BLEACH: DRINKING MAKES ME STRONGER

The vast narrow room was cloaked in an inexplicable, stifling pressure.

Compared to the peacefully sleeping Shiba Kuroba, the group of freshmen led by Boa Akagao were like ants on a hot pan—restless, frantic, and on the verge of collapse.

Each student stared nervously at the Asauchi in their hands, only to feel rising panic take hold.

"No... no way. Why can't I resonate with any of them? These Zanpakutō feel like stagnant water—not even a ripple of response!"

"What the hell is going on?! I asked upperclassmen before coming here. They said resonance with an Asauchi was guaranteed—fusion comes later!"

"Could these be fake? Why isn't even one reacting?!"

"Damn it. Only five minutes left before the trial ends! If we don't achieve resonance, we fail the assessment. We might still stay in the Shin'ō Academy, but we'll be marked as bottom-tier trash forever!"

The scene descended into chaos.

Even Boa Akagao, who had entered the room full of confidence and cunning plans to use Kuroba as a tool, had lost all color in her face. Her calm demeanor faltered.

Everything she had done—scheming, posturing, manipulating—had been to rise above her peers and become the most brilliant Soul Reaper of her generation.

And now? She hadn't even managed to complete the first step: achieving spiritual resonance with a single Asauchi. Forget becoming a Shinigami—she was failing to meet even the baseline requirement of the entrance trial.

It was a devastating blow. And worse—everyone in her entourage was in the same position. Thirty to forty students, none of them successful. Not one had bonded with an Asauchi.

"Maybe we were too greedy," someone muttered. "We each tried to take too many at once... maybe the Asauchi were disgusted by our arrogance?"

Everyone stiffened. The truth of those words hit hard.

They looked down at their arms and realized the absurdity—seven or eight Asauchi per person, like hoarders rather than hopefuls. No reverence. No patience. Just entitlement.

"That bastard..." Aoi Dai suddenly snarled, veins bulging at his neck. "He knew this would happen. He baited us into doing this while he sat back and laughed! I'll kill him!"

He lunged forward, fury in his eyes.

But Boa Akagao quickly blocked him, voice sharp and cold.

"Don't be stupid. This is a sealed test chamber. If there's a Tenkai surveillance system running, any act of violence will be immediately flagged. We'll be expelled before we can even blink."

She took a breath, regaining control of herself, and continued:

"We don't have time to waste. Ditch the extra blades. Choose one Asauchi. Try to connect with it sincerely. It's our only chance."

Then, with eyes narrowed and voice icy, she added:

"As for him—Kuroba not only failed to obtain an Asauchi, he had the nerve to drink alcohol inside a sacred space. That alone is a gross violation of academy protocol."

Her eyes glittered with dark satisfaction.

"If Captain-Commander Yamamoto Genryūsai finds out, that drunk fool won't just lose his bet—he'll be purged from the academy entirely."

"Once he wakes up, he'll regret everything."

There was venom behind her smile. Even her usual delicate, coquettish mask had cracked, replaced by frustration and resentment.

Seeing the growing tension, Aoi Dai took the opportunity to shift the focus.

"Akagao is right. There's still time. Who knows, maybe we'll get lucky and pull the strongest Zanpakutō out of thin air."

As he spoke, he tossed aside the ten or so Asauchi he'd greedily hoarded, keeping only one.

Compared to the others, Aoi Dai had been one of the worst offenders—always clinging to Boa Akagao and matching her ambition with recklessness. At the start, both of them had tried to seize the Asauchi that Kuroba had touched, certain it held some advantage.

But now, those same blades felt like burning iron in their hands.

They stung with guilt. With failure.

And yet—there was no more time. Their only option now was to pray that, somehow, their reiryoku would spike just enough to resonate with the last Asauchi they chose.

Because if they knew the real reason none of the Asauchi responded…

If they understood that Kuroba's drunken experiment had unknowingly awakened the spirits within the Asauchi, monopolizing the spiritual pressure of the entire room…

They wouldn't just want to blame him.

