BLEACH: DRINKING MAKES ME STRONGER

The vast plaza of Shinō Academy suddenly fell into dead silence.

Several male students—driven more by pride than logic—stared daggers at Shiba Kuroba, their reiatsu flickering with agitation.

"Shiba Kuroba, I challenge you to a duel!" shouted one of them, his delicate, almost androgynous features twisted with indignation. "How dare you insult Lady Akagao? She offered you a kind greeting despite your fallen noble status, and you responded with rudeness!"

Kuroba lazily turned his head. The boy's uniform bore the crest of a minor noble house and a student achievement badge denoting Seventh-level reiatsu—average, perhaps promising.

"Hm... Seventh level?" Kuroba mused, raising an eyebrow. "A fledgling talent, maybe. But just one of you? That's not even worth stretching for. Go gather another seventy or eighty lapdogs, then try again."

He spoke with the indifference of someone far beyond their level, dismissing the self-styled "white knight" as just another fly buzzing around.

To Kuroba, Boa Akagao was no mystery—merely another well-spoken socialite who thrived on attention. Wherever she went, eager sycophants followed. And now, she had deliberately waited for him, orchestrating this scene to provoke a response and pin him in the spotlight.

Moreover, during the Shiba clan's decline, not once had Ganju ever mentioned a subordinate noble family named Boa. Kuroba found it suspicious that one would surface only now.

He narrowed his eyes. Clearly, she was a calculated player—attempting to present herself as an asset at just the right moment.

"Shiba-kun, you misunderstand," Boa Akagao replied smoothly, her voice honeyed. As expected of a social butterfly, she recovered quickly.

"Our Boa family deeply respects the Shiba clan. If you could restore its former glory, I wouldn't mind becoming a retainer—your sword-bearing maid, so to speak."

She smiled gently, then added, "But I'm only at Six tier spiritual pressure, without a proper Zanpakutō. I'm not qualified yet to stand at your side. Still, I ask that you look after me during the Hazama assessment."

Kuroba's expression remained unreadable, but inwardly, he smirked.

So that's it. She's leveraging this crowd of admirers to pressure him—disguising ambition with flirtation—and now asking for help in the Inner World Assessment, using honeyed words and strategic vulnerability.

Naturally, it was all because of the strength he displayed three days ago, during the explosive clash of reiatsu that rattled the academy.

Looking at the girl smiling like a fox spirit wearing a school uniform, Kuroba couldn't help himself—he reached out and playfully ruffled Boa's hair.

"Alright, alright. You're such a good girl," he teased. "I'll help you. Someday, I might need someone like you to deal with all the petty annoyances."

Then, casting a glance at the crowd behind her, he added, "I see quite a few cats and dogs in your entourage. The Hazama test requires thirty people. Feel free to bring them too."

The casual condescension stunned the surrounding crowd—every so-called admirer froze mid-breath.

Boa Akagao, too, faltered. His tone, his words—they treated her like a subordinate pet. That phrase—"at my feet"—stung far worse than if he had openly insulted her.

"Keep calm... stay calm..." Boa inhaled deeply to steady herself. With forced elegance, she retrieved a lacquered wine gourd from her sleeve.

"Shiba-kun, I heard you're fond of drinking," she said with a tight smile. "This is a rare vintage—one of the last bottles from my family's cellars. Consider it a token of goodwill."

Kuroba's eyes gleamed as he accepted it without hesitation. The wine was old—judging by the patina, at least two centuries—and likely valuable.

"You really are the best of the Boa clan," he chuckled. "With those honest brows and sincere eyes, we're practically kindred spirits. Later, bring your little fan club—we'll enter the Inner World together. I'll help you pick a proper Zanpakutō."

As he spoke, he tucked the gourd into his robes like a miser protecting treasure.

With the ability granted by the Hand of the God of Wine, Kuroba could instantly detect whether the wine was poisoned. And right now, his inner world lacked one critical element: alcohol. So any offering was welcome.

"Thick brows and honest eyes…?" Boa Akagao's facial muscles twitched.

Either Kuroba was from another planet or he simply didn't understand women—or elegance, or tact. She silently questioned whether he was a clueless brute… or just entirely unfiltered.

Still, watching Kuroba hoard the wine with childlike greed, she swallowed her pride.

"For the plan…" she reminded herself silently.

With an awkward, stretched smile, she added, "Thank you very much, Shiba-kun. My companions are all talented freshmen. With your guidance, we'll surely achieve twice the result with half the effort."

"Mhm. Time to go. The instructors are waiting." Kuroba gave her a lazy wave and strode confidently to the center of the plaza.

If he couldn't remain low-profile, he might as well double down and draw every eye.

As he passed, leaving a trail of stunned students and stiffened egos, Boa Akagao stood still, her chest heaving with pent-up fury.

It felt exactly like Kuroba had walked across a bridge... then yanked the planks out behind him.

Especially that line about the teachers waiting for him—just how shameless could he be?

"Miss Akagao, this guy is too much! He's humiliated you again and again despite only having a spiritual pressure equivalent to Ten tier," the effeminate boy protested, flanked by a group of sycophants.

Boa Akagao lowered her gaze, feigning fragility. "Everyone… The Shiba clan has always been considered a prestigious family by ours. If Shiba Kuroba truly has the ability to restore the Shiba name to its former glory… then even if he were to ask me to serve as a maid holding his blade, I… would have no choice but to comply."

She paused, casting a delicate glance around the gathered students.

"If we want to eliminate this… uncertainty, there may only be one solution."

At that moment, Boa Akagao's expression turned subtly coquettish, a practiced glimmer in her eyes. Had Kuroba seen this performance, he would have scoffed and called her a manipulative fox.

But right now, Kuroba's eyes were focused elsewhere—on the instructor overseeing this round of evaluation in the plaza.

Aizen Sōsuke.

The man who would one day shake all of Soul Society with his betrayal, but who now wore the calm and humble mask of a kind-hearted teacher.

In terms of intellect, Kuroba was clear: Aizen was second to none within Seireitei—perhaps only rivaled, and ultimately surpassed, by Urahara Kisuke, the former head of the Twelfth Division, who had once countered Aizen's every move.

Kuroba couldn't help but wonder if this "fine wine" he obtained from the Zanpakutō brewing system would put him on a collision course with this man—this future puppet master.

Still, he had a plan. If Boa Akagao behaved herself during the assessment, he'd let her off with a warning.

But if she tried any tricks...

Then not only Boa Akagao, but her entire entourage of flatterers would find themselves unceremoniously disqualified. Their dreams of entering the Shinō Academy crushed before they even began.

And when that happened… it wouldn't just cause a stir. It might shake the Seireitei to its core.

"Captain Aizen," a female voice said from the side, tone laced with irritation. "Is this the drunkard you mentioned?"

Her gaze fell on Kuroba with open suspicion. "That smile… it's unsettling. Is he scheming again?"

Aizen's eyes—mild behind his glasses, yet glinting with concealed calculation—finally turned toward Kuroba.

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