"If there's anything about us that would draw the attention of the Four Great Noble Houses," Aizen mused, "it has to be either our Zanpakutō abilities or our talent."
"But those can't be stolen."
"Which means… it must be something else. Something they think is the cause of our gifts—not the gifts themselves."
"And unlike talent or a Zanpakutō, this thing can be taken from us."
As he spoke, Aizen raised his right hand and lightly curled his fingers into a half-clenched grip.
It was a simple, casual motion.
But in Lan Yan's eyes, it felt like he was watching his younger brother symbolically crush all four noble houses in his palm.
"…Fragments of the Soul King."
The moment Aizen finished speaking, Lan Yan fell into thoughtful silence.
But a possibility instantly surfaced in his mind.
He didn't doubt Aizen's logic—not for a second.
Cheats and systems could give him strength, but not the cunning and insight that made Aizen… Aizen.
If his little brother had reached this conclusion, then the truth couldn't be far off.
And in that moment, four words appeared in Lan Yan's mind:
Soul King Fragments.
The shattered remnants of the being once worshipped as the god of all realms. Scattered across the Three Worlds after being dissected.
"You thought of something, didn't you?"
Aizen's eyes lit up as he saw Lan Yan's expression subtly shift.
"Nothing much," Lan Yan replied with a straight face. "Just happened to master another Hadō spell while walking."
He said it completely seriously.
And he wasn't lying.
While Aizen was analyzing schemes and unraveling hidden threats, Lan Yan's inner talents had once again refused to sit still.
His "crew" had been hard at work.
—Your Kidō says: Filthy mongrels are beneath notice. Two seconds ago, it mastered Hadō #63 – Raikōhō.
—Your Swordsmanship says: Anyone who offends you shall be cut down. I just learned the technique Twofold Severance—ready to split anything in our path.
—Your Spiritual Pressure, offended by nothing in particular, trained relentlessly and surged to 8.5-carriage level.
The only one that hadn't piped up was his Zanpakutō, which seemed to be off somewhere plotting a grand reveal.
Maybe working on Bankai in secret.
"…"
The smile on Aizen's face faded.
Silently, he began walking forward again.
So we were showing off our intellect together…
And you decided to flex muscles instead?
He'd been setting up for a grand display of analysis and deduction—and Lan Yan just casually steamrolled it all with raw talent.
Three days?
No.
He decided right then and there: tonight, he would complete his Shikai.
Even if intelligence was part of power, he refused to be relegated to the role of "strategist little brother."
He would stand beside Lan Yan, not behind him.
Elsewhere.
After leaving Shinō Academy, Byakuya Kuchiki returned to the Kuchiki estate, escorted in silence by elite guards hidden in the shadows.
Waiting for him in the courtyard was his grandfather, the current clan head—Kuchiki Ginrei.
"Grandfather," Byakuya said, bowing respectfully.
"I did as you asked. I found a pretext to engage Lan Yan Sōsuke in a match."
"It was… a disgrace. I failed to uphold the honor of the Kuchiki name."
He recounted the duel in full.
"Spiritual pressure exceeding standard captain levels…"
"Mastered all Kidō under #60 in an impossibly short time…"
"This is no ordinary talent," Ginrei murmured.
His voice was calm, but the flicker in his eyes betrayed his shaken thoughts.
"Don't dwell on it, Byakuya."
"If the path of a Shinigami is a long-distance race, then yes, Lan Yan is sprinting ahead of you."
"But this is not a hundred-meter dash. Not even a thousand."
"It's a race that spans centuries. Millennia."
"And in such a race, what matters is not who sprints—but who never stops running."
"Others may burn out. Others may fall."
"But if you keep running, without rest, without distraction, without anger… the finish line will eventually be yours."
Byakuya's clenched fists slowly relaxed.
He had never tasted this kind of humiliation before.
But he listened carefully.
Ginrei continued with a faint smile:
"Zanjutsu, Hakuda, Kidō—even spiritual pressure—they all have limits."
"There comes a point where no matter how gifted you are, you can't go any further."
"Let him take the early lead. Your strength will come in the second half."
Byakuya closed his eyes, slowly regaining his composure.
"…I won't let you down, Grandfather."
"You never have."
"Now go," Ginrei said. "Master your Bankai. Once you do, the difference in spiritual pressure will vanish—perhaps even reverse."
"And then, with your blade… wash away today's disgrace."
Yes.
For a street-born Shinigami, unlocking Bankai required talent and luck.
But for the Kuchiki clan, one of the Four Great Noble Houses?
They had their methods.
They didn't have Urahara Kisuke's later-invented Hōgyoku or Tenshintai—but they had their rituals, techniques, and secret treasures.
"Yes, sir!"
A spark of determination flared in Byakuya's eyes.
Never before had he wanted so desperately to surpass someone.
Not even when Yoruichi constantly tormented him in his youth.
"You heard him, didn't you?"
Ginrei asked, still sipping from his teacup as he watched his grandson disappear into the manor.
From the shadows, a figure emerged.
He wore the ceremonial robes of the Tsunayashiro clan, and his sharp, slanted eyes gave him a cold, predatory look. Long green hair spilled down his back.
Kanmuriyashiro Tokinada.
The clan head of the Tsunayashiro family—another of the Four Great Noble Houses.
"Loud and clear," Tokinada said with a smirk.
"If there was doubt before, there's none now."
"That kind of potential goes beyond mere genius."
"Lan Yan—and that brother of his, Aizen—they've both likely been touched by the Soul King's fragments."
"And they've figured out how to use them."
Ginrei remained silent.
But he didn't disagree.
"They're already in the Gotei 13's sights."
"Born from Rukongai. Clean backgrounds. Just the kind of talent Captain-Commander Yamamoto likes to recruit."
"In other words…" Tokinada narrowed his eyes.
"They're already inside his sphere of influence."
Ginrei sipped his tea again.
And said nothing.
But his silence spoke volumes.