Bleach: The Fifth Division Captain

"Good evening. We have a reservation, a private room…"

"Thank you. Huh? Everyone's already here? Ugh…"

"I'm going to get another lecture from the old man, huh? This is going to be rough… Ah, sorry, I said too much."

"Anyway, please lead the way."

Following Kyōraku Shunsui, Seiya trailed through yet another unfamiliar place.

From the outside, it looked like a simple garden courtyard.

But upon entering, it was an entirely different world.

The interior was a labyrinth of concealed rooms and corridors, each carefully maintained by well-dressed attendants guiding guests to their destinations.

Seiya couldn't help but glance around with curiosity.

Even without knowing exactly where they were headed, the atmosphere screamed "exclusive."

This wasn't a place someone like him—a poor student—would normally step foot into.

After weaving through several corridors, they finally stopped before a sliding door.

Seiya's eyes landed on the nameplate beside the entrance.

The character written on it, in a refined calligraphic style, was "Heart."

An attendant slid open the door, bowing slightly as they gestured inside.

Kyōraku gave a casual nod of thanks, then lightly tapped Seiya's shoulder.

—Don't just stand there, kid.

Seiya took a steadying breath and followed him inside.

The room was modest yet spacious.

In the center sat a long wooden table, carved from a single piece of wood with no visible seams.

Around it were thick, comfortable cushions arranged on the tatami flooring.

There were no excessive decorations.

The room's only feature was a half-open sliding door on the right, revealing a carefully tended courtyard garden outside.

Inside the room, only three people were seated.

To the left sat a man with long white hair flowing down his back. His expression was calm, his features gentle, and his presence exuded warmth.

He held a porcelain teacup, sipping quietly as he gazed out toward the garden.

When the door opened, he turned his head, offering Kyōraku a relaxed smile.

"Ah, Shunsui. We've been waiting for you."

This man was none other than Jūshirō Ukitake, Captain of the Thirteenth Division.

Seiya found himself stealing a few extra glances.

This was his first time seeing the legendary Ukitake in person.

After exchanging pleasantries with Kyōraku, Ukitake's gaze shifted toward Seiya.

There was no hostility in his eyes—only curiosity and kindness.

"And this is…?"

Kyōraku removed his straw hat and gave Seiya an encouraging pat on the shoulder.

"Oh, this is Arima-kun. He's currently interning with my division. I mentioned him during the last meeting, remember? The promising academy student."

His tone was playful, but his words carried weight.

Both Ukitake and the others in the room turned their attention toward Seiya, their expressions thoughtful.

Sitting across from Ukitake was a well-groomed middle-aged man.

His half-gray hair and neatly trimmed beard gave him an air of quiet dignity.

Unlike most Soul Reapers, his attire was slightly more refined, making him look more like a scholar or gentleman.

There was no need to ask his name.

Seiya already knew.

This was Chōjirō Sasakibe, Vice-Captain of the First Division.

A man who had served as Yamamoto's right-hand for over a thousand years.

Despite possessing the strength of a captain, Sasakibe chose to remain in a subordinate role, faithfully assisting Yamamoto for millennia.

His unwavering loyalty was legendary—so much so that he deliberately avoided using his Bankai in public to keep his true strength hidden.

Even mockery from others never swayed his resolve.

His dedication had earned him the reputation of being "the perfect retainer."

At that moment, Sasakibe carefully set down his tea.

The cup, adorned with gold filigree and silver trim, clinked softly against the table.

His expression was calm as he addressed Kyōraku.

"This is the academy student… who managed to injure Kiganjō, correct?"

Kyōraku chuckled, ruffling Seiya's hair with a mischievous grin.

"That's right, Sasakibe-senpai. This is the one."

Wait, wait, wait!

Kyōraku, why are you selling me out like this?!

Seiya's heart pounded as he stiffened under the weight of their gazes.

He could feel it—

A presence unlike anything he had ever encountered before.

At the head of the table sat an elderly man in silence.

His very existence radiated a profound, unyielding aura.

It was hard to describe the initial impression this man left on Seiya.

His appearance was harsh and intimidating, yet… there was also an unexpected air of kindness about him.

His bald head, deeply lined face, and prominent cheekbones gave him the look of a carved statue.

On his forehead, two intersecting scars formed an X-shaped mark, only adding to his imposing presence.

His face alone told a story of both mercy and terror.

Seiya couldn't help but think of two opposing deities:

A merciful Buddha.

A wrathful King of Demons.

Both personas seemed to coexist within this one man, constantly at odds yet perfectly balanced.

There was no need to guess his identity.

This was Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto.

The founder of the Gotei 13.

The first captain of the First Division.

And the most powerful Soul Reaper in history.

His mere presence embodied the very history of the Seireitei itself.

Yamamoto sat perfectly still at the head of the table, his long white beard cascading down his chest.

Slowly, his eyes opened.

Piercing white irises, with barely a hint of black, locked onto Seiya.

His gaze was devoid of emotion—neither kind nor cruel.

It was the gaze of absolute authority.

"…!!!"

For a moment, Seiya felt his heart stop.

It wasn't fear.

It was the overwhelming awareness that he was being evaluated by something immensely dangerous.

Like a mouse standing before a venomous snake, he instinctively understood:

"I am no match for this man."

Just from that brief glance, Seiya grasped the chasm between them.

Finally, Yamamoto's lips parted, his voice deep and solemn.

"Why so nervous?"

"All it took was a single glance to leave you shaken?"

His words were neither scolding nor mocking.

Simply a statement of fact.

Yamamoto continued, his tone unwavering.

"I have no interest in teaching academy students how to give their introductions."

"Straighten up."

"You are a student of Shin'ō Academy."

"And thus, you are also… my student."

With a slight tilt of his chin, Yamamoto's gaze sharpened.

His voice echoed with weight and authority.

"State your name."

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Powerstones?

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