Come at Me, Fellow Monster

"Hello, Captain-Commander Yamamoto, I am Michizo Dōsan Hanyū, a third-year student of the Shin'ō Academy of Spiritual Arts."

Although Kūkaku Shiba herself didn't care much about these things, she was very strict about etiquette when it came to her younger brother, Dōsan.

Dōsan's understanding of Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto was limited to him being the strongest Soul Reaper in Soul Society for a thousand years.

However, when this person is mentioned, even the unreliable Aunt Rangiku will sit cross-legged and show a look of reverence.

"Raise your head, Dōsan Hanyū."

The voice was as heavy as a mountain. Dōsan raised his head and saw a bald head with a cross-shaped scar on his forehead. His eyes were as cloudy as those of an old man in his twilight years, yet deep and profound.

He had a long, waist-length, gray beard that was tied up, and his hands were resting on a wooden cane.

A nameless fear rose in Dōsan's heart, and the No Cause on Dōsan waist was trembling slightly.

Dōsan subconsciously pressed down on No Cause's blade.

Ironically, we feel fear when we're safe.

In dangerous situations, he always reaches for his knife first.

Yamamoto lowered his head slightly, and with a gentle twist of his hand on the wooden cane, the pressure receded like a receding tide.

It was only then that Dōsan realized that his back was soaked with sweat.

Dōsan didn't know.

Even Yamamoto, who had seen countless people—no, he should say witnessed the history of Soul Society —was somewhat astonished by Dōsan Hanyū's performance.

As a living fossil and the strongest in Soul Society, his Spiritual Pressure is as vast as the sea, even exceeding the limitations of his spirit body. Therefore, Yamamoto generally cannot, and is unable to, completely suppress his Spiritual Pressure.

The Spiritual Pressure of the rogue Soul Reaper, is qualitatively different from that of Yamamoto. In their eyes Yamamoto's Spiritual Pressure is no different from the Reishi floating in the Soul Society.

Even though the pressure was gone, Dōsan was still somewhat restless.

Yamamoto's eyes swept over Dōsan, and the more he looked, the more he liked him. He had information on Second Division and Twelfth Divisions.

Compared to talent, Yamamoto prefers his sincerity—a heart that remains true to its original aspirations despite hardships.

Furthermore, there was a faint, "delicious" scent emanating from him.

"Want to learn swordsmanship?" Yamamoto asked casually.

"I don't want to," Dōsan said casually.

The moment the words left his mouth, Dōsan wanted to slap himself.

That's incredibly suicidal.

Having suffered No Cause these past few days, Dōsan was now under immense pressure from Captain-Commander Yamamoto, and in his moment of relaxation, he spoke without thinking.

Yamamoto didn't react much, but Chōjirō Sasakibe's face was inexplicably contorted.

His relationship with Captain-Commander Yamamoto had been tested by time. Now that he knew Captain-Commander Yamamoto's personality and current feelings, he didn't need to scold Dōsan like a straight man.

However, the Captain-Commander first gave instructions, followed by Dōsan's refusal. Such an interesting scene was something I hadn't seen before.

Last time, Kenpachi Zaraki like Dōsan, said he didn't want to learn, but ended up getting beaten up.

So, how will Captain-Commander Yamamoto react to the more obedient Dōsan?

At Chōjirō Sasakibe's age, there are very few things that can interest him anymore.

"I'm so sorry, Captain-Commander, but I've been..." Dōsan tried to explain, and of course, he did have his reasons for refusing.

"Fear, is that it?" Captain-Commander Yamamoto asked calmly, leaning on his wooden cane.

"Ha?"

To be able to state the reason without even needing an explanation—truly befitting of the Captain-Commander!

Dōsan nodded slightly, his brow furrowing as if recalling a previous feeling, "Recently, when I hold a knife, I feel..."

"Emptiness and murderous intent?"

"Yes." Dōsan nodded, blinking twice. "But, when..."

"When you encounter danger, you will subconsciously choose to rely on your knife, which will make you feel even more empty, so empty that you will always want to cut something."

Amazing!

Dōsan Hanyū had never admired such a person before. Although the Captain-Commander was not particularly handsome, he was able to completely read his mind.

"I heard you're thinking of joining the Tenth Division in a year. Would you like to reconsider?"

Only a fool wouldn't understand the meaning behind Captain-Commander Yamamoto.

