"Good wine!"
Shiba Kuroba deftly uncorked the jug and took a deep gulp. The rich aroma wafted through the air as he drank with the fearless swagger of a veteran.
His carefree posture drew the attention of everyone present. Even Kyoraku Shunsui blinked in surprise, tempted to speak up and stop him.
After all, this wasn't just any sake—it was a thousand-year-aged brew once gifted to Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni himself, a unique vintage even Shunsui rarely dared to open.
In the Shin'ō Academy's massive testing arena, only two individuals remained composed: Aizen Sōsuke and Ichimaru Gin. The others—testers, candidates, and observers alike—watched with a mix of awe and disbelief.
Aizen and Gin weren't here just for the show. Their true purpose was more insidious: to gauge whether Yamamoto was still fixated on the events of a century ago—the Hollowfication Incident that had nearly torn apart the Gotei 13.
They had their answer now.
But from Aizen's viewpoint, Yamamoto had misstepped. Entrusting a test of this magnitude to someone like Kuroba—a civilian with no known background or political ties—seemed rash.
Still, Aizen understood Yamamoto's caution. After both Shiba Kaien and Shiba Isshin suffered "accidents," any survivor of the Shiba clan was bound to attract suspicion.
Aizen had already taken precautions, manipulating events to prevent Kuroba from joining the Gotei 13, fearing his own Zanpakutō's secret—Kyōka Suigetsu's perfect hypnosis—might be exposed if used too openly.
Letting someone unpredictable like Kuroba into the equation was too dangerous.
"Wife, want a sip? It's freezing out—this'll warm you up," Kuroba offered innocently, wafting the jug toward Kuchiki Rukia, his words still thick with drunkenness.
Rukia's expression froze. The moment he said "wife," her instincts screamed to deny it—but before she could react, Kuroba had staggered closer, as clingy as a cursed hell butterfly.
Byakuya Kuchiki, standing not far away, visibly tensed. His icy expression turned glacial.
"You bastard…" growled Abarai Renji, fists clenched.
The word "wife" rang in his ears like a curse. He had tolerated much, but this—this—was open provocation.
He didn't even wait for permission. Renji blurred forward in a flash of Shunpo, appearing directly in front of Kuroba.
Gasps erupted across the crowd.
A seated officer of the 6th Division had just made a move—not against a Hollow, but a drunken test candidate.
Renji didn't hesitate. "If you won't wake up, I'll wake you myself!"
He reached for the wine jug in one hand, raising the other to strike Kuroba across the face.
"Renji, don't!" Rukia shouted, panic flashing in her voice.
This wasn't about feelings anymore. It was about her duty to Captain Ukitake, the only one who had spoken for Kuroba. She couldn't let his trust be betrayed.
"...My wife was bullied?"
Kuroba's drunken haze broke just enough for his gaze to sharpen. His long black hair lifted in the air, as if reacting to the sudden surge of spiritual power.
A moment later—
BOOM!
Kuroba's Reiryoku flared violently.
Waves of spiritual pressure burst out from him like a shockwave, warping the air and forcing everyone within range to brace themselves. Some stumbled; others dropped to one knee.
Renji was blasted back before he could even touch Kuroba.
He flew through the air—straight toward the Reiryoku testing device.
CRACK!
The impact sent a metallic jolt through the machine. Numbers on the display began flickering furiously, jumping higher and higher until they stopped with a loud chime:
Ding! Spiritual Pressure Level: 709—Class: Seventh Tier. Evaluation: Top-tier potential.
The field went dead silent.
Everyone stared at the screen. The recorded level was seven tier—marking the uppermost tier of raw spiritual pressure before one entered lieutenant-level rankings.
This number was leagues above the three tier level Gin had claimed earlier.
Whispers rippled through the crowd.
Ichimaru Gin's eyes narrowed, his foxlike grin flickering.
Aizen, hands folded calmly, hid a subtle glint of interest.
Rukia looked down at Kuroba—still holding the jug, still drunk—and felt the weight of something far larger begin to shift in Seireitei.
It was said that three tiers had now become the seventh level. The gap was enormous, even unthinkable for most.
"Did you just harass my wife? Then you deserve a beating!"
Shiba Kuroba's voice suddenly rang out.
Abarai Renji, who had just completed his strike on the spiritual pressure assessment machine, was distracted by the device's prompt tone, eyes still glued to the flickering numbers.
He never expected a drunk man to cross more than ten meters in a blink—especially not someone seemingly unconscious just moments ago.
But there he was.
Kuroba tilted his head back, took another swig of wine, and in one smooth motion clenched his fist. His drunken sway vanished as focused spiritual pressure gathered around his arm.
The air distorted.
Renji's instincts, honed from battles under Captain Byakuya's command, screamed danger. His eyes widened as Kuroba's fist filled his vision, the Reiatsu compressing around it like a hammer of iron.
But before he could act—
Flash Step.
In an instant, Renji found himself standing beside his captain, Kuchiki Byakuya, the latter's calm presence like an invisible barrier.
BOOM!
The impact echoed like a thunderclap.
A shockwave tore through the hall. Wind roared past as the test machine was torn from its moorings, flung like a ragdoll through the air.
It slammed into the far wall with enough force to shatter stone, embedding itself deep and leaving a gaping hole behind.
Silence. Utter silence.
All eyes were fixed on the cracked wall… and the machine half-buried in it.
Then—
Crack. The display panel flickered and recalibrated.
"1000. Ten tier Spiritual Pressure."
The synthetic voice from the machine echoed unnaturally across the test site.
For a moment, no one moved. No one spoke.
Some rubbed their eyes, convinced they were hallucinating. Others simply stood frozen, their thoughts blank except for one shared word:
"…The hell?"
Even Renji was stunned, turning toward his captain with disbelief.
Byakuya, expression unreadable, let a slow breath escape.
Kuroba, meanwhile, took another swig of sake, swayed a little, and muttered, "Don't touch what's mine... even if I'm drunk."