BLEACH: DRINKING MAKES ME STRONGER

The immense test hall felt suffocating beneath the solemn gaze of Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto. His expression was as rigid as stone, and the weight of his spiritual pressure pressed down on everyone present.

Leaning heavily on his cane and keeping his eyes nearly closed, he exuded a pressure befitting the founder of the Gotei 13. The saying went: "Those who squint their eyes are monsters." It certainly held true in this case.

As time passed, the atmosphere grew even more oppressive. Even those seated far from the center of the hall began to sweat under the sheer weight of his presence.

"Captain Yamamoto," murmured Sasakibe Chōjirō, his long-time lieutenant, "it is nearly time for the audience with the Spirit King."

Standing at the side, Aizen Sōsuke watched quietly. A glint flickered momentarily in the depths of his warm, serene eyes—but he quickly masked it with a gentle smile.

Only Shiba Kuroba, who knew the truth hidden behind that facade, caught the brief slip. He instinctively turned to glance at Aizen.

Huh?

Aizen raised an eyebrow slightly, as if surprised by the look, but responded with a courteous nod, never breaking his warm exterior.

Aizen briefly wondered about the intent behind Kuroba's look. But he was confident in his own acting—so impeccable it would fool even himself. He dismissed the notion that anyone might see through his disguise.

"That was close," Kuroba thought with a stiff smile. "Did I just draw his attention? I can't afford to be noticed… Not by Aizen."

As a reincarnated soul, Kuroba knew full well who Aizen truly was: the grand manipulator, the hidden threat behind the Gotei 13. He remembered Aizen's technique—Kyōka Suigetsu, the Zanpakutō capable of complete hypnosis through sight alone, activated the moment one saw its release.

Aizen never taught—he hypnotized, under the guise of mentorship.

Considering the immense hakuda (hand-to-hand combat) skill and the jūtake spiritual pressure he had just displayed—nearing that of a prodigy—it was certain that if Yamamoto acknowledged his potential, he would become a prime candidate for recruitment.

That also meant he'd be firmly within Aizen's crosshairs.

He needed to prepare countermeasures. Fast.

Suddenly, Captain-Commander Yamamoto spoke, his voice echoing through the hall like a blade being unsheathed.

"Shiba Kuroba has caused a disturbance in the examination hall—violating conduct by drinking during the Shinōreijutsuin's combat assessment. By all rights, he should be disqualified and exiled to Rukongai."

His words were heavy, final.

As Yamamoto turned his gaze, his half-lidded eyes suddenly snapped open—revealing sharp, cloudy pupils filled with a dangerous gleam.

"However," he continued, "in light of the Shiba clan's historic contributions to the Gotei 13, the personal recommendation of Captain Ukitake Jūshirō, and the noble endorsement of Captain Kuchiki Byakuya, a paragon of noble conduct…"

At this, Byakuya's face darkened visibly.

"…and considering that this is Shiba Kuroba's first offense, paired with his notable spiritual pressure and combat talent, I have decided that his assessment shall be deemed valid."

There was a stunned silence.

"But—" Yamamoto's voice hardened, his words laced with spiritual pressure, "—the pardon does not absolve his insubordination. Shiba Kuroba has displayed arrogance unbecoming of a Shinigami and brought dishonor to the Academy. Thus, I declare this ruling:"

"If he fails to graduate from the Shinōreijutsuin within one year, he will be permanently barred from future Gotei 13 service, exiled to Rukongai, and forbidden from ever stepping into the Seireitei again. Should he violate this, he will be executed without mercy."

The final words sent a chill through the room. A faint killing intent had crept into Yamamoto's tone, silencing even the most curious whispers.

Kuroba's lips twitched slightly, but he remained composed.

A short distance away, Byakuya Kuchiki's face was now stormy. He had only just tried to discipline the troublemaker himself, and now Yamamoto had officially cited him as a guarantor of Kuroba's assessment.

If there were a regret pill, Byakuya would have downed it immediately—along with a second dose for having allowed his sister to associate with such a person.

"This is absurd. I didn't sign up for this. It's like giving away Rukia all over again."

Yet the judgment had been passed, and no one could gainsay the Captain-Commander once he had spoken.

The murmurs in the hall grew into an uproar.

Everyone aspiring to be a Shinigami knew how grueling the process was. The typical curriculum at Shinōreijutsuin lasted six years. Only rare prodigies—those with exceptional power or noble connections—were granted early graduation assessments in two to three years.

To graduate in one?

That required true genius.

Though Kuroba's combat instincts and spiritual pressure had turned heads, his unpredictable behavior, lack of discipline, and tendency to drink made him a high-risk candidate.

A genius, perhaps. But a reckless one.

"What's wrong, Shiba Kuroba? Why don't you respond? Do you have any objection to my judgment?"

Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni's voice boomed as he stamped his zanpakutō, Ryūjin Jakka, on the floor, the impact echoing through the hall like thunder.

"In the past, Shiba Kaien of your clan had only reached the seventh-tier in spiritual pressure classification when he entered the academy," Yamamoto continued sternly. "Yet within a year, he graduated and became vice-captain of the 13th Division under Ukitake Jūshirō."

"Shiba Isshin completed his studies in just over a year and was recognized for his potential before eventually becoming the captain of the 10th Division. Your lineage is not without merit. If you truly wish to succeed, then perhaps you should consider abandoning your vices. If you can stay away from alcohol, I see a possibility for you to graduate within a year."

The crowd stirred at that.

What had sounded like an impossible standard moments ago now seemed... just barely within reach. Whispers passed among the gathered candidates. The Shiba clan, despite its fall from nobility, had once produced prodigies—this was fact.

To them, it seemed Yamamoto wasn't merely passing judgment. Perhaps he recognized rare potential in Kuroba—especially after that burst of spiritual pressure earlier—and sought to temper it with harsh discipline.

From her place nearby, Kuchiki Rukia clenched her fists. Her violet eyes burned with a mix of resentment and pride. Though she still felt rattled from the spiritual energy explosion earlier, hearing Kaien-dono's name spoken with such reverence by the Head Captain filled her with a quiet pride. She couldn't help but glance at Kuroba with renewed scrutiny.

Then, with maddening nonchalance, Kuroba rubbed his head and yawned.

"Ah... I actually think drinking helps me train better—"

Realizing his slip, he coughed. "Ahem. I mean... maybe I can aim for a year and a half?"

A stunned silence followed.

Even Kyōraku Shunsui let out a long sigh, lifting a hand to his face to hide a smirk.

This kid's got guts—or a death wish.

Yamamoto's brow twitched. His spiritual pressure surged like an erupting volcano.

"Impudent fool," Yamamoto thundered. His cane struck the floor again, creating a deep crack that spidered outward. "You dare mock academy standards? Very well. Since you seem so confident—if you fail to master Zanjutsu, Hakuda, Hōhō, and Kidō to at least a proficient level within one year, you will not only fail to graduate—I will personally see to your exile from Seireitei."

The spiritual pressure that followed caused the walls of the test hall to tremble.

Many of the assembled students broke into cold sweat. Some struggled to stay standing under the crushing force of Yamamoto's reiatsu.

They all had the same thought.

This idiot is speeding headlong into an early grave.