BLEACH: DRINKING MAKES ME STRONGER

Kyoraku Shunsui's sudden inquiry drew everyone's attention at once. Even Aizen Sōsuke and Hinamori Momo appeared somewhat surprised.

Everyone present could tell that Boa Akagao's group — especially the fawning nobles and their sycophants — harbored no goodwill toward Shiba Kuroba. But whether it was the other examinees, or Aizen and Hinamori themselves, none had the intention of interfering. On the contrary, many were curious to see whether this arrogant freshman, who dared to flaunt a "Ten Bamboo"-level spiritual pressure, would finally be taught a lesson.

So, no one expected that someone of Kyoraku Shunsui's status would openly support Kuroba.

All eyes turned toward the lone figure.

With the Eighth Division's Captain speaking up, this was Kuroba's best chance to avoid conflict. But—

"Captain Kyoraku," Kuroba said with an easy smile, "since I want to lead, of course I must advance bravely. I'll go first—wait for my good news."

With that, he stepped forward toward the black stone gate. The moment his foot touched the threshold, his figure vanished, transferred instantly by the gate's Kidō barrier to another region of the trial grounds.

"The young are always formidable," the supervising elder murmured with a sigh. Though old, his eyes remained sharp — and what he saw unsettled him.

Kyoraku scratched his cheek with a helpless smile. "Let's just hope they all make it out in one piece."

"They?" the elder repeated with a frown, confused. Before he could ask further, Boa Akagao had already stepped forward with a smile and followed Kuroba into the narrow space.

Right behind her, Aoi Dai — a feminine-looking noble youth — stepped up, eyes gleaming.

In that instant, it was as if the floodgates had been opened. Dozens of students rushed in after them, clearly having no intention of letting the matter end there.

Within the Narrow Room

When Kuroba regained his senses, he found himself standing atop a vast expanse of ice.

Silence ruled the space, and above him hung a pale, unmoving moon — unnaturally full, bathing everything in a cold, eerie light. The only objects breaking the flat horizon were numerous Asauchi — blank Zanpakutō — embedded in the ice like solemn tombstones.

As his spiritual pressure unconsciously radiated outward, the blades around him began to emit a faint white glow, their hums sounding like distant whispers.

Kuroba's eyes narrowed. Strange...

The Asauchi were all forged by Nimaiya Ōetsu of the Royal Guard — the creator of all Zanpakutō and member of the Zero Division. Each one carried infinite potential, but remained inert unless its wielder could forge a bond through spiritual communion. Only through resonance — by communicating with the spirit dwelling inside — could a Shinigami awaken their unique Zanpakutō.

The blade itself did not contain power. It was the reflection of the soul.

Only those truly in tune with themselves — those whose soul resonated with the sword — could draw out its name.

Kuroba took a deep breath. He was ready.

Just as he stepped forward to approach the nearest blade, a ripple spread across the ice.

Buzz.

Spiritual energy surged as more students arrived.

Turning calmly, Kuroba saw Boa Akagao's figure materialize nearby. Behind her followed Aoi Dai, and then the rest — dozens of students.

Their arrival brought an obvious tension, but Kuroba only glanced at them once before returning his attention to the nearest Asauchi. Their intentions were clear, but he wouldn't waste time on distractions.

He was here to find his sword.

"Akagao, he's ignoring us again." Aoi Dai's voice was low and sour. "Still as arrogant as ever. Let's put him in his place."

The sycophants muttered in agreement, some tightening their grips on their own training weapons.

But Boa Akagao simply smiled and raised a hand. "No... not yet."

She took a step forward, her voice cool and measured.

"We all know he's arrogant. But arrogance doesn't matter when it's backed by talent — and Kuroba's spiritual pressure ranks at Ten Bamboo. That's not something we can dismiss."

Her gaze turned toward Kuroba.

"It's said that in the Narrow Room, those with extraordinary aptitude can resonate with a unique Asauchi. They can sense and claim a sword that's already begun forming its own soul."

Her meaning became clear.

Aoi Dai's eyes widened. "You're saying... let him awaken it first, then take it?"

"Exactly," Boa Akagao said softly, her eyes gleaming. "We're not stealing. We're borrowing. If he can awaken the strongest Zanpakutō here... why shouldn't we have it?"

"But... can you even take someone else's Zanpakutō?" one of the lackeys whispered.

Boa laughed gently. "With enough spiritual pressure, and before the bond is fully formed — yes, it's possible. The sword isn't bound until its true name is called. Until then, it's just a blade."

The implications made the group stir with excitement.

Most had only followed Akagao out of admiration, but now, with the possibility of stealing power — real power — their eyes burned with greed.

"There, look!" Aoi Dai pointed forward. "He's choosing one. That's it — Akagao, if you're going to make your move, do it now! That sword might be the strongest in this entire trial!"

When Kuroba caught the first Asauchi, his eyes narrowed slightly, doubt flickering across his expression.

Still, in order to maintain appearances—and perhaps for the sake of impressing the crowd—he gritted his teeth and held on.

"Thank you, Aoi. If I succeed, I won't forget the support from everyone." Boa Akagao responded with a soft smile, her voice full of practiced sweetness.

Without wasting a moment, she stepped toward Kuroba, heels clicking lightly against the stone floor of the Asauchi selection hall.

She was worried—deeply so. A genius like Shiba Kuroba resonating with an Asauchi this early could disrupt her plans entirely.

Of course, if she had even the slightest idea of what Kuroba was thinking at that moment, she might never have dared attempt such manipulation.

"Kuroba-kun," Boa Akagao said in a honeyed tone, her crimson hair cascading over one shoulder, "didn't you just say you were going to take me in as a maid holding a blade? You see, I just felt a strange pull toward the Asauchi in your hand. Could you… let me try connecting with it?"

She wore a high-slit academy skirt regulation skirt, but had clearly tailored it to flirt with the edge of impropriety—a natural coquette playing to the crowd.

Kuroba blinked, then dismissed the system interface from his vision and raised a skeptical brow.

He had already sensed the spiritual interference coming from Akagao's group across the room. The ploy was as transparent as water.

"You mean this one?" he said flatly, raising the Asauchi slightly. "It feels dead to me. Like a still pond. I doubt it's even worth your time."

"Dead water?" Boa Akagao faltered, the words throwing her off for a moment.

At that moment, Aoi stepped out from behind the crowd, sneering with thinly veiled contempt.

"What, you afraid she'll outshine you?" he said. "Claiming you care about Akagao and then hogging the Asauchi for yourself. Sounds like talk without action."

Talk without action?

Kuroba rolled his eyes. He had no interest in arguing with lackeys pretending to be knights.

Without another word, he tossed the Asauchi toward them and turned away. "Then take it. But don't say I didn't warn you."

With that, Kuroba walked calmly toward the next Asauchi lined up on the stands.

Just a moment ago, the brief contact he had made had increased his Hand of Dionysus brewing progress for Zanpakutō wine by 0.5%.

The number nearly made his knees weak. At this rate, sampling every single Asauchi would take days—if not weeks.

And he had no intention of getting calluses for it.

What he needed now was to test his second hypothesis.

Reaching into his robes, Kuroba calmly retrieved the bottle of fine spirit he had taken from Boa Akagao earlier—right in front of everyone.

He had already attempted to use the Hand of the God of Wine ability to distill it into a poison-checking brew. If there were any toxins, the brew should have failed or revealed a reaction.

But the result had been… nothing. The system had refused to even process it.

And in Kuroba's experience, that only meant one thing:

This wine wasn't just poisonous—it wasn't even wine.

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