Infinite Anime [330-331] (Patreon)

Chapter 330: The Commander-Captain Draws His Blade

At present, Gusion’s true damage multiplier had become quite considerable. The only problem was that if he couldn’t break through an opponent’s defense, the true damage wouldn’t trigger at all.

For example, when he fought the Soul Singer earlier, his thunder attack was blocked by a barrier, which prevented his Devourer’s Ring from activating.

Same with blade-to-blade clashes: against some opponents he could injure them via penetrating blade aura; once he broke their defense, that damage would trigger the Devourer and come with all of Mazuko’s special effects.

He’d used this trick to hack to death, which worked great in the One Piece world.

But these little tricks only worked wonders against weaklings. Against fighters with extremely high overall combat ability, they weren’t much use. For instance, when attacking someone with overwhelming spiritual pressure, if the opponent specialized in defense, Gusion couldn’t break their hardness.

That’s why he had explained his Zanpakutō’s ability to the Commander-Captain beforehand—he’d learned that from Aizen. After all, he had many powers that couldn’t be explained within Bleach’s cosmology; it was better to dump them all onto the Zanpakutō. Even if it was a lie, it would be seamless.

“Boy, do you think you can injure me?”

The Commander-Captain eyed Gusion’s Shikai. “Decades have passed; your strength has grown, yes—but compared to your power, your confidence has swelled even more.”

He said they’d test Zanjutsu, Hakuda, Shunpo, and Kido, but he himself had no intention of drawing his blade—he merely assumed a hakuda opening stance.

“It was arrogant of this youngster.”

Gusion smiled, then grew solemn. In the next instant, his figure vanished.

Ting—

Metallic clangs rang out. Though he had anticipated it, Gusion still found it a bit absurd.

The instant his form reappeared, Mazuko’s edge slashed into the Commander-Captain’s countering fist. Far from cutting him, he couldn’t even leave a white mark on the man’s skin.

“Nice shunpo, just a bit too much noise.”

With a light exertion, the Commander-Captain flicked Gusion away. “And your Zanpakutō—if it truly has the ability you claim—does wield a fine power. But against opponents stronger than you, this kind of power seems a bit chicken-ribbed.”

He stepped forward, watching Gusion, who’d been flung into a wall and now braced both feet against it for leverage. “Come, let me test the exact strength of your Zanpakutō.”

Battle intent surged in Gusion’s eyes. As his bent legs pressed into the wall, he activated Cloud-Step Boots, boosting his overall attributes to 88.

In Soul Society, steadier skills like Dragon-Form Transformation were actually less convenient to use—the emergence of dragon scales was too obvious. Given he’d just returned from Hueco Mundo, it might make people talk.

But since his temporary attribute boosts were modest and he wasn’t stacking Dragon-Form, the burden of Cloud-Step Boots would be lighter. And as a passive, he could maintain this state for almost the entire fight until he ran out of stamina.

Facing the pinnacle of a pure Shinigami, Gusion knew there was no need to hold back. Even at full power, his slash wouldn’t truly wound the Commander-Captain. So he launched like a meteor, an ear-splitting sonic boom cracking across the training grounds.

Essence and spirit as one, he unleashed Mountain-Heaving in a frontal strike, overwhelming in force and will—an iron resolve to cleave all before him.

Bang—

This impact landed heavier, and to Gusion’s surprise, as the Commander-Captain’s mountain-toppling strength knocked his blade aside, he saw beads of blood spray.

Flipping midair to land, Gusion steadied his form and eyed the blood mark on the Commander-Captain’s fist, puzzled.

“So that’s it—quite a domineering power. Even my reiatsu can’t suppress the spread of the injury.”

The Commander-Captain regarded his wound, thoughtful. “Boy, don’t hold back. I’m just testing your Zanpakutō’s strength.”

He had deliberately relaxed the reiatsu at his skin a bit to let Gusion’s blade break through. Feeling that corrosion, and the fixed damage that burst each second, he was pleasantly surprised.

There are thousands upon thousands of Zanpakutō in Soul Society, with all manners of flashy abilities. The cliché ‘there are no weak abilities, only weak Shinigami’ was something Captain-Commander Yamamoto didn’t fully agree with.

Yes, Shinigami vary in strength—but abilities themselves also range from weak to strong. Some Zanpakutō are suited for combat; some are naturally disadvantaged in straight fights.

In the Commander-Captain’s view, Gusion’s Zanpakutō was very pure. The lack of a natural-element gimmick was actually good. With such pure, violent damage, it was enough to cut down those at his level, or even opponents slightly stronger.

