You're Strong, But My Art Style Is Above Yours!

Speaking of the six people in front of him, setting aside whether ganging up on someone weaker damaged their reputation, the fact that they had been so easily thrashed by Iori was enough to make them lose all value for cultivation in their elders' eyes.

Traditional Japanese families were ruthless. When it was time to give up, they gave up. They would rather adopt a stepson or take in a son-in-law than let trash inherit the family business!

What was more, Bleach placed particular importance on martial strength, making matters in this regard even more nakedly brutal.

"I'm being kind here. I want to help you cover up this embarrassing incident." Iori's smile was as warm as a spring breeze.

The leader hesitated. "You're willing to keep this a secret?"

"No problem. You just need to pay a small price."

"...Heh! So that's how it is."

After a brief thought, the masked man assumed he understood Iori's meaning and sneered disdainfully. "As expected of someone from Soul Society. Go on, how much do you want?"

"Money?"

Iori tilted his head. "True, I'm not someone who treats money like dirt. But the amount it would take to move me... you can't afford it."

What a joke. His "literary works" circulated throughout the Seireitei, and the royalties he received from Kyōraku Shunsui alone every month were quite substantial. If he hadn't been raising a science-crazed maniac who devoured money like a beast... Iori would have long since been living like a god!

"You don't want money?" the masked leader asked in confusion. "Then what do you want?"

"Don't be nervous. You just need to stay here obediently."

"...Huh?"

"After all, only upperclassmen get practical tests against Hollows. A second-year student like me doesn't even get the chance to use a real blade, never mind actual combat. If I want to go further, this alone is nowhere near enough."

Iori swung his wooden sword, producing a sharp swish through the air. Smiling, he said, "After all, hitting a wooden post and hitting a human body feel completely different~"

"...You bastard!"

The masked man finally understood. His eyes filled with bloodshot veins, and the veins on the forehead Iori could not see bulged fiercely.

"You're actually treating us like wooden posts!"

"You can fight back."

Iori did not care. These masked men were not particularly skilled, but as he had just said, no matter how many times he swung his sword, cutting air or striking dead objects could never compare to the feel of a living human being.

After just one battle, Iori felt his stats rise slightly again. It was even more effective than over an hour of empty swings!

"Do you really know what you're doing?!" The masked man who had been so arrogant before was now trembling even in voice. "If this gets out, what will those instructors think—ugh!"

"So you finally realized it. On the contrary, you're the ones who need to help me keep this secret. After all, it would be far too embarrassing for you."

Seeing him like this, Iori sighed. "Can you show a little courage? As Bleach, once you decided to gang up on me, you should have had the corresponding resolve."

"Gah!"

The masked man said with difficulty, "Can... can we make peace?"

Snicker!

Iori smiled.

"Please don't be afraid. I'm not some demon. I won't leave you with any wounds that are hard to heal."

Moonlight streamed in through the window, illuminating the boy's face. His smile was warm and gentle.

"After all, precisely controlling one's strength is also an important form of training. And if someone gets injured, I can practice some Kido too. I guarantee I'll make full use of every one of your bodies. There won't be the slightest bit of waste."

"Yamete! Don't come over!"

"Stand firm, grip your weapons tightly, and attack! If you're going to be targets, then do your job properly, seniors."

Iori stepped forward. "This is your 'value.'"

Smack!

Smack!

Smack!

Ding—

CG Recorded

Cruel Smile

Category: Art Style CG

Level: --

Quality: --

Rewards:

Art Style Value +2

Note: Current accumulated Art Style Value: "33"

What? This can raise my Art Style Value too?! Talk about an unexpected windfall...

Iori froze for a moment, then began fighting even more happily~

"What a terrifying brat!"

On a rooftop, a small figure wearing a Shinigami uniform haori sat on the tiles. A wine jug and a small cup rested beside her. Her flushed face watched the dojo. Although it was difficult to see clearly from this position, she seemed to know exactly what was happening.

By appearance alone, people would believe she was under twenty. Her short, slender figure, youthful face, long purple hair tied into twin tails, black eyepatch over her left eye, and delinquent-like posture and tone—

She looked exactly like a teenage troublemaker~

But anyone who saw the White Haori on her body would immediately put away any contempt. Only Captains of the Thirteen Court Guard Squads were qualified to wear it. It was a symbol of strength and achievement.

"But he suits my taste. The squad members these days are all such good little children. It's rare to see someone this interesting~

Youth really is wonderful. It reminds me of the old days~

But the old bastards are either dead or locked up, and that Yachiru is always smiling sweetly all day long. It makes me sick. Life is getting more and more boring...

Hm? The texture of that reiatsu... am I imagining it? Did this guy get a little stronger... No, no, it couldn't be that obvious."

The eyepatched girl lifted the wine bottle and shook it, deeply puzzled.

"There's still this much left... Has my alcohol tolerance gotten worse?"

Vasto Lorde Extermination Army

"Phew~"

After working up a good sweat and using up more than half his reiatsu, Iori got dressed and walked out of the dojo feeling refreshed in both body and mind. Several sprawled figures flashed past behind him.

It was already midnight. Iori looked at the moon hanging high in the sky. Just as he was about to return to the dormitory and get a good night's sleep, a voice suddenly called out to him.

"Hey, kid, want to come up and have a few drinks~?"

Following the voice, Iori saw a dim figure silhouetted against the moonlight, sitting carelessly on the rooftop opposite him. The person held something reflective in hand, seemingly a wine cup.