Only...

At this moment, Dōsan swept away all his previous worries and fears. He could not let down Isshin and Aunt Rangiku's trust and kindness.

"I'm terribly sorry, Captain-Commander, but I simply don't want to change my mind."

Yamamoto remained silent this time. He was wondering if entrusting such a young boy to Isshin would really cause any problems.

Imagine, decades later, Dōsan Hanyū wearing a Captain's Haori, standing at the end of the captain's seat with Isshin Shiba, both of them face to face, head tilted as they fall asleep.

It's a headache even for someone like Yamamoto.

With a "snap," a figure pushed open the door and entered.

"Hey, Old Man Yamamoto, where's my opponent?!"

The man standing at the doorway made no attempt to conceal his Spiritual Pressure; it was like a burning volcano, ready to erupt at any moment.

Without Captain-Commander Yamamoto saying anything, the man's gaze immediately locked onto the target.

Dōsan's gaze also fell upon the man.

"A hedgehog-like hairstyle, a long face with vertical scars, and even though he's just standing there doing nothing, he gives off the feeling of a wild beast hunting its prey."

The above is a description of the Jinmao Retriever's front deskmate, Rizukihime Kasumiōji.

Kenpachi Zaraki also noticed Dōsan Hanyū. His eyes darted around, and he stared at Dōsan Hanyū like a wild beast eyeing its prey. "Kid, I've been running around all afternoon just to see you. You should let me have my fun, right?"

When Kenpachi Zaraki looked over, Dōsan lowered his head.

I saw that I had been running around all afternoon.

Is there any connection?

Yamamoto didn't reply. He glanced at Dōsan, who was bowing his head and seemed terrified, and without asking their opinions, said, "Follow me."

Dōsan followed behind the group, his head down the whole time.

He was terrified, extremely terrified.

What terrified him was why he felt no fear at a time like this.

Every ounce of his Spiritual Pressure, every single thought, was like boiling water, churning restlessly.

"Here."

A spacious training ground.

Kenpachi Zaraki's brow twitched; this was where he learned swordsmanship.

Dōsan Hanyū kept his head down, making his expression impossible to read, and silently walked to the center of the battlefield.

Yachiru jumped off Zaraki's shoulder and quietly squatted to the side, blinking her big eyes as she watched the scene. She didn't say anything extra, like a little girl waiting to eat persimmons after a meal.

Of the few people present, perhaps only one was unaware of the situation.

Chōjirō Sasakibe, could sense the inexplicable aura rising from the two players on the field.

But Chōjirō was very curious: if the purpose was simply to train Dōsan Hanyū, why choose the beast Kenpachi Zaraki?

Furthermore, Kenpachi Zaraki is being so formal, why doesn't he release his Spiritual Pressure?

"Ha, ha, ha ha ha." Kenpachi Zaraki's smile widened, his face contorted by his eerie and arrogant laughter.

"Feel it carefully, Chōjirō."

What do I feel...?

Hearing the Captain-Commander's words after a long time, Chōjirō Sasakibe, the well-behaved student who was called on by the teacher but couldn't answer the question, felt inexplicably nervous.

Feeling, feeling what?

"This is pure killing intent."

Pure killing intent...

Chōjirō Sasakibe looked again and saw the true nature of this space; his forehead was covered in sweat.

This training ground was now densely filled with red and colorless killing intent.

This boy.

This gentle boy, who might even quietly apologize to his deskmate, possessed a murderous aura no less intense Zaraki's.

How many people did he kill?!

Ten thousand, one hundred thousand?

Especially now, the Soul Society is nothing like it was a thousand years ago. Such a large-scale disappearance of souls could not possibly go unnoticed by the Seireitei!

As if dried by sweat, Chōjirō's old body felt a little cold. He finally understood why that guy, Retsu, valued Dōsan Hanyū so much that day.

Now I finally understand why the Captain-Commander was giving him the sidelong glance.

Why is it that Zaraki, who is only interested in the strong, is so formal with the still weak Dōsan Hanyū?

Because...

Chōjirō Sasakibe looked at Kenpachi Zaraki had stopped laughing.

"Come at me, you kin."

Dōsan was terrified, so terrified he wanted to curse.

Why can't I feel fear?

Isn't that just like a monster?

Dōsan Hanyū raised his head.

Kenpachi Zaraki saw a pair of pitch-black eyes.