Had there been, eight hundred years ago, a top fighter at his side with a Zanpakutō like Gusion’s, their losses in repelling Yhwach might have been reduced.

“Actually, my Zanpakutō can be pushed further. But that would be a bit disrespectful to you, Commander-Captain.”

Gusion said this chiefly because, from the Thousand-Year Blood War, he always felt the Commander-Captain was somewhat squishy.

His reiatsu was immense, but once his defense was pierced, he didn’t seem durable. Maybe he got played by Yhwach and, unwilling to slaughter former subordinates, ended up getting run through.

“Boy, that thought alone is disrespectful to the old man. Use your full strength!”

The Commander-Captain’s beard stirred. For the first time he stepped in and struck. The reinforced space of the training ground dented under the force.

Faced with such a heavy punch, Gusion reflexively drew his blade. Edge met fist, and blood spattered once more.

Gusion himself was blasted away. Even with superb force-dissipation technique, he carved a long trench in the ground and only stopped against the wall.

“Interesting. Your Shikai is quite good. Your Bankai should be even stronger, no?”

The Commander-Captain mused. He’d already half forgotten the original purpose of this evaluation; he greatly appreciated Gusion’s Zanpakutō’s power.

He now understood how Gusion had survived Hueco Mundo. With a Zanpakutō this strong, if young Gusion had focused on avoiding each of a Gillian’s attacks and could continuously inflict defense-breaking damage, he could’ve worn it down to death.

With a bit more luck, while dodging through the Forest of Menos and honing his reiatsu and combat skills, Gusion surviving wasn’t hard to imagine.

As Gusion pushed himself further, the Commander-Captain felt the damage bursting within his body triple. Even he couldn’t ignore that. If his defense were breached every exchange, time would let Gusion scrape him to death.

“What is it, boy? The old man looks fine—does that surprise you?”

The Commander-Captain flexed his fist; as the blood beads flicked off, the skin beneath had already healed, his body showing no sign of discomfort.

“You used a Kaido, Commander-Captain?”

Gusion analyzed. He’d indeed been startled for a moment. His true damage wasn’t a joke; even a fifth-tier super-expert like the Commander-Captain, once his defense was pierced, should have been noticeably hurt under the Devourer’s true damage.

But the Commander-Captain calmly observed Mazuko’s power, seemingly unbothered.

“Correct. Another weakness of your Zanpakutō is that against opponents with super regeneration, your advantage lessens.”

Yamamoto said, “But your Zanpakutō should also have some healing-suppression effect, so you needn’t worry overmuch. You do, however, need to raise your single-strike damage—have the power to end a fight.”

Gusion thought: worthy of a grizzled veteran of millennia of war—one arrow, bull’s-eye. But calling his Mazuko’s anti-heal some suppression was underselling it. It was extremely strong anti-heal.

Indeed, the pinnacle of Zanjutsu, Hakuda, Shunpo, and Kido wasn’t just a slogan. Even the relatively niche kaidō, the Commander-Captain could use.

“Thank you for the guidance, Commander-Captain. I will strive to improve.”

Gusion gripped his blade with both hands, sidestepped cautiously, watching the Commander-Captain’s every move, looking for an opening.

After those brief exchanges, he understood just how naive he’d been. Even if it came down to pure hand-to-hand mastery, the Commander-Captain exceeded Shen Wulong.

It was just that, when instructing him at Shin’ō Academy, the Commander-Captain hadn’t taken it seriously. Now, aside from reinforcing his skin with reiatsu, he wasn’t using power far beyond Gusion’s tier—yet with only his fists, he suppressed him.

A rough estimate: the Commander-Captain’s overall combat mastery sat at the pinnacle of the grandmaster tier.

Extremely speaking, there might be no one in this world more refined in the tempering of technique than the Commander-Captain.

Even those who could defeat him did not necessarily surpass him in martial artistry; they either won via sheer stats or via mechanics—not by outdoing him in the way of battle.

“So, your Bankai? Boy, let the old man see it.”

Captain-Commander Yamamoto watched Gusion with interest, not pressing the attack.

At this, Gusion was a bit embarrassed. “I haven’t learned Bankai yet.”

He knew why the Commander-Captain asked. Given Gusion’s current attribute levels, the Commander-Captain judged his reiatsu at captain-class; thus, assuming he had Bankai was only natural.

“I see. A pity, but understandable.”

Yamamoto was not surprised. In his eyes, Gusion was young—just over a hundred. Having this level of strength at this age was remarkable.

At least their earlier spar showed Gusion was stronger at hakuda than Yoruichi, currently the most skilled among the captains.

“Then let us begin—the formal evaluation.”

The Commander-Captain reached a hand toward Ryūjin Jakka, still in its scepter form—making Gusion’s pupils shrink.

“Seems you’re satisfied, Commander-Captain.”

Battle intent blazed in Gusion’s eyes. In his hand, Mazuko seemed to sense its master’s mood and let out a sword-hum.

“Don’t get cocky, boy. Grit your teeth…”

The Commander-Captain slowly drew Ryūjin Jakka. “…and try not to die.”

At the instant his words fell, to the shock of Hirako and the others, the Commander-Captain vanished. His advance wasn’t an elegant shunpo but a brutal burst of power that cracked the Onmitsukidō’s killstone flooring of the arena.

With a roar, blade met blade, flinging blinding sparks.

They clashed and separated in a blink, footwork adjusting, blades flashing anew. At such speed, to onlookers they were two converging streams of light weaving and colliding across the arena.

Every time the lights met, sparks bloomed like molten fireworks; the ground sank at each impact, and the shockwaves whipped the captains’ robes.

“To think he can fight the Commander-Captain to this degree in kenjutsu…”

Hirako spoke in surprise. His eyes were keen; he could tell the Commander-Captain wasn’t using overwhelming reiatsu to crush by presence. In drawn-blade combat, he was serious, not holding much back.

Yet under the Commander-Captain’s storm of seasoned offense, Gusion not only blocked everything, he even found opportunities to counter.

“Damn it, so he wasn’t going all out before… What an annoying guy.”

Even Yoruichi couldn’t help but grumble—she could see Gusion’s present combat level far exceeded before.

Under the Commander-Captain’s pressure, every decision Gusion made was exquisite—his concentration worlds apart from their previous light spar.

“So it really is judgment…”

Chōjirō watched the battle thoughtfully. Back when Gusion was a student at Shin’ō Academy, he’d watched from the stands and heard the Commander-Captain’s commentary.

The Commander-Captain had said Gusion’s strength didn’t lie in pure technical polish, but in his instinctive judgment during combat.

To Chōjirō, Yamamoto’s offense and defense were near perfect in battle; that level of situational judgment wasn’t innate but forged over millennia of war—instinct etched into muscle.

But how old was Gusion? For him to do this suggested he was born with that gift. Such a talent was vanishingly rare—even across Soul Society’s history, you might not find a second.

Now he understood why, upon hearing Gusion was found, the Commander-Captain rushed over, eager to test him.

If trained properly, Gusion might become a pillar of Soul Society. Even if the Three Realms faced upheaval, they would have greater confidence to respond.

Boom—

With a thunderous crash, Gusion’s figure was flung back, smashing into the wall and leaving a deep crater.

The Commander-Captain raised a hand; Chōjirō understood and hurried forward to hand him his haori.

Yamamoto pulled up his shihakushō, draped on the haori, and looked at the soot-streaked Gusion walking out of the dust. “Boy, you’re still young; you need practice.”

Using kaidō, Gusion healed his broken bones. In that last exchange, he’d been a fraction late; with nowhere to redirect, he’d been simply stat-crushed.

Chapter 331: Unohana’s Delight

Gusion was about to thank the Commander-Captain for the merciful instruction, but Yamamoto spoke first as he finished dressing.

“Since your squad number was revoked, join the First Division. I’ll teach you when I have time.”

No joy or anger showed on his face; Ryūjin Jakka resealed into a scepter once more.

“But… Commander-Captain, I was originally Fifth Division…”

Gusion wanted to object. He very much wanted to spar and learn from the Commander-Captain often—but being under that gaze would make a lot of things… inconvenient.

“Boy.”

The Commander-Captain’s expression hardened. “This isn’t a discussion. It’s an order.”

Gusion knew at once he was serious and instantly grasped his intent.

Saying he’d teach was one reason. But in Yoruichi’s report about Gusion’s return, there were things glossed over; the Commander-Captain wasn’t fully convinced.

As Captain-Commander, responsible for Seireitei’s safety, keeping Gusion at his side was both a teacher’s care and a form of supervision.

“Don’t make that face. It’s not house arrest. With your strength, you won’t be under the old man for long. Once you learn Bankai, I’ll send you out.”

Seeing Gusion’s conflicted look, he added.

“Then I’ll trouble you, Commander-Captain.”

Gusion knew he’d been shown great favor; refusing would be ungracious. This outcome was far better than Central 46 sentencing him to observation in the Maggot’s Nest.

“So this trip was a wash. Aizen will nag me when I get back.”

Hirako scratched his head, vexed. “Since the Commander-Captain has spoken, I won’t poach him. Gusion-kun, good luck.”

“Some people need the Commander-Captain’s re-education via iron fist.”

Yoruichi smiled. “Take care, Gusion.”

Gusion didn’t mind her obvious teasing. “Say that after you beat me in hakuda.”

“Gusion-kun, let’s go—back to the First Division barracks.”

Chōjirō stepped up and gently reminded him; the Commander-Captain had already headed for the exit.

“I’ll be in your care, Lieutenant Sasakibe.”

Gusion was polite. He knew the First’s sundry affairs weren’t managed by the Commander-Captain; Chōjirō handled them.

With the Commander-Captain’s word, procedures flew by. Gusion’s enlistment was processed swiftly; from today, he was a First Division officer.

And not an ordinary one—directly appointed a seated officer, currently the lowermost Fourth Seat.

On the way back, Sasakibe explained the First Division’s structure so Gusion would understand his situation.

The First rarely took missions. Frankly, it was a cushy unit. As the division that presides over the Gotei 13, its routine work was to issue Central 46 notices and convene regular meetings.

Most of that was handled by Sasakibe. The Commander-Captain showed up at meetings to inform and discuss; it had little to do with ordinary First Division foot soldiers.

So what did First Division personnel do day to day?

Nothing…

In real-world terms, the First was like a central agency’s gilded training program. The division had few members, all elite talents with potential. After enough time in the First, they would be assigned to other divisions according to their ability.

Depending on circumstances, at worst they’d go over as a seated officer; better ones as a Lieutenant; the exceptionally outstanding, if a captain’s seat was vacant, might directly become a division captain.

According to Sasakibe, Kyoraku Shunsui of the Eighth and Ukitake Jūshirō of the Thirteenth both spent time in the First after graduating, then were dispatched to their divisions, quickly becoming captains.

Thus, within the Gotei 13, most rank-and-file longed to enter the First, which meant a bright future and fast promotion.

Sasakibe also showed clear appreciation for Gusion, telling him that the current three seated officers in the First were old hands who had followed Yamamoto for two thousand years.

Those seats hadn’t changed in a millennium, nor did they plan to leave; they wished only to remain with the Commander-Captain.

But later-seated officers usually didn’t stay long before being sent to other divisions as Lieutenants or higher.

The message was clear: don’t fret; training here is a good thing. Learn Bankai, and you might directly ascend to captain.

Understanding the First’s situation, Gusion relaxed. It was a fine posting.

First, First Division officers didn’t take missions; he could train as he pleased without interruption, and the Commander-Captain would teach him when free.

And in off time, the First wouldn’t restrict his movements. With no missions, as long as he didn’t leave Seireitei or visit classified sites, he could wander.

As a normal person, wanting to see old classmates was natural. Visiting Aizen in the Fifth would arouse no suspicion.

…

Word of Gusion’s return to Soul Society spread the next day, sweeping Seireitei.

Among most captains it caused little ripple. Over the decades, captain seats had changed hands several times; not many remembered Gusion.

But among the End Space Explorers in Seireitei, it raised eyebrows. They’d never heard of a noteworthy Shinigami named Gusion in the original plot.

After digging up his deeds, they cried foul and suspected End Space’s unfairness, claiming Gusion had received a more finely tuned start than they had.

Look, the Commander-Captain personally brought him back. At this rate, won’t he soar to the heavens?

They were green with envy but didn’t suspect Gusion had been here before; in their understanding, this was the first public opening of the Bleach world in a new cycle.

Beyond stirring the Explorers, the news also churned the heart of a certain captain—not on the surface, but like a hidden current.

…

Fourth Division barracks. Morning sunlight rose, filling the courtyard.

Sunbeams filtered through the gaps in a cherry tree, dappling the woman beneath, adding floral patterns to her plain white haori.

As if freshly bathed, her damp hair was coiled up, simple yet alluring. A few loose strands brushed her cheek, adding unintentional charm.

Skin white as snow glowed faintly in the light, delicate and soft.

She leaned slightly, picked up a fallen petal, and touched it with her fingertips. Every motion was gentle and elegant, an air of classical grace in her bearing.

Eyes deep as a lake shimmered, reflecting dew on the petal. Her lips, pale cherry, parted with a soft voice: “Isane, how long will you keep staring?”

