Perhaps it's been too long since I've seen such outstanding Shinigami siblings… that old mind of mine did indeed entertain the thought, if only for a moment," Yamamoto Genryūsai murmured.
"However," he continued, gripping his cane-shaped Zanpakutō—Ryūjin Jakka—with both hands, "we must observe further. Reiatsu is only one facet of a Shinigami's strength. It is not the entirety of their being."
"I understand, Teacher Yamamoto," Jūshirō Ukitake responded respectfully. "Tomorrow, I'll take them to receive their sealed states."
"After that, I'll begin instructing them in Zanjutsu, Hakuda, Hohō, and Kidō—cutting, fists, steps, and demon arts."
Ukitake understood his teacher's implication well.
Reiatsu, the foundation of a Shinigami's power, could not be underestimated. But mastery of the Four Pillars of Shinigami Combat—Zan-Ken-Sō-Ki—was essential. Without them, even the greatest Reiatsu was nothing more than raw, uncontrolled force.
Most crucial of all was the Zanpakutō.
In a battle between two Shinigami, one wielding a powerful and specialized Zanpakutō and the other bearing only a standard blade, victory was seldom dictated by spiritual pressure alone—unless the gap was immense.
Yamamoto's meaning was clear.
If Akira and Aizen displayed extraordinary aptitude in the Four Pillars, and their Zanpakutōs revealed potent, unique abilities upon awakening, then the fleeting notion of taking them as disciples would transform into certainty.
Otherwise, it would remain a brief flicker of interest—like a shooting star in the dark, dazzling but momentary.
The next day.
Jūshirō Ukitake arrived early at the Shin'ō Spiritual Arts Academy.
Whether it was the possibility of Yamamoto taking Akira as a disciple, or the emergence of two once-in-a-generation prodigies in his own class, he took the matter seriously.
Standing before the newly assembled First-Class students, Ukitake smiled gently and bowed with dignity.
"As your primary instructor, allow me to introduce myself properly," he began. "I am Jūshirō Ukitake, Captain of the 13th Division. It is my honor to guide you during your time at the Academy. I hope we can grow together in mutual respect."
He didn't carry the airs of a veteran Gotei 13 captain. Despite his noble bearing and immense power, Ukitake remained humble—especially before students still finding their path.
As he swept his gaze across the classroom, he noted the faces of his students.
Most were of noble origin—scions of established houses or branches of lesser noble families.
A handful stood apart—commoners from Rukongai, including Tōsen Kaname, Hisagi Shūhei, and others from the distant districts, like District 80. Their presence in the First-Class was no small feat.
But Ukitake's eyes inevitably came to rest on two young men seated in the back—Akira and Aizen Sōsuke.
An aura of quiet power surrounded them. They were not just exceptional—they were abnormal, transcending all standard metrics.
"Now," Ukitake said, holding up a scroll, "the following students, when your name is called, please come with me."
"We will proceed to retrieve your sealed Zanpakutō—the foundation of your soul. Never underestimate or neglect it. The day you draw it may be the day your destiny is forged."
He began to read:
"Akira Sōsuke."
"Aizen Sōsuke."
"Tōsen Kaname."
"Komamura Sajin."
"Hisagi Shūhei."
"Aramaki Makizō."
…
As the list went on, it became increasingly clear that most of those summoned were from Rukongai or minor lineages.
Just as Akira expected.
"So that's how it is…" he whispered to himself, eyes scanning the room with silent critique. "Those of noble blood are issued a sealed Zanpakutō at a young age, while the rest of us must wait for a formal assignment."
"A corrupt and ossified system," he muttered. "If the distribution of sealed blades were made public and universal, Seireitei's standing army of Shinigami could easily double—or triple."
Aizen glanced sideways at him, the same sharp look in his eye.
"You're not wrong," he murmured. "But they won't change it. Nobility and suppression go hand in hand."
Just then, a playful yet firm voice broke the tension.
"Ne, Ukitake—can we tag along too?"
It was Shihōin Yoruichi, lounging with her arms crossed. As the daughter of the noble Shihōin clan, she wasn't one to sit idle in a classroom when there was something more entertaining happening nearby.
"If we're not needed in class right now, I'd rather go watch the fun."
Ukitake chuckled softly.
"Of course," he said kindly. "Any student interested in observing the sealed blade distribution may accompany us."
"But Yoruichi-san," he added with mock sternness, "please call me Sensei. Or at least 'Jūshirō-sensei.'"
"Got it, Jūshirō," she said with a grin, completely ignoring the second part.
The class laughed, and Ukitake could only shake his head in resignation.
Of course, he didn't mind. Shihōin Yoruichi wasn't just a noble—she was one of the few who could have skipped the Academy entirely. With her strength, background, and natural talent in Hakuda and Shunpo, she could have walked straight into the 2nd Division as a seated officer, possibly even vice-captain.
In just a few years, once Bankai is mastered, one can immediately qualify for captaincy.
To stand shoulder to shoulder with the elite.
At present, it's more accurate to say they're attending the Academy for formality's sake—to add a layer of polish—than to actually learn. Wearing the emblem of the Shin'ō Spiritual Arts Academy lends authority, especially if one intends to eventually take over the Second Division, currently under the purview of Yamamoto Genryūsai himself.
Under the guidance of Jūshirō Ukitake, Akira and his group soon arrived at an ancient, solemn building. The air was heavy with spiritual energy. The structure was wrapped tightly in layers of Kidō barriers, signifying something of importance—something sacred.
"Open."
Jūshirō Ukitake extended his hand and pressed it against the door, releasing a burst of Reiatsu in a pattern that mimicked the Eighteen Arhat Car Strikes—a rare Hakuda technique from the western arts. The power passed in a flash, like lightning across a dark sky, yet it left the hearts of onlookers stirred.
Tōsen Kaname, Komamura Sajin, and the rest felt their breathing tighten.
Even Urahara Kisuke, standing quietly at the rear, narrowed his eyes in silent acknowledgment.
Only Akira and Aizen remained untouched by awe. They carried on, chