Rumbling—
The sound crashed like thunder, reverberating across all four quarters of the Shinō Academy. From the central courtyard, a blinding column of spiritual light soared toward the heavens. A deafening detonation accompanied it, shaking the academy grounds and startling every instructor and trainee.
Akira's Reiatsu surged into the sky like a beam. The Cero from the attacking Menos Grande—a fully formed Gillian-class—had just condensed into its maw when the young Shinigami's Kidō collided with it. The impact instantly vaporized the Menos and its Cero, reducing both to particles of spirit energy that scattered like dust motes in the wind. But the blast didn't stop there.
The attack continued skyward, slicing cleanly through the clouds above the Shinō Academy, leaving a gaping hole of raw spiritual force. The aftermath resembled a divine column connecting the heavens and earth, a celestial lance of Reiatsu that gradually dissipated, leaving silence in its wake.
"Bakudō #81: Danku—Split Void… simultaneously with—wait, that was Hadō #88, Hiryū Gekizoku Shinten Raihō…!"
"No way…!"
"He abandoned the incantation and still maintained over 80% power?"
"Even most captains can't do that!"
From the surrounding balconies, courtyards, and rooftops, dozens of instructors and Shinigami officers from the Gotei 13 had gathered, stunned into silence. The buzz among them now rose into incredulous murmurs.
Among the crowd stood Jūshirō Ukitake and Shunsui Kyōraku, their gazes fixated on the young prodigy standing amidst the cratered training yard.
"Shunsui," Ukitake whispered, voice caught somewhere between disbelief and admiration, "did you see what he did to that Hadō?"
Kyōraku lowered his straw hat slightly, concealing the widening of his eyes. "Yes… and I don't think I've ever seen anyone, not even Tessai Tsukabishi in his prime, modify Kidō structures like that on the fly."
He gestured subtly toward the crater. "That wasn't just Hiryū Gekizoku Shinten Raihō. Akira altered its spatial vector. Instead of firing from the hand, he channeled it through the ground and detonated it underneath the Menos. The result was a contained upward explosion—less splash damage, more concentrated force."
"That's beyond chantless casting," Ukitake added. "That's structural reengineering."
In Bleach canon, high-level Kidō—especially above #80—requires long chants, intricate spiritual shaping, and delicate control. Even captains like Byakuya or Hitsugaya rarely abandon incantations on spells above #60. Only top-tier Kidō users like Aizen, Tessai, and Yamamoto could abandon chants while preserving their destructive scale.
And here was a student—no, barely a month into enrollment—executing and customizing Hadō #88.
"Captain Kyōraku…" one lieutenant murmured, "could you have cast that spell the same way?"
Shunsui gave a dry chuckle. "I could cast it stronger. But not like that."
He tipped his hat higher and locked eyes with Akira from across the field.
"This boy is rewriting the rules."
Even the stoic Yamamoto Genryūsai narrowed his eyes in rare surprise. The head of the Gotei 13 had witnessed prodigies like Kisuke Urahara, Gin Ichimaru, and Aizen Sōsuke emerge during his centuries of command. But none of them had manipulated Kidō theory like this, this early.
"He shapes Kidō as if sculpting clay," Yamamoto thought. "His control over reiryoku rivals even the founder of the Kidō Corps."
A bitter sting of regret surfaced in the old captain's mind. He remembered the night Chōjirō Sasakibe first reported on Akira's early potential—when the boy had declined the Kenpachi title.
"No wonder he scoffed at 'Kenpachi.' It wasn't arrogance—it was certainty," Yamamoto thought. "His strength doesn't lie only in sword or strength… but intellect."
In the observation rows, Unohana Retsu—who once bore the Kenpachi name herself—watched quietly. Her lieutenant, Isane Kotetsu, leaned forward and whispered, "Captain, is this… normal?"
Unohana said nothing at first. But her eyes didn't leave Akira. "No," she finally murmured. "This isn't just genius. It's evolution."
Shiba Isshin, the examiner overseeing the assessment, was frozen in place. His mouth opened to speak, but all he could do was chuckle awkwardly. "You little… I told you to show me a Kidō below level 80. Not incinerate the sky."
Akira stepped calmly before him, dusting off his sleeves. "You said demonstrate. You didn't say I couldn't be efficient."
"Efficient?!" Isshin gestured to the still-flickering crater where the Menos had stood. "That wasn't efficient. That was obliteration."
He sighed, scratching his head. "Alright. You pass."
"Thank you, Teacher Isshin."
As a member of the esteemed Shiba clan, Isshin had been raised with expectations—and exceptional Kidō training. Yet even he couldn't cast a Hadō over #80 without a chant and retain full destructive power. Worse, he couldn't restructure the output to launch from the ground.
And Akira had done it after one month of academy attendance.
"Thank the Soul King he didn't destroy the main building," Isshin muttered under his breath. "I'd be paying for repairs for a decade."
Before the next command could be issued, the Kidō Division assistants brought out another restrained Gillian.
"Next up: swordsmanship."
"Same format as before. Eliminate the target using Zanjutsu only—no Kidō."
Akira remained where he was, arms folded, his zanpakutō still sheathed at his side.
"Hey," Isshin called out, "you gonna move, or—?"
A faint hum of spiritual steel filled the air. The next moment, a deafening clang sounded from above.
Eight spectral swords, forged entirely from condensed Reiatsu, descended like divine spears. Each blade pierced a vital point on the Gillian—head, heart, limbs, legs—pinning it to the arena floor before it could even form another Cero.
The Menos twitched once. Then it vanished, consumed by the crushing weight of Reiatsu and sword energy.
"That's the same move he used against Hirako Shinji," Isshin whispered.
He hadn't been present for that duel, but Shiba Kaien had described it clearly—how Shinji had been nailed to the wall with just three spirit-forged swords.
Now, Akira wielded eight.
Unohana, watching quietly, furrowed her brow. "Half a month ago, he pushed me back using this technique. Today… his control has doubled."
This wasn't just raw strength. Each sword was controlled with surgical precision, guided telekinetically like a conductor with his orchestra. That level of manipulation required intimate mastery over one's zanpakutō spirit and Reiatsu pathways—a feat only possible after deep communion with the blade.
"He's not just mimicking Zanjutsu principles," Kyōraku murmured. "He's rewriting them into Kidō form and integrating it with his swordplay. That's… that's fusion."
Ukitake nodded gravely. "We can't teach him anymore, Shunsui."
The two captains glanced toward Yamamoto. The old man remained still, his staff planted into the ground.
"Let the boy go," Yamamoto finally said. "The Gotei 13 was built for Shinigami like him."
And in the cratered training ground, Akira stood calmly, his presence like a blade drawn but not yet swung.
Ready for whatever test came next.
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