Startled out of admiring her captain’s beauty, Kotetsu Isane remembered she was here to report—gawking at her freshly bathed captain was quite improper.

“Captain Unohana, the Commander-Captain updated the First Division roster this morning. A new seated officer was added and will be introduced at the meeting in three days.”

As Lieutenant of the Fourth, Isane reported the standard procedure for significant personnel changes in the Gotei 13.

Generally, seated appointments within ordinary divisions didn’t require the Commander-Captain or Central 46’s approval; captains could appoint and remove at will. Only Lieutenant candidates were reported upward for approval and then announced at a Gotei meeting.

But the First was special. Seated officers under the Commander-Captain carried weight, roughly on par with other divisions’ Lieutenants. So changes were also announced and introduced at meetings.

Those in the know understood: newly added First Division seats usually wouldn’t take many years before being sent out as Lieutenant or even captain. It did no harm for everyone to get acquainted early.

If it were merely that, it wouldn’t warrant an early-morning visit to Unohana’s residence. But Isane felt this time her captain would be interested.

“Oh? Isane, did Shin’ō Academy produce a new talent worthy of the Commander-Captain’s teaching?”

Unohana’s voice was calm as she stood under the tree in the sun, weaving her long hair into its usual braid.

In the light and her slight forward lean, Isane could see a cross-shaped scar at her captain’s open chest—not left by one person, but carved at different times by different hands.

Unohana braided her hair in that odd style to hide scars that might show.

What puzzled Isane was why her captain didn’t simply erase those scars. With her kaidō mastery, it would be trivial.

“No. The Academy has some excellent graduates lately, but none to catch the Commander-Captain’s eye.”

For some reason, Unohana hadn’t lectured at Shin’ō in decades. The current healing classes were taught mainly by Fourth Division seated officers; at most Isane herself would go instruct.

“That’s rare. The Commander-Captain wouldn’t poach someone from another division to seat them in the First, would he?”

Unohana’s curiosity lifted. She understood what the First was—poaching from other divisions wasn’t his way. The First was an exporter of talent; even those absorbed would eventually be sent out.

“Strictly speaking, the Commander-Captain did poach someone… and calling him a recent graduate isn’t entirely wrong either…”

Isane’s expression turned odd. “Captain, you should remember him—the graduate named Gusion.”

Unohana’s hand paused; a few strands snapped from too much force and drifted down among the cherry blossoms.

“Who did you say?”

She turned abruptly; the gentle air around her shifted so sharply that Isane felt unsettled.

Carefully, Isane said, “Gusion. He returned alive from Hueco Mundo. He seems to have gotten quite strong. Since he’d already been removed from the Fifth, the Commander-Captain pulled him into the First.”

Unohana’s composure was superb; she calmed in an instant. Her fair hand slid over damp blue-black hair; a smile rose—gentle at first glance. “An interesting man has returned. I wonder if he’s improved.”

Though she said it lightly, her anticipation spiked.

For Gusion to cut his way out of Hueco Mundo alive already proved his strength.

Better yet, after so many years of bloody struggle, he wouldn’t be that fresh graduate lacking kill-honed experience.

Well then, Gusion—have you grown into a man who can please me?

At that thought, her mood brightened like the clear sky.

“Captain, you’re not thinking of seeking him out for a spar, are you?”

Isane chose her words carefully. She knew her captain’s nature and strength. Seventy years ago, she’d noticed Captain Unohana’s keen interest in Gusion.

She hadn’t thought much of it then. Gusion seemed not very strong, posing no threat to Unohana.

Now… it was less certain. Word around Seireitei said Gusion had fought his way out of Hueco Mundo and even slain an Adjuchas-class Menos, perhaps already at captain level.

If someone like Captain Unohana sparred with him, Gusion might really end up dead.

Oh, she had zero worry for her captain—she believed Unohana was the strongest.

“Isane, what are you saying? Why would I look for him to spar?”

Unohana smiled, reassuring Isane somewhat.

Spar?

What she sought was not a schoolyard diversion, but real, blood-soaked combat to the death. That was impossible within the Gotei 13.

To repay the Commander-Captain’s favor, she had decided to restrain herself.

The Gotei was about to assault the Human World to exterminate the Quincy who refused to heed warnings. At such a sensitive time, she wouldn’t make trouble—she would do her duty as medical personnel.

Most importantly, Gusion was still too young. As a fruit, still green; not yet ripe for the picking and tasting.