bookpower Chapter 278
Chapter 278
Chapter 278
2-in-1chapter:
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A mournful cry rang out from inside the room.
“‘My life is over!!’ …What’s going on?”
Kisuke Urahara frowned, confused.
Lately, he had been sneaking off to Hueco Mundo whenever he could to watch Aizen’s Hōgyoku experiments. At first, Aizen had treated him rather dismissively: although there was no attempt to hide the data (all of it was laid open for Kisuke to study), Aizen always spoke as if lecturing an inexperienced junior. Kisuke didn’t mind—he simply concentrated on learning.
After all, he’d already planned something similar himself, so he adapted quickly. Before long, he began proposing improvements on the existing results. When Kisuke first mentioned modifying the Hōgyoku, Aizen almost laughed—given Aizen’s own resources, experience, and grasp of spiritual power, what suggestions could Kisuke possibly offer?
Surprisingly, after reading Kisuke’s paper, Aizen discovered that the plan really did work. Originally, the Hōgyoku-based Hollowfication experiments could only work on Captain-level (and above) Shinigami, and even then they inevitably lost their reason, becoming mindless, instinct-driven monstrosities. But by adopting Kisuke’s adjustments, the threshold would be lowered, letting someone with Lieutenant-level strength withstand the process. Not only that, they could retain their reasoning ability, subject to their overall power.
Aizen was taken aback by Kisuke’s insight. Shortly thereafter, Kisuke submitted a second paper—this time about Arrancarizing Hollows with a focus on targeted abilities. Previously, Arrancar transformations had been random in terms of which skills got stronger. Now, they could specify which traits to enhance during the process. This breakthrough went a long way toward Aizen’s pet project: engineering Arrancar designed to counter Yamamoto specifically.
From that point on, Aizen’s attitude transformed completely. He involved Kisuke in virtually every experiment, and they began speaking as equals rather than mentor and disciple. The two of them launched into a prolific joint re
In a remote plain in the northern 72nd district of the Rukongai stood a small group: Komamura Sajin, Tōsen Kaname, Ichimaru Gin, and Soifon—all silently facing Kaelith. He had a stack of white, human-shaped boards in front of him.
“Alright, so that’s the Tenshintai’s function.” Kaelith finished explaining. “You four have the power to master Bankai but haven’t made the final breakthrough yet. I’m giving you the chance to learn it now. I’ve explained the risks and the possible consequences of failure. If you’re ready, then step forward!”
No sooner had he finished than all four raised their hands in unison. Kaelith’s eyes gleamed with approval.
Standing off to one side, Kisuke felt his pulse quicken. As ridiculous as it was, these four intended to forcibly achieve Bankai today, all at once. The Tenshintai’s manifestation was extremely dangerous. Failure could mean never achieving Bankai for the rest of their life. Out of sheer conscience, he couldn’t help but protest:
“Everyone—your natural talent is plenty. If you keep training patiently, you’ll reach Bankai eventually. Using the Tenshintai simply speeds the process, but the risk is huge. Are you really sure?”
Tōsen Kaname shook his head immediately, undeterred. Among them, his determination to grow stronger was the fiercest. Initially discovered by Kaelith, he’d been just an unremarkable soul, unversed in battle. Through sheer fervor for vengeance—and loyalty to Kaelith—he ascended to Lieutenant-level with astonishing speed. In truth, even if he didn’t resort to the Tenshintai, he was only a step away from Bankai, likely to attain it within two decades. But even two decades felt too long. The sooner he gained strength, the sooner he could repay Kaelith.
Ichimaru Gin merely smiled at Kisuke, ignoring his caution. He had no grand revenge or lofty ambition, only a simple wish: to stay by Kaelith’s side. He likened himself to a snake that needed external warmth to survive, and Kaelith was his sun. As long as the sun shone there, Gin would climb toward it, pushing himself to grow stronger—warmer. He still remembered the taste of that persimmon cake shared on a snowy night, and he’d never forget it.
Komamura Sajin stood tall. “I’m not afraid of any danger, Urahara-dono.” Once a wandering outcast, abandoned by his own tribe, he’d found a place to belong thanks to Kaelith. He owed Kaelith everything and would risk it all to repay that kindness.
Soifon nodded firmly, sparing no words. She was once the personal guard for the Commander of the Punishment Force—and now, the personal guard of this “scoundrel.” As a bodyguard, her strength still lagged far behind the man she was supposed to protect. It was disgraceful. Even if she understood it was impossible to surpass him, that was all the more reason not to slack off. The more unattainable the goal, the harder she would push herself.
Kisuke could only sigh. Nothing he said would stop them now. Resigned, he inserted a Tenshintai into the ground. Tōsen, brimming with resolve, walked up first and planted his Zanpakutō in the device.
…
Evening fell. The once desolate field was pitted with deep scars of spiritual carnage—huge gouges rent the earth, blackened craters smoked from explosions, leaving the air thick with the aftermath of violent clashes.
From behind a large boulder, Kisuke said nothing for a long time. All four had succeeded in unlocking Bankai. In the span of a single day, each had surged to a new level. They were undeniably “Captain-class” now.
An uncanny feeling washed over him. The Eleventh Division effectively had four newly-minted Shinigami with Bankai. Add in Zaraki Kenpachi—who might not have a Bankai, but whose fighting ability rivaled most Captains anyway—and it became flat-out absurd.
…
Sure enough, it wasn’t just Kisuke who felt that way. The entire Seireitei reeled in shock. The quartet made no attempt to hide their spiritual pressure during the breakthroughs, and the fearsome waves of reiatsu rolled across the Soul Society. Once people recognized whose signatures they were, they realized all four were from the orbit of the Eleventh Division. And though Soifon wasn’t formally a member, everyone knew she hung around Kaelith.
In the 1st Division barracks, Chōjirō Sasakibe turned to Yamamoto Genryūsai, deeply worried.
“Head Captain, the Eleventh Division’s strength is becoming far too great. Four newly emerged Captain-level fighters—plus Kaelith himself, and Vice-Captain Kenpachi, who matches a Captain in combat. That’s six ‘Captain-class’ forces in one Division. That’s more power than a single Division was ever meant to hold!”
Contrary to Chōjirō’s alarm, Yamamoto remained unperturbed. Calmly, he continued writing his calligraphy. Lifting the brush on a final stroke, he spoke.
“Chōjirō, you’re missing the other side of the story.”
“Another side…?” Sasakibe repeated blankly.
Glancing over with a faintly amused look, Yamamoto turned. His weathered face wore a faint smile.
“A bunch of ordinary souls, who less than a century ago had next to no training—and now they’re each of Captain rank under that kid’s tutelage. If he can do that with merely one Division, imagine how things might look if he took over the entire Gotei 13 someday.”
Chōjirō’s face paled.
“Head Captain, you’re not implying that your body—?”
It was a natural assumption. Shinigami might live a very long time, but not forever. Typically, a thousand years was remarkable. Those of massive strength, such as Yamamoto or Unohana, could push well beyond that, but eventually even they would age. Now well past two thousand, Yamamoto was surely nearing his limit—was that what this was about?
Seeing Sasakibe’s reaction, Yamamoto chuckled.
“Calm yourself, Chōjirō. I won’t be dying anytime soon. At least not before I see Yhwach turned to dust.”
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