As the two locked together, Yoruichi's cheeks flushed slightly.
Though her darker skin made the redness subtle, her expression clearly betrayed an intense excitement.
Then came a crisp, unsettling crack.
Crack!
Yoruichi's face stiffened as she instinctively loosened her scissor-like hold.
Just as she was about to follow up with another move, Kisaragi Akira drew a sharp breath and bared his teeth:
"Don't move!"
"Call for help! She—she broke it!"
The clash of technique-level parity had sent Yoruichi into a frenzy. One slight misstep, and her unchecked spiritual pressure and raw strength erupted uncontrollably.
The brief surge mercilessly overwhelmed Akira.
Even though he sensed the anomaly at the last second and unleashed all of his own spiritual pressure in response—
Seventeenth-level spiritual force.
For context: a standard Shinigami squad member ranks at level 20, a lieutenant at levels 4–5, and level 3 and above is reserved for captain-class fighters (original canon, "Zaiya's Roar" arc).
Akira's personal spiritual force level was lv20. On a scale of 100, this corresponded to seventeenth-level spiritual force.
Among ordinary students, that made him an elite—but against Yoruichi Shihouin, it was a gap that couldn't be measured by stars or fractions thereof.
The instant Yoruichi's spiritual force erupted, Akira felt the yawning chasm of true talent—a divine barrier he couldn't hope to cross.
As their spiritual pressures collided, it was as if towering mountains collapsed before him, torrents of mud and rock rushing down to obliterate his stubborn resistance.
Yoruichi seemed to notice her own loss of control and forced a sheepish smile as she released Akira's twisted right hand.
The arm now lay in a grotesque, contorted shape, deep purple from the sheer force of the spiritual energy and raw strength—bones and muscles battered, skin shocking to the eye.
Akira tried to move his hand, but it didn't respond.
"My right hand… you can't die on me!"
He grimaced in exaggerated pain, mostly for show, but the act only deepened Yoruichi's guilt. She didn't dare meet his eyes.
Her over-the-top style left Aizen frozen, a sudden realization dawning on him. Maybe being friends with this guy wasn't exactly a badge of honor.
Kishinobu Maeda appeared before Akira, brow furrowed, carefully examining the soft, twisted arm.
After a long moment, he exhaled in relief.
"It's not bad enough to require amputation. But the standard medical team at the Soul Arts Academy won't be able to handle this injury."
He hurriedly scribbled a detailed report on the incident and handed it over.
"Take this to the Fourth Division's medbay. Captain Unoha will treat you personally."
"Aizen, you're coming along," he added.
Aizen nodded reluctantly.
Yoruichi raised her hand as if to follow, but upon seeing Maeda's pleading gaze, she pouted and gave up the idea—for now.
Once the two left, Maeda dismissed the others. Soon, the classroom was empty save for Yoruichi and Akira.
He sighed heavily, glancing at the unrepentant dark-skinned girl.
"Yoruichi-dono… you promised me you wouldn't go overboard."
"This time, he got lucky—just a broken arm. But if you had twisted his head instead… well, that would've been a problem," Maeda said.
Yoruichi offered a quick defense. "I wasn't reckless, just… carried away by the thrill."
"At the start, his hand-to-hand technique was… mediocre. But as the fight went on…"
The girl frowned, a sudden, terrifying realization striking her.
If she had focused solely on hand-to-hand combat due to her zanpakutō, achieving remarkable results in that field—even the best officers would fall short.
But this boy… his progress during their brief encounter defied any term like "rapid improvement." It was as if he were playing with cheats.
Every technique she deployed was absorbed, perfected, and executed by him with superior finesse.
This genius… could outmatch even her own family members. Even captains couldn't compare.
As she silently contemplated this, Maeda noticed the strange tension and cautiously spoke:
"Yoruichi-dono?"
The dark-skinned girl suddenly raised her head, her eyes shining with a dangerous light.
"Maeda… what do you think…"
"Should we… adopt him into the Shihouin family?!"
Yoruichi's jump-in logic left Maeda wide-eyed. He gasped sharply, a painful twinge running through his teeth.
More than the pain, the thought itself was terrifying.
From intel about Akira performing exorcisms for female classmates, his lustful tendencies rivaled even Captain Kyoraku Harusame of the Eighth Division. He would undoubtedly agree to any such offer.
Maeda shivered, already imagining a horrifying future. The Maeda family had close ties to the Shihouin family—this was a scenario fraught with peril.
On the narrow path to the Fourth Division's barracks, the two boys walked in their Soul Arts Academy uniforms.
A peaceful, harmonious scene—if you ignored the constant wailing of one particularly embarrassing individual.
"Aizen… do you think my right hand will heal properly?" Akira groaned.
"With Captain Unoha's skill, it should be fine."
"That's good… my right hand is my dearest comrade, my brother-in-arms. It cannot fail me, even if I die!"
Aizen exhaled in resignation. Normally, a severe injury would bring pain and despair—but Akira worried only about whether his right hand could recover.
And the nickname "right hand" (Kou-yu) was… odd. Every time Akira wailed, Aizen felt strangely unsettled, as if Akira were mourning himself rather than his limb.
Even with his steadfast nerves, Aizen shivered and quickened their pace toward the Fourth Division's barracks.
Due to the immense size of Seireitei, even moving at full speed, it took nearly a full day to arrive.
Presenting Maeda's certificate at the guard station, they were not only allowed entry but also guided to a clean, orderly infirmary.
As Akira stepped inside, a familiar tone chimed in his ears:
[Sign-in conditions achieved…]