BLEACH: DRINKING MAKES ME STRONGER

The smell of alcohol hung thick in the air, disrupting the tense silence like a slap across the face.

All eyes were drawn to the object Kuroba had thrown—it spun through the air, not a blade, but a bottle, gleaming under the light. For a second, many assumed it was a misused Zanpakutō.

Bang!

The bottle struck Aoi Dai squarely on the head, sending a burst of red splatter and a loud wail through the courtyard.

"M-Murder!" Aoi Dai clutched his head, blood trickling down his face. "Lord Aizen, you saw that, didn't you?! This Shiba Kuroba is clearly intoxicated! He needs to be restrained and expelled from the exam—talking about two or three Zanpakutō…! He's delusional!"

His voice grew shriller. He could feel his own test slipping through his fingers. This was his last chance: turn the blame on Kuroba.

"Guards! Apprehend him! He's a menace! It's insane enough for someone to bond with one Zanpakutō—two or three? Madness! If we let a drunk like him into Shin'ō Academy, it will tarnish the Gotei 13!"

Hinamori Momo, already fuming, stepped forward. "Enough!" she shouted. "He's mocking everything we stand for! A Shinigami's Zanpakutō is their soul. It's earned, not played with!"

Her hands clenched at her sides as she glared at Kuroba. His words had struck a nerve. In her eyes, the path to becoming a Shinigami was sacred—and this drunken fool dared trample on it.

Kuroba, swaying on his feet, slurred with a lazy grin, "Who says I don't have a Zanpakutō?" His glassy eyes landed on Hinamori. "So it's the second wife. You think I'm lying?"

He paused dramatically. "If I'm lying, I'm a puppy. If not... you're the puppy."

Confusion rippled through the crowd.

"Second wife, help me out, will you?" Kuroba continued with drunken enthusiasm. "You're always by my side anyway. Hold on—I'll show you my Zanpakutō now."

He began fumbling through his robes, much to everyone's mortification.

Second wife?

Even Hinamori froze in stunned silence, unable to process what she had just been called. Kyoraku Shunsui sighed heavily, one hand covering his face. He had already pushed for leniency regarding Kuroba—but now things were spiraling into pure chaos.

"You're dead," Hinamori growled, her face twisted in fury. With a flash of shunpo, she appeared in front of Kuroba, hand outstretched to grab him—

—but her wrist was caught mid-motion.

The grip was firm, unrelenting. Her breath hitched. Despite her efforts, she couldn't break free. Her face paled.

"Second wife, you really do care about me." Kuroba's tone was almost tender—if it weren't so utterly inappropriate. "Let me show you my Zanpakutō, then."

He resumed patting himself down, eyes hazy, unbothered by the mounting hostility around him.

Then—

"Shiba Kuroba!"

A high-pitched voice rang out, sharp with panic. Everyone turned to see Kuchiki Rukia rushing into the scene.

"You really did steal the 13th Division's cooking wine?! Give it back—NOW!"

But Rukia stopped short. Her eyes locked on the sight of Kuroba holding Hinamori's wrist. Her expression froze.

What… is going on here?

"Hiccup… Eldest wife, you're here too?" Kuroba's voice was thick with drink. He raised a hand, gesturing to Hinamori. "Let me introduce you—this is my second wife. She wanted to see my Zanpakutō… or two… or three. So I'm getting ready to show her."

In full view of everyone, he flipped the cork off the wine bottle and gulped it down in one long, greedy chug.

It wasn't ordinary wine—it was cooking wine.

And he finished it in one go.

The audience could only gape. Rukia looked like she was about to faint.

"Good wine!" Kuroba declared, licking his lips.

Ding!

System notification: Brewing Progress for 'Zanpakutō Wine' has reached 1000%. Would you like to initiate manifestation?

Kuroba blinked, dazed. "Wait… someone's offering me more wine? Excellent! Bring it on!"

He casually tossed the empty bottle aside.

Hinamori, still locked in his grip, had reached her breaking point. As she prepared to attack, a flicker of light caught her eye.

Another bottle had appeared in Kuroba's hand—this one completely different from the one before.

It wasn't the crude, brown bottle of kitchen stock.

It was sleek, jet-black with a glossy surface that shimmered with subtle reiatsu. The glass glowed faintly like a star-flecked gem, radiant and unreal.

The first sensation was like beholding the Milky Way itself—gorgeous, dazzling, and infinite in depth.

It was as if the brilliance wasn't just seen—it pulled at the soul, stirring something within.

From a distance, Kyoraku Shunsui's laid-back gaze sharpened as he caught sight of the bottle of wine in Kuroba's hand. His fan drooped slightly as his eyes widened in disbelief.

"Pfft—!"

With practiced ease, Kuroba popped the cork. A burst of rich, potent aroma surged forth, not unlike a kido explosion, sweeping over the courtyard in a wave of intoxicating intensity.

The spiritual pressure imbued within the wine—whether intentional or accidental—caused even the faintest Reiryoku around the area to shimmer unnaturally.

The scent alone stirred the very soul, creating the illusion of drifting weightlessly through clouds.

Even Aizen Sōsuke, ever composed and reserved, involuntarily drew in a breath.

"...Good wine."

"This fragrance... it's beyond anything I've ever smelled."

"Just a sip... I feel like I could see my Zanpakutō's true form!"

Voices whispered around the courtyard, breaking into unguarded awe.

Even Hinamori Momo, her wrist still lightly grasped by Kuroba from before, felt her senses dulled. She blinked, cheeks turning pink, unsure whether it was the wine or the boy holding her attention.

"Second wife," Kuroba slurred jokingly, eyes hazy but smiling, "You want a drink too? Might be tough... this is the only bottle I've got. Maybe add a little water... make it last?"

And without waiting, he tilted the bottle back and drank straight from it.

Hinamori's eyes widened in horror and embarrassment. Drink it with water?! The implications hit her too late. She turned scarlet to the tips of her ears, recalling what she'd just blurted earlier.

Her eyes stayed fixed on the trail of wine sliding down his throat.

In an instant, Shunsui appeared next to Kuroba with a silent Shunpo, the glint in his eyes betraying how serious he was.

"Oi oi... save a little for your elders, brat," Shunsui said, reaching for the bottle. "That stuff's got more punch than Yamamoto's ancient stockpile…"

Seeing the nearly empty bottle, Shunsui's heart sank.

"You've got no idea how much you just wasted, kid."

Kuroba blinked drunkenly. "Hic—Brother? It's you... don't worry, there's still a few drops in there. Mix it with water or something. I feel invincible! Like I could wield three Zanpakutō at once! Where are my swords?!"

He shoved the bottle at Shunsui and staggered backward, swaying like a drunken shinigami after New Year's.

Then—

CLANG—!

A sudden sharp ring of steel echoed in the air.

Then another.

And another.

One after the next, the crisp clash of swords being drawn, resonating, filled the area.

The sound grew deafening, building into a massive harmonic vibration.

From within the narrow space trial area, the asauchi—once silent and dormant—now pulsed with overwhelming spiritual response.

Even the Reiryoku barriers surrounding the space trembled, unable to fully suppress the call of awakening blades.

The crowd froze. The drunken haze lifted.

Aizen's warm smile vanished, his eyes narrowing in controlled disbelief.

Shunsui's fan dropped to his side.

All eyes turned to the trial gate—its obsidian glow flickering erratically.

"Impossible... this kind of resonance… from one student?"

Someone whispered the unthinkable.

"He's waking multiple Zanpakutō?"

For a moment, time seemed to stop.

The scent of the divine wine still lingered—but now it was the sound of swords that gripped the soul.

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