You Are Strong, Sir, But My Art Style Is Above Yours!

You Are Strong, Sir, But My Art Style Is Above Yours!

Author: Chef Emiya

Synopsis:

Iori Aizen: What era is this? Why are people still using traditional cheat abilities?

Have you not seen those who trained for three years and gained the strength to kill any enemy with a single punch?

Those who learned Bankai in just a few days, going from complete novice to Captain-level Soul Reaper?

Those who received instruction from renowned masters and learned Haki and Devil Fruit awakening after getting smacked a few times?

Reincarnators, rebirths, transmigrators, plot armor, invincible settings, the author's beloved son, the author's father... There were countless kinds, like carp crossing a river.

But Iori Aizen knew that ordinary cheats could no longer survive in such a fiercely competitive industry. If you were going to cheat, you had to use the biggest cheat of all!

So, what was the strongest power system that worked across the Myriad Worlds?

Love?

Hatred?

Instinct?

E=mc²?

No, it was art style!

I'm not targeting any particular person. I'm saying that no matter what cheat abilities everyone here has, the art style of Iori Aizen will always stand above yours!

Multi-Fandom: Bleach, Type-Moon

Dungeons: Persona 5, Akame ga Kill!, Overlord, The Eminence in Shadow, Uncle from Another World, Naruto, Campione!, pending~

You're Aizen? I'm Aizen Too?

"Three Gold Koban!"

"No, that's impossible!"

The tall, graceful girl's pupils contracted slightly. Her body swayed almost imperceptibly, and her smooth raven-black hair slid down her shoulders. Even as it fluttered in the breeze, it seemed to reflect the turmoil in her heart.

Yet after taking a single deep breath, she calmed down and revealed a faint smile. "Iori, I really didn't expect you to earn so much."

"My foolish onee-san~ If you want to surpass me, then envy me, hate me, and turn that into motivation to improve yourself. Try to surpass me—Yuki!"

The slightly shorter, delicate-looking boy smiled smugly at his sister, who was forcibly maintaining her composure.

The warm spring sunlight of April fell upon his fair little face. His eyes were clear, his cheeks soft, and the dashing air unique to a young man shone through his clever brows. Although he was saying something painfully chuuni, it somehow suited him so perfectly that no one could bring themselves to dislike him.

The girl's brow twitched, but her perfect smile showed no crack. "I've always thought Iori was amazing. As your sister, I'm happy for you. Why would I be jealous?"

"..." The smile on young Iori Aizen's face slowly faded.

Experience told him that whenever the person before him changed the way she addressed him from "my adorable little brother" to "Iori," it meant she was extremely unsettled inside.

Jokes were jokes, but Iori did not dare to truly anger her.

Behind that perfect smile was an existence even more terrifying than the Asura King!

Yuki was a woman with limpid autumn-water eyes and refined, beautiful features, someone so striking that people forgot the mundane world upon seeing her. Though born a commoner, she possessed the serene elegance of a noble young lady.

Judging by her appearance alone, she looked around seventeen or eighteen. Yet her tall figure and tranquil, elegant bearing made her seem exceptionally mature among her peers. Her gentle words and smile were enough to make hearts flutter.

Her only regret was her height. She was no shorter than many men. In the twenty-first century, such proportions would have made her a perfect model, but this was Japan—Japan of roughly the seventeenth or eighteenth century.

Here, petite, baby-faced girls were more popular. A type like Yuki's was certainly charming, but not considered the most ideal.

—But she did not care about any of that.

To the girl, outsiders' opinions were unimportant. Her worth was not determined by the words of ignorant fools. The regretful gazes of ten million people meant less to her than a single sentence from her bratty little brother:

Sis, you're so weak. You're just like a little minnow! Ah~ minnow~ minnow~

—That was far more infuriating!

Although Iori had not said it aloud, she believed she had read exactly that from the boy's eyes.

Hehe, it seemed her dignity as the elder sister had been looked down on~

"You must have gone to quite a few places to earn this much. You've worked hard."

The black-haired girl suddenly moved, flashing behind Iori. Her two fists pressed against either side of his head.

"I'll give you a massage. You said it could relieve fatigue and help protect your eyesight."

Ignoring Iori's surprise and resistance, the girl began earnestly massaging his head. Afraid that she was not using enough strength, she slowly increased the pressure like some kind of torture device~

Mm, not enough. She had to use more force. After all, her little brother was tough!

"Stop, it feels kind of... I was wrong, it's really starting to... Hiss! Yamete! It hurts, it hurts... Is this how eye exercises are supposed to be done? That's not what I taught you!"

Damn it, she had even used Shunpo techniques!

At her mercy, Iori felt as though drills were continuously spinning against both sides of his skull. When he tried to break free, something behind him blocked him. His skin could clearly feel a soft, springy sensation.

"—!"

Iori immediately stopped moving. Yuki paused as well, and a smile appeared on her face once more.

"You seem a little restless. Are you dissatisfied with my technique?"

"No! I wouldn't dare!" Iori gritted his teeth.

Hell above his head, heaven behind his back. What utter mercilessness!

As expected of the Unique Torture Technique that only Big Sister could perform!

"Hmm? Souyuki, Iori, what's going on?"

Perhaps Iori's earlier cries had been too loud. Their commotion drew someone's attention, and the lattice door behind them slid open. An elderly woman in a light brown kimono emerged with a cane. Her eyes were smiling slits, her hair frosty silver-white, yet she was still full of spirit.

"You two are arguing again? You're not children anymore. As siblings, you should get along lovingly."

"Uh, Granny..."

"Ahem, Granny, don't worry. I was giving him a massage."

The two quickly separated and stood obediently to one side to greet the old woman. Yuki casually came up with an excuse, her skill at lying still shallow but already taking shape.

The moment they quieted down, their atmosphere and temperament changed entirely.

The sister was eighteen and the brother fourteen. One was gentle and graceful, the other carefree and bright. Both wore light blue kimonos suited to their identities as shop assistants. Their clothes were plain, but their bearing made them seem nothing like service workers.

As the younger brother, Iori's features still retained some childishness. The two did not look alike at all, so they did not appear much like siblings.

Yuki was usually refined and courteous, steady and dependable in temperament—though only Iori knew she also had a candid side fitting her age. Thus, many younger students admired her. Overall, she had the image of a popular big sister.

Iori Aizen, however, was exactly the opposite!

For some reason, he got along only so-so with girls his own age. Quite a few female instructors at the academy, on the other hand, looked at him differently...

Unfortunately, he was neither into older sisters nor mature women. It really was troublesome~

Of course, he also liked big sisters in black stockings and uniforms. Their fully developed curves were mesmerizing, and their condescending looks from above were even harder to resist...

But if he had a choice, he would rather experience the changes "from childhood to adulthood," personally take part in the process of growth, and shoulder an indispensable responsibility.

Ahem, to clarify, he was not a pervert. He was merely a former science student with a rigorous desire to investigate!

"A massage?"

"Yes. I'm a good sister who cares for her brother. How could I possibly be jealous of my own little brother, much less take the chance to get revenge on him?"

"You clearly got upset because you lost to me—"

"Huh?!"

"Big Sister always thinks about taking care of me. I—Iori Aizen—am so moved that I'm about to cry!"

"Mm, teachable indeed~"

"Enough, enough. As long as you don't argue, that's fine." The old woman rubbed her temples, seemingly troubled by the two of them as well. "Now that you've entered the Soul Reaper Academy, focus more on your studies. Once you make something of yourselves, you can leave Soul Society and enter the Seireitei... Yet whenever you have free time, you come back to help me run the shop. Sigh... I don't want to become your burd—"

"By the way, I earned one and a half Gold Koban today by selling new belts to those noblewomen." Yuki cut off what Granny was about to say and declared confidently, "Normally, I would have taken first place in sales again."

"Hmph, three Gold Koban—come challenge me again once you've surpassed that number!" Iori curled his lips, wearing the arrogant air of the Dragon King's Return.

"...Iori, you were only lucky this time!"

The beautiful black-haired girl named Yuki smoothed the wrinkles in her clothes and quickly calmed down. "I'll still be number one in sales next time."

Her words were full of confidence, and her pure black eyes, bright as stars, carried an inexplicable force that inspired faith.

At this time, her hiddenly devious nature was not yet obvious. She was merely a girl who competed with her "little brother," outwardly refined and easygoing, but inwardly unwilling to admit defeat even in death.

Still, it had to be admitted that her confidence came from her ability. Her outstanding talent set her far apart from her peers. Whether it was height or intelligence, talking or fighting, she had never lost to anyone.

Despite her young age, she already had the makings of a Hexagonal Warrior. In a fantasy novel, she would absolutely deserve the line: "Terrifying indeed. This child must not be allowed to live."

But what a pity... she had chosen the wrong opponent!

Yuki's talent might be among the best in the Three Realms, but Iori had stepped beyond the Three Realms and was not bound by the Five Elements!

For a certain reason, as long as Iori's "art style" was powerful enough, his strength would increase unconditionally!

And in the world of Bleach, where style determined everything, Iori possessed such a powerful buff. Even against cheaters like Yhwach and Yamamoto, or Ichigo with the protagonist's halo above his head, what did he have to fear?

Iori had not yet fully matured. Aside from his looks, neither his chuuni level nor his sheer presence was high enough, so his art style could not yet be called particularly strong. But many plot characters were still in their infancy as well. A certain mixed-blood protagonist was not even in liquid form yet...

In short, everything had great potential!

Even setting combat ability aside and comparing only business methods, how could Iori, tempered by all sorts of tactics in his previous life, lose to Yuki, some "ancient person"?

You were only selling a few belts to noblewomen. I was working with some old pervert named Shunsui to secretly publish erotic novels!

Did you know how devastating twenty-first-century XP and play would be when brought to the Soul Society more than two hundred years ago?

There were so many royalties that I didn't even dare bring them home!

—Iori himself had never expected that the Japanese writing style he had developed in his previous life through playing adult games and watching anime would come in handy here... Making money was so much easier than in his last life.

That was right, Iori was a soul from another world!

When he first arrived, Iori looked at his simple short outfit and the Japanese-style wooden houses and streets in the distance, and his heart immediately skipped a beat.

This server's IP is wrong!

In his previous life, he had taken Japanese as an elective in university, then joined a non-profit fan translation group. Although they walked the edge of copyright law, they had at least been doing good deeds. He had received who knew how many comments calling him "hero" and wishing "good people become European Emperors," so how had he suddenly fallen to such a miserable state?

His parents had died early, and his so-called "family" had merely been a group of greedy goblins fixated on the compensation money, so he had not had much to miss about his past life.

But when he thought of forever saying goodbye to air conditioning, hot pot, games, and novels, he could not help sinking into deep despair.

It took him a few more days to realize that this was not an ordinary ancient era.

The Soul Society!

This was a plane within the world of the anime Bleach. As the name implied, it was the world after death, where the souls of the departed were ferried through various means.

However, the Soul Society was different from an ordinary underworld. The souls here possessed physical bodies. They could eat and drink, even marry, raise families, grow old, fall ill, and die. They looked no different from living people.

Furthermore, aside from souls with the aptitude to become Soul Reapers, who needed to eat additionally, ordinary people generally did not feel hungry even if they did not eat.

From that perspective, it was practically heaven—

My ass!

That was not how things were at all!

It was still a world where the strong preyed on the weak. Aside from the Seireitei, the center of the world, and a few relatively prosperous areas of Soul Society, the entire Soul Society was basically an oversized countryside, even a slum!

Moreover, the farther back an area ranked in Soul Society, the worse its public safety became. There were even lawless zones.

When Iori had first transmigrated here, he had landed in a mid-to-lower-ranked district of Soul Society. The security could only be called barely adequate—at least no one would rob you in broad daylight—but one could imagine how difficult it was for someone with no one to rely on, especially after becoming a child, to survive there.

He had truly gone through a difficult period of struggling to survive, and it only ended when an old woman who ran a clothing shop took him in.