Chapter 117: The Scheming Loli is a Sports Idiot

On the kendō field at Shin’ō Academy, chaos erupted.

Thwack!

Hachiuma Chiyo flew through the air, spun 360 degrees by a female student’s bokken, and crashed hard to the ground.

“Instructor!” the student cried, panicking. “Chiyo’s not breathing! I barely used force—please check her!”

Yamabuki Haruto rushed over, inspecting Chiyo. She was out cold from a single strike. This makes no sense. Her Reiatsu rivals Sasakibe’s, yet she’s this weak?

In Bleach, stronger Reiatsu typically meant greater combat prowess—Aizen proved that. So why was Chiyo so feeble? Haruto checked her pulse. Heartbeat’s steady. He performed Kaido, his hands glowing with healing energy.

After a tense moment, Chiyo gasped, eyes fluttering open, staring at the sky in despair.

“She’s awake!” the female student sobbed, relieved. Thank the Soul King the instructor’s here.

Chiyo touched the ground, confirming she was alive. Still here? Good.

“Up you go,” Haruto said coldly. “Training’s not over.”

Chiyo groaned weakly. “Are you human? I nearly died, and you want more? I don’t know Zanjutsu! Spare me!”

Haruto scoffed. No swordsmanship? She’s released her Zanpakutō! Mastering a Zanpakutō’s name required brutal trials with its spirit. “Where there’s a will, there’s a way. Start with basics—chop.” He tossed her a bokken, pointing to a wooden dummy.

Chiyo staggered up, took a deep breath, and charged. Her bokken struck the dummy’s head, but the recoil sent it smacking her own forehead.

Bang!

She collapsed, knocked out by her own attack.

Haruto facepalmed. This clumsy? I thought anime exaggerated. Coordination was innate—Chiyo was hopeless. “Rest. You’re destined for the Kidō Corps.”

In Kidō, Chiyo excelled, casting spells up to Hadō #50 despite her childlike appearance. Most Vice-Captains peaked there, and weaker ones—like Abarai Renji—couldn’t match her control. Haruto hadn’t expected such specialization. Most Captains mastered only two or three of the Four Great Noble Skills. Yoruichi’s unmatched Shunpo skipped Kidō; Byakuya balanced Zanjutsu, Kidō, and Shunpo but neglected Hakuda. Only rarities like Yamamoto or Aizen excelled in all.

Morning training ended. Haruto let the students relax, heading to the First Division Barracks for a meeting.

All Captains and Provisional Captains gathered. Shijima Chigiri stepped forward. “I’m Shijima Chigiri, new Provisional Captain of Squad 4. Please guide me.”

He eyed his peers with a sneer: Zenjoji Arihime, bull-like and brash; Yanagi Junrei, spectacled and eerie; Kano Chiharu, ladylike but vicious with a blade; Saitō Furofushi, arrogant; Retsu Unohana, deceptively gentle; and Shihōin Chihiro, laid-back. Behind Yamamoto Genryūsai, Haruto flashed a knowing smile. Monsters, all of them. Their Reiatsu dwarfed his unless he pushed his Vollständig: Silver Angel to its limit.

Yamamoto slammed his cane. “Today’s not just for Shijima’s appointment. In two days, The Royal Guards will arrive in Seireitei. All Captains must join me to greet them.”

“The Royal Guards?” Saitō Furofushi asked, intrigued.

Yamamoto paused. He’d met Ichibei Hyōsube once, two thousand years ago, when a primordial Menos Grande breached Soul Society. Young Yamamoto fell, and the beast stormed the Soul King Palace, nearly devouring the Soul King. Ichibei’s seal saved the day.

“They’re formidable,” Yamamoto said. “Together, their power might surpass the entire Gotei 13.”

Gasps echoed. These were peerless warriors—Yamamoto’s words carried weight.

Haruto stayed silent. Yamamoto, the strongest Shinigami in a millennium, was mighty, but Ichibei, born in the Soul King’s era, transcended normal Shinigami. His Shirafude Ichimonji could rename Zanpakutō, rewriting their essence—a coder altering reality. Against Yhwach’s Almighty, though, even Ichibei faltered.

“In two days, all Captains will assemble at Seireitei’s western plaza to welcome The Royal Guards,” Yamamoto declared.