BLEACH: DRINKING MAKES ME STRONGER

  "Then go ahead—but don't regret it later."

  With that, Shiba Kuroba turned and walked calmly toward the next Asauchi.

  His brief contact with the first one had already activated the "Hand of Dionysus," yielding a 0.5% increase in the brewing progress of his Zanpakutō wine. The number nearly made him faint—at this pace, he'd need to handle hundreds of Asauchi, and his hands might blister before he got anywhere meaningful.

  He needed a shortcut. Time to test the second hypothesis.

  Thinking this, Kuroba uncorked the bottle of wine he had previously received from Boa Akagao, drawing attention from the nearby examinees.

  Just moments ago, he had attempted to use the Hand of Dionysus on it to detect any toxins—but the ability had not responded. That suggested something unusual: either the wine was too pure to trigger a reaction, or it was something... special.

  "Akagao, look! He's actually drinking it already?" a surprised student blurted out.

  Several nearby candidates turned to look.

  "Hmph. He's obviously trying to steel his nerves," sneered Aoi Dai. "With so many of us applying pressure, I'm sure he's panicking. Probably drinking to bolster his courage."

  Aoi smirked coldly. "Too bad for him. That wine was prepared just for him—with an alcohol concentration of over 60%. He'll be drunk in no time."

  "Drinking during a trial to resonate with an Asauchi? What a joke."

  "Throwing away his future," someone else muttered.

  Among them, the act of drinking mid-trial was viewed as a disgrace—especially for someone with Kuroba's reputation as a notorious drunkard.

  "Haha," Boa Akagao chuckled softly, "let's just wait and enjoy the show. If he collapses in front of everyone, all the better for us. No one will believe a drunkard, and if he fails to resonate with any Asauchi, his so-called 'genius' status will vanish overnight."

  "Imagine the look on his face when he realizes what he's lost."

  Aoi and the others shared a malicious grin at the thought.

  "Good wine," Kuroba muttered, his eyes lighting up as the liquid scorched down his throat like a fire dragon. The intense warmth spread through his limbs, driving out the chill of the trial grounds.

  Ding—Shunpo Proficiency +10

  The ethereal voice of the system echoed in his mind. Kuroba's brows shot up.

  He hadn't expected that.

  Despite Boa Akagao's scheming, the wine was potent—and apparently, effective.

  "Thanks for the booze, Knife-Maid," he called out with a mocking grin, raising his flask to her as if in a toast.

  The comment drew another wave of hostility, just as intended.

  Fueled by curiosity and alcohol, he reached out to the second Asauchi.

  "That bastard! Still joking around? He's clearly drunk already," Aoi Dai snapped.

  But his smirk faded when Kuroba touched the second Asauchi and the spiritual feedback resonated.

  Boa Akagao, still attempting her own connection, suddenly frowned.

  "The effect really is stronger," Kuroba mused. "Touching just one more Asauchi gave me another 1% progress in the brew."

  Could the wine's effects amplify with increased intoxication?

  Driven by that theory, he took another swig and tossed the second Asauchi at Aoi Dai like it was garbage.

  Then, without hesitation, he moved to the third.

  Aoi Dai stood there dumbfounded, cradling the sword. His brain froze for a moment.

  Behind him, Kuroba downed more wine, now visibly hazy—but still sharp enough to reach for the fourth Asauchi.

  "Brother Aoi... is he playing us?" Sato asked hesitantly.

  Boa Akagao's awakening of her own Zanpakutō had given them hope—but now, Kuroba's actions seemed chaotic and unpredictable.

  "Hmph. He's underestimating us," Aoi growled. "There are over forty of us here. As long as he touches an Asauchi, we take it immediately. I refuse to let him hoard all the good ones."

  "Exactly! We'll follow behind him and pick up whatever he drops. He'll end up empty-handed," Sato echoed with renewed confidence.

  As Kuroba approached the fifth Asauchi, completely unaware of the pack forming behind him, the hunt for advantage had quietly begun.

He was completely immersed in the drinking and the system's incessant prompts.

Especially the rapidly increasing brewing proficiency.

Each sip of the high-grade spirit wine seemed to accelerate his inner connection with the Asauchi.

"So it's true," Kuroba muttered to himself, eyes glazed from intoxication but mind unusually clear. "The more I drink, the faster the brewing progress…"

Right now, his synchronization with Zanpakutō spirit brewing had reached 3% with a single Asauchi—already surpassing the average rate of resonance most students achieved during early Shinō Academy trials.

This resonance typically required calm meditation, days of effort, and mental clarity. Kuroba was achieving it while drunk.

Even more shocking, each sip didn't just enhance the connection with the Asauchi—it subtly honed his Shunpo (Flash Step) proficiency. The energy flow in his limbs became more agile, more precise.

He was drunk, but in a frighteningly productive way.

"Good wine... this is real good wine... refreshing!" Kuroba let out a drunken laugh, tipping back the gourd as he swayed with surprising control across the training field.

The tip of his foot glided just inches above the row of Asauchi.

The [Hand of Dionysus]—the mysterious technique linked to his system—brushed over each hilt like a painter's hand. Though his steps seemed random, he never once stumbled or misjudged. The moment his palm touched the Asauchi, a sliver of spiritual connection was transferred. A moment of communion.

Behind him, the followers of Aoi—jealous and suspicious—watched in stunned silence.

His drunken movements should have disqualified him.

Yet his rhythm, his precision, the effortless grace with which he brushed past each Asauchi... it was no accident.

They couldn't even tell if the Asauchi he touched were the same ones available or had already vanished into his spiritual resonance. They feared the worst: that he was monopolizing them all.

"Damn that guy!" Aoi growled, lips twitching with frustration. "You want to play games? We'll play to the end!"

He turned to the crowd. "Everyone—grab as many Asauchi as you can! I want every last one held. If we surround him and each take three or four, he won't have any left to bond with!"

"But... isn't that against the rules?" someone hesitated.

"Not if we're still in the selection process!" Sato sneered, raising his arm. "We mustn't lose face. If we back down now, we'll be a laughingstock!"

Within minutes, dozens of freshmen fanned out behind Kuroba.

Each carried multiple Asauchi in their arms—three, four, even five blades apiece—like hoarders guarding their spoils.

Had Kuroba been sober, he might've laughed at the scene and dubbed them eunuchs holding swords—powerless and pathetic.

But now, he was far too deep into the system's trance-like loop.

[Ding! Brewing progress: 82%... 89%... 97%... 100%!]

[Zanpakutō Wine Formation Achieved. Continuing optimization...]

The system notifications echoed in his mind with rapid-fire clarity.

But Kuroba didn't notice. He was lost in the rhythm of touch, drink, step. Over and over, the cycle repeated.

Somewhere past the fiftieth minute, he had unknowingly touched over a thousand Asauchi.

His spirit energy had subtly poured into each one.

And when the final Asauchi was touched, Kuroba swayed once more—then collapsed face-first onto the stone floor, snoring like a content beast.

Silence.

The group behind him stared blankly, expressions pale.

Some were beginning to panic.

They had grabbed so many Asauchi—but their spiritual pressure hadn't resonated with a single one.

In Bleach canon, Asauchi are not just swords—they are blank slates made from the essence of Zanpakutō spirits, waiting to be personalized through resonance. Kuroba's method, though unorthodox, had triggered something unique: mass contact through spiritual alcohol, channeling unconscious self-identity into each blade.

Now, those left behind wondered:

Had he already claimed them all?

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