They'd probably grab a rock and bash their own heads in out of frustration.

"Time is up. All examinees will now be withdrawn from the training barriers in succession. I hope you all achieved satisfactory results."

The voice of the proctor—an aged instructor affiliated with the Shin'ō Academy—resounded clearly in the artificially constructed spiritual space.

The hopeful expressions of the candidates shattered in an instant.

Even Boa Akagao, who had entered with high confidence in her resonance potential, stood stiffly in place—her heart sinking. The silence was soon broken by a panicked wail.

"No—this can't be happening!"

Buzz—!

Reiryoku surged within the barrier. Glimmering light from spiritual arrays flickered erratically as the barriers dissolved.

In the next moment, all the candidates—including the unconscious Shiba Kuroba, whose loud snoring echoed embarrassingly through the hall—were forcibly ejected from the narrow resonance chambers in a cascade of light.

The room fell still, save for the numerous discarded Asauchi strewn across the floor—lifeless, untouched, and unclaimed.

Outside the barrier, standing atop the observation platform near the Seireitei's auxiliary plaza, Aizen Sōsuke, acting chief examiner and captain of the 5th Division, observed the unfolding scene with composed elegance. Beside him, Kyoraku Shunsui, captain of the 8th Division, leaned lazily against a pillar, sipping sake.

Aizen's voice remained serene and cordial.

"Captain Kyoraku, based on spiritual fluctuations during the trial, this class appears to be full of promise. Hosting this narrow space resonance test has been enlightening."

He smiled, eyes calm behind his glasses.

"There are several students whose spiritual potential could lead to formidable Zanpakutō. In your opinion—who among them has the highest chance of forging the most powerful one?"

Though Aizen's voice remained soft and polished, his inner thoughts diverged dangerously—Among these candidates, which will make suitable subjects? The resonance tests weren't merely about compatibility. They were Aizen's way of scouting for malleable souls to experiment on—those whose spiritual pressure hinted at untapped, volatile evolution.

Kyoraku chuckled, but there was a cautious glint in his eyes.

"Well, Captain Aizen, if you're referring to that interesting fellow—Shiba Kuroba—he certainly made a scene. But spirit compatibility isn't always about loud entrances, is it?"

Before Aizen could respond, Hinamori Momo, vice-captain of the 5th Division, huffed indignantly.

"Tch. That rude idiot? I doubt even a base-level Asauchi would resonate with him. I hope he comes out empty-handed."

Her eyes burned with resentment—still seething over Kuroba's earlier provocations. Despite her usual reserved nature, something about the boy had provoked her.

Kyoraku smiled, slightly amused by her passion.

"Hinamori-kun, I think you've mistaken my fondness for sake with someone who doesn't know when to stop drinking," he said gently, teasing away the misunderstanding. "But in any case, I wouldn't underestimate Kuroba so easily. The Shiba clan does have a reputation, even if it's fallen on hard times."

"Indeed," Aizen interjected smoothly. "And it's worth noting that historically, over 80% of candidates successfully achieve initial resonance with their Asauchi. Only a handful ever fail to establish any bond at all."

He placed a reassuring hand on Hinamori's shoulder, smiling disarmingly.

"Kyoraku-taichō is not like Kuroba. He's an esteemed senior of both of us. Let's show proper respect."

Just then, Aizen's gaze snapped toward the shimmering entrance of the barrier.

"They're emerging."

Blinding light spilled from the barrier's gate as the first wave of students was expelled from the spiritual chamber. Cries of exhaustion, relief—and for some, despair—echoed out into the plaza.

Aizen's expression faltered.

Screams.

Curses.

And a shocking number of failed synchronizations.

More students than usual had returned without a single reaction from their Asauchi.

Even for Aizen, who had orchestrated hundreds of trials—this was unexpected.

His composed façade flickered for the briefest moment.

What interfered with the process?

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