That close... and I didn't notice anything before?

"Hm? Didn't hear me?"

When the person received no answer from Iori, she stood up with the cup and jug in hand—

Whoosh!

Iori's shoulder sank. Immediately afterward, a body reeking of alcohol leaned against him, casually wrapping an arm around the boy's neck. With a mischievous grin, she said:

"Don't tell me you're still underage? But it's fine. This is Soul Society. Souls don't need to follow so many rules. Here, smell this. It's top-quality sake~"

As she spoke, she filled three-quarters of the cup and held it beneath Iori's nose.

So fast!

—Iori was inwardly alarmed, forcing himself not to make a move. Shunpo at such a level was already beyond his ability to handle. If they fought, he would definitely lose horribly!

Even Yuki's Shunpo was probably inferior to this person's... No, they were not even on the same level!

Only then did he clearly see her true appearance. She was a young woman wearing an eyepatch.

She looked like a girl, but judging from her words and actions... she was probably another one of Soul Society's legally recognized lolis. After all, a soul's appearance had nothing to do with its real age.

That hair color, the eyepatch, the Captain's Haori... Could she be... one of the First Generation Captains, Saitō Fuyōfushi?

Having recognized her identity, Iori was shocked, though his mind calmed down. At least he no longer had to worry about being assassinated. Given Saito's seniority and status, there was no way she could be connected to the people in the dojo.

After all, she was a veteran powerhouse from the same era as Unohana Retsu. She had once resisted the Quincy invasion a thousand years ago—strictly speaking, eight hundred years ago—and had personally seen Yhwach!

In truth, Iori did not know much about Saitō Fuyōfushi. In his previous life, he had been a Bleach fan, but not a hardcore one. He had merely watched the anime and the first half of the Thousand-Year Blood War, and was unclear about many hidden details.

Saitō had never appeared in the main anime storyline. She had only shown up for a few seconds as a character in a flashback. All Iori knew was that she was one of the First Generation Captains... and apparently a complete lunatic.

Or rather, every member of the original Thirteen Court Guard Squads had been a lunatic!

At this thought, suspicion arose in Iori's heart again.

Something was wrong! Saito should have been the first Captain of the Sixth Division, but the current Sixth Division belonged to the Kuchiki clan!

And... Iori had been here for years, yet he had never heard of any Captain with the surname Saito. She could not have simply been transferred elsewhere either.

There was something wrong with this woman!

Still, she had been a Captain for several hundred years... She probably would not just draw her sword and start cutting people down, right?

"Huh? Did you go stupid, kid? I'm talking to you~"

Saito poked Iori's cheek in displeasure. "What, do you think I'm an old woman and don't want to drink with me?

Tch~ What an uncultured brat. Don't be fooled by how I look now. I was quite something back then. The people chasing after me could line up from Byakudōmon all the way to the 80th Rukongai District!

Or... did seeing this haori scare you so much that you can't speak?"

"No, I was simply too shocked to say anything."

Iori smiled. "I don't know what I did to deserve the honor of drinking with such a beautiful woman."

"Hehe~ Sly~ Ha!"

Saito bent over laughing. "But I like it! Keep it up.

Let me tell you, even when girls know you're sweet-talking them, they might protest a little, but they'll actually still be happy to hear it~

Good kid, follow me!"

Before her laughter had ended, Saito released Iori. Without any visible movement, she returned to the rooftop in the blink of an eye. Iori could not see how she had moved at all, and his heart grew even more solemn.

Still, being able to meet such a powerful person made him somewhat excited. He did not dare delay and immediately used Shunpo to reach the rooftop as well.

Crack!

A tile beneath Iori's foot slid two inches.

Hearing the sound, Saito curled her lips. Before Iori could speak, she vanished again, appearing on another rooftop fifty meters away almost simultaneously.

"So fast... What is she trying to do? Forget it!"

Iori's gaze sharpened, reiatsu fluctuations rising beneath his feet once more. In an instant, he reached the same rooftop, only to look up and find that Saito had indeed left again.

He was stubborn too. Unable to understand what game this woman was playing, he simply stopped thinking about it. He merely followed Saito step for step, repeatedly using Shunpo. Before long, they had left the Soul Reaper Academy.

"Oh? He can really keep up. I've suppressed my speed, but this should still be around Vice-Captain level. Judging by his uniform, he should only be a lower-year student... He has limitless potential."

Saito gradually increased her speed, making it harder and harder for Iori to follow, though he could barely manage it.

Gradually, Iori's Shunpo technique gained a trace of "smoothness." Though exhausted, he felt increasingly at ease with it.

This surprised Saito even more.

It was not as if she had never seen talented people, but adaptability and improvement speed like Iori's were rare. Usually, only those who walked the line between life and death during wartime could unleash similar potential. But a Bleach who had grown up in an era of peace...

"This is bad. At this rate, my reiatsu won't hold out!"

Iori frowned slightly, sensing that his strength was failing. Yet as he watched Saito remain ahead of him, a competitive spirit rose in his heart. He drew upon his remaining reiatsu and continued using Shunpo.

But in order to conserve reiatsu, his movements became even more refined than before. He appropriately reduced expenditure and focused his mind, no longer thinking about anything else. All his attention went toward how to use reiatsu more efficiently—

At that very moment, inspiration struck the boy. He vaguely felt his body become much lighter. When he moved to a new position again, there was not the slightest sound beneath his feet. It was as though a breeze had swept past, without even making the fragile roof tiles tremble.