Bleach: The Strongest Shinigami

The scorching wind raged, annihilating everything in its path!

The earth trembled as countless dust particles surged and swirled within the howling gale, spreading outward beneath the intense flames!

As the dust settled, a twisted, charred figure emerged before everyone's eyes. Its presence was feeble, with massive chunks of flesh missing from its chest — even its internal organs had been reduced to ash.

The fusion of four-fold Hadō, unleashed through the Sōkotsu technique, had pushed its destructive power to the absolute limit. Not even Shunsui, let alone Tokinada, would dare face it head-on.

If Genryūsai could instantly destroy an Arrancar's body, then Akira's technique could at least shatter a newly evolved Vasto Lorde.

As for the Arrancar... That's a story for another time.

Make no mistake — Tokinada was far from weak. An ordinary Shinigami Captain stood no chance against him. With Enrakyōten, he could battle multiple opponents simultaneously, as he'd proven against Shunsui and Jūshirō.

Under the Inverted World's suppression, those two couldn't fight properly. Only Akira, running on pure instinct, had completely negated its effects.

Given that Enrakyōten could wield multiple Zanpakutō Shikai releases at once, any other opponent would have fallen — perhaps even two or three of them.

In the end, Tokinada was simply overwhelmed by raw power. For all his scheming and hatred of the world, he remained fundamentally ordinary.

And how could an ordinary person hope to match someone so extraordinary?

One was AM, one was FM — operating on entirely different frequencies.

{T/N: There is some radio jokes for everyone. Go learn some knowledge and search it.}

As the Reiatsu faded, Enrakyōten's influence vanished, leaving only dying sparks scattered across the sky.

Silence fell over the ruins. Countless awestruck eyes fixed upon the figure standing at the battlefield's center, burning his image into their memories.

This battle would be remembered for ages!

Though the nobles might not grasp Tokinada's true strength, they certainly understood Akira's power now. By his hand alone, the Tsunayashiro family — first among the Five Great Noble Houses — had fallen.

Shunsui's expression was complex.

Not merely because he'd contributed so little, but because he saw in Akira the shadow of that legendary figure from centuries past. In both fighting stance and methodology, he mirrored the noble Sword Demon Shigekuni Yamamoto perfectly.

Completely uninhibited!

{T/N: I just learned that the old man's name is Shigekuni Yamamoto, and Genryūsai is the title he earned. But since we're already used to it, I won't change anything (It's like calling Zaraki just Kenpachi). Also, Yama-jii=Old Man Yama.}

Collecting their thoughts, Shunsui and Jūshirō walked to the center of the ruins, approaching their younger brother. They discovered that Tokinada still clung to a breath of life.

⤫ Genshiki-ryū: Shine ⥤ Origin Style: Die! ⤬

Before they could speak, Akira — without even glancing back — threw another punch, snuffing out Tokinada's final spark of life.

The young man stood tall amid the ruins, head held high, radiating an imposing presence.

"Heh, Ryūjin Jakka? Not that impressive!"

Shunsui and Jūshirō: "..."

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News of this incident spread rapidly throughout Seireitei and Soul Society.

Akira's name became legendary among the nobles.

While the nobles had previously dismissed Ansai Tsunayashiro's death, witnessing Tokinada's defeat firsthand left them deeply shaken. His fierce combat style had struck fear into their hearts.

Some nobles went so far as to proclaim they would worship the One-Eyed God!

Others hastily declared their loyalty, swearing to remain law-abiding citizens who would never side with rebels.

The nobles weren't fools — they had to be clever to maintain their status. They understood perfectly: Tokinada's alleged crimes were merely a pretext.

The true reason for the Gotei 13's action was the return of the Sword Demon from centuries past. The fact that all three combatants were disciples of the Genryū Style spoke volumes.

Genryūsai had finally lost patience with the nobles. He seized the opportunity of Central 46's absence to make his point clear.

See? This is what happens when you oppose me!

In the aftermath, the Tsunayashiro retained their position among the Five Great Noble Houses to maintain legal stability. However, their remaining members were now harmless, lacking any real ambition.

