main gate, Akira's nose twitched as he detected unusual scents wafting through the air, his brows furrowing in curiosity.
"Miso, tempura, fried cutlets, tofu soup... Is there a feast going on?"
Thanks to his frequent late-night visits to the Academy cafeteria, he could easily identify every dish just from its aroma.
Intrigued, Akira slipped into the barracks.
Following the scents through two corridors, he arrived at an enormous space.
It was a kitchen. He stood dumbfounded at the sight, momentarily disoriented.
Who am I, where am I, what am I doing?
Before him sprawled a bustling cooking operation, with countless people diligently attending to their tasks — so focused that none noticed the uninvited guest in their midst.
Using his natural talent, Akira seamlessly blended in, weaving between stoves and prep tables.
"The fish balls lack flavor—failure."
"These radishes are poorly selected—failure."
"The pork skin is overcooked, no texture—failure!"
"The pudding falls apart at a touch—ultimate failure!"
"Uh, let's skip the intestines..."
Eyeing the pork intestine sashimi before him, Akira promptly abandoned any thought of tasting it.
Judging by their poor cooking techniques, this intestine dish had to be the worst of the lot — to call it "shit" would be literally accurate.
Aizen observed Akira moving through the crowd, his composed face betraying hints of exasperation.
Though he knew his friend was unreliable, brazenly sneaking into the 12th Division like this was asking to end up on a cutting board himself.
"Why are you here?" Aizen set down his work and approached the speed-eating intruder.
"Looking for you." Akira placed his empty plate down with a grin, "I thought if you weren't adjusting well to Twelfth Division life, I could help transfer you to the Eleventh Division."
Aizen sighed helplessly. Things had predictably taken a familiar turn.
Seeing Akira about to continue his freeloading spree, he quickly reached out to stop him.
"These aren't ordinary dishes. They're Captain Hikifune's experimental research."
Akira's eyes widened as he stared at the serious-faced youth, his expression clearly saying "I'm not well-read, don't try to fool me".
"How can this awful food be considered research?" He wondered.
In his impression, research should involve a group of white-coated intellectuals using various instruments in a bright, clean laboratory, engaged in heated discussions using terminology he couldn't understand at all.
The scene before him bore no resemblance to research whatsoever. More like a lively food market with a bunch of amateur cooks trying their best (and failing).
Seeing his skepticism, Aizen explained the principles of Soul Cooking.
Akira's eyes suddenly lit up with understanding, "So you're telling me eating can make you stronger? How's it going? Have you made anything that works yet?"
Aizen shook his head.
The experiment had only recently begun, and the researchers were still mastering basic cooking skills. The next phase would take considerable time.
"Is there anything that at least tastes decent?" Akira asked, lowering his expectations after sampling the mediocre dishes.
"Try this." Aizen said, bringing over a bowl of tofu pudding from a nearby prep table.
The priest's eyes widened at the sight.
This dish stood leagues above the others. Its appearance alone put everything else to shame.
The crystal-clear white jade tofu pudding quivered like jelly at the slightest movement. This wasn't mere cooking — this was—
Art!
Taking the bowl and spoon, Akira drew a deep breath and began his tasting ceremony.
The moment it touched his tongue, the pudding's fragrance bloomed. Its silken texture, like condensed milk, melted instantly. Flavors danced between his lips and teeth, leaving a lingering sweetness.
After devouring the entire bowl in moments, he pushed it toward Aizen with a serious expression.
"Another bowl!"
"There isn't any more." Aizen spread his hands, having anticipated this reaction.
He had only prepared enough soybeans for two bowls of tofu pudding, planning to save the second portion for himself.
Akira didn't question him and turned to survey the other dishes.
However, after experiencing the tofu pudding, the other dishes' poor quality killed his appetite immediately.
He shook his head and glanced at Aizen, noticing his new Shihakushō. Combined with his slightly drooping brown hair, Aizen gave off a rather frail impression.
"By the way, do you know where to get a Shihakushō?"
Aizen pointed, "Remember the Shutara Lab we visited last time?"
Recognition dawned on Akira as he recalled the Lab's distinctive architecture — like a dye house with colorful, magnificent fabrics hanging everywhere.
"Alright, I'll head over there then."
Without another word, he strode out of the kitchen, giving Aizen no chance to respond.
Watching him leave, Aizen sighed helplessly, hoping his friend wouldn't get himself into too much trouble.
⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬
Arriving at the Shutara Lab again, the familiar scene greeted him.
The dramatic architecture featured several bone-like giant arms embracing the cocoon-shaped building, with colorful silk ribbons and fabrics floating in the air.
After explaining his purpose to the guard Shinigami, they courteously led him to a laboratory.
"Lady Shutara is inside."
Akira pushed open the door to find countless brilliant brocades cascading from the ceiling. The rhythmic sound of looms echoed from deep within, occasionally broken by the sharp snap of tearing fabric.
"We meet again..."
As he studied the room's structure, the tap of wooden clogs drew nearer until they stopped before him.
An elegant woman with pale skin approached, her beautiful black eyes assessing him carefully.
Just as Akira began to feel uneasy under her scrutiny, Senjumaru made a startling declaration.
"Since you're here for a Shihakushō, let's take your clothes off first..."
⤫⤬⤫
T/N: If you want more chapters like this, check out my Patreon! I'm constantly translating and the difference will keep getting bigger!
For just $1 you can access all the extra content, and descriptive images, costs only $2!
That's it and happy reading! (-‿◦)
https://www.patreon.com/mrblackwing
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