This outcome pleased both the other nobles and the Gotei 13.

For his crimes of massacring Central 46 and causing unrest in Soul Society, Kōga Kuchiki received a 10,000-year sentence in Mugen's 8th Level.

The sentence came from the 1st Division, with Genryūsai adding his own personal touch to the ruling.

Both Kōga and Muramasa accepted this fate contentedly. A 10,000-year sentence beat execution — they could while away the time together.

The previous prisoner in Mugen had been 11th Division's Captain, Sōya Azashiro. Despite committing no crime, he'd been sentenced to over 20,000 years.

Compared to that, Kōga considered himself fortunate.

⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬

1st Division Training Grounds.

"Teacher, why did you summon me?"

Looking at the shirtless old man, whose mere presence radiated overwhelming power, Akira's face instantly broke into a fawning smile.

"I haven't caused any trouble lately. I've been helping you eliminate nobles and suppress rebels — even if I don't deserve merit, I at least deserve credit for my efforts. You can't just dispose of me now that the job is done, like a hunter killing his dog after the hunt or storing away the bow once the birds are gone..."

Genryūsai let out a contemptuous snort. As he raised his hand, his muscles suddenly bulged, releasing waves of scorching heat across the training ground.

The temperature made one break out in a cold sweat.

"I've heard some rumors." As he spoke, the heat continued to rise, crimson Reiatsu swirling around his muscular frame, "What do you think of my Zanpakutō?"

Akira was stunned, immediately giving a thumbs up, "Powerful! Dominating! Strong!"

Genryūsai frowned, "That seems different from the rumors I heard."

Hearing this, cold sweat immediately ran down Akira's forehead, "Teacher, let me explain..."

But the old man was already advancing, his wild Reiatsu surging freely. Waves of heat rolled across the training ground like an active volcano moving forward.

"Too late!"

Before the youth could cry for help, the muscular old man erupted with powerful Reiatsu, raising his iron-like fist as he charged forward.

The nightmare began.

⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬

Who am I? Where am I? What the hell am I doing?

An hour later, Akira lay sprawled in the ruins of the training ground, weakly raising his hand to use Kaidō healing on his numbed body.

The old man's control over the force he used to discipline his disciples had certainly improved.

Though the beating left no visible serious injuries, it had completely drained Akira's Reiryoku and strength, leaving him as helpless as a dried salted fish.

He had thought himself quite skilled — after all, he had beaten Tokinada, from Shunsui and Jūshirō's generation, to death with his wild punches.

But that confidence, gained mere days ago, was thoroughly crushed by Genryūsai.

It was a massacre — one without any suspense!

The gap between them was immeasurable. And what cannot be measured often proves most terrifying.

In the end, your master remains your master.

While Akira lay questioning his life choices, the old man was deep in thought.

Shunsui had reported that during the battle at the Tsunayashiro Mansion, he and Jūshirō had contributed little — Akira alone had beaten the enemy to death. This surprised Genryūsai.

After this combat assessment, he confirmed that the kid's fighting power had indeed grown significantly.

Despite his recent beating, the boy's strength was increasing at an alarming rate. At this pace, he might reach Genryūsai's level in less than a few hundred years.

Considering this, Genryūsai looked at Akira and suggested, "Kid, interested in a promotion?"

Akira: "?"

⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬

As it turned out, the old ginger was indeed spicier.

Akira realized Genryūsai had tricked him once again.

The old man's so-called promotion merely elevated him from 3rd Seat to Captain of the 11th Division.

Though his position had changed, it meant little in practice. His role as 3rd Seat had already been essentially the same as being Captain.

Only Gosuke, upon hearing this news, burst into tears of joy, snot running down his face as he proclaimed his suffering had finally ended. He had been waiting for this day for so long.

With his thin arms and legs, he had never been suited for the 11th Division. If it weren't for the lack of a Captain, he would have requested a transfer ages ago.

⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫

11th Division, Captain Office.

"Transfer?" Akira's eyes widened, "I don't agree!"

"Captain — no, Lord Magistrate — please let me go!" Gosuke clung to his leg, wailing heart-wrenchingly and completely abandoning his dignity, "I've suffered enough these years. If I stay here any longer, I fear I won't have many years left to live."

Actually, he had joined the 11th Division solely because of Kuruyashiki.

Gosuke, who came from Rukongai, lacked combat skills. If Kuruyashiki hadn't entrusted him to Sōya's care before dying, he would never have become the Lieutenant of the 11th Division with his mediocre abilities.

During his time here, he had lived in constant fear, worried about being attacked by disgruntled division members or Seated Officers during his nightly walks.

Now that freedom was finally within reach, he had to seize this chance to transfer.

Seeing that Gosuke was about to wipe his snot on his pants, Akira quickly kicked his leg to shake him off.

"Alright, alright, I agree! Draft your own transfer papers, go wherever you want."

Gosuke left in high spirits.

Then it was Akira's turn to worry.

Although the 11th Division, being combat-focused, had minimal paperwork, it wasn't nonexistent. As Captain, he still had plenty of official business to handle. Just thinking about it made his scalp tingle.

"I must find a suitable candidate to serve as Lieutenant and share the burden with your Captain!"

Akira made up his mind and immediately left the 11th Division.

⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬

12th Division.

A figure darted between buildings, heading straight for the private laboratory.

"Sōsuke, help me, quick!"

The laboratory door burst open as Akira rushed in, his pleading voice echoing through the empty room.

Aizen's right hand trembled, nearly ruining his experiment.

He let out a weary sigh and asked irritably, "What is it now?"

"Yama-jii is trying to end me — he forced the position of 11th Division Captain on my head." Akira blurted out, "Now Gosuke is transferring, and I need a Lieutenant."

"Come be my Lieutenant! With our brains and strength combined, we'll make the 11th Division bigger and stronger. Then when I beat Yamamoto and become Captain-Commander, I'll make you—"

Before he could finish, Aizen grabbed him by the collar, dragged him to the doorway, and—

Kicked him out.

You can't get ivory from a dog's mouth. The idea of making an administrative officer serve as Lieutenant of the 11th Division — it was remarkable his brain had even conceived it.

After this polite refusal, Akira squatted outside, lost in thought, until finally a suitable candidate emerged from the depths of his memory.

⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬

2nd Division, Administrative Office.

With Yoruichi attending a nobility meeting, division affairs were temporarily in Marenoshin's hands.

"Kisuke Urahara?" The big guy contemplated, "It's possible, but he's incredibly lazy — could he really handle being Lieutenant? Besides, in the 11th Division, someone without enough strength would run into serious trouble."

Concerned for his division member's wellbeing, Marenoshin couldn't be careless. The last thing he wanted was to send someone over only to have them immediately transferred to the 4th Division.

That would make him, as the 2nd Division Lieutenant, look incompetent.

"Don't worry about that." Akira patted his chest confidently, "Kisuke's plenty strong — he's just too lazy to show his true abilities. If you don't believe me, we can put it to the test."

"Test it how?" Marenoshin's expression turned puzzled.

Akira grinned, "Through combat, of course!"

⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫

2nd Division Training Grounds.

Across the grounds stood Akira, cracking his knuckles with loud pops and radiating a fierce fighting spirit.

The sight made Kisuke want to cry.

He had been peacefully lying in the barracks after finishing his work when this unreasonable fellow had dragged him off his tatami mat straight to the training ground.

And now the man wanted to beat him up.

From the sidelines, Marenoshin called out, "Kisuke Urahara, this is a good opportunity! If your performance is satisfactory, there will be a reward."

At the word "reward", Kisuke's heart clenched as unpleasant memories surfaced.

"May I ask what the reward is?"

"Win and you'll find out." Akira yanked the scabbard from his waist and casually tossed it — the weapon embedded itself in the wall, sending chunks of debris flying.

Kisuke's eye twitched at this display of power, and the ominous feeling in his gut grew stronger...

⤫⤬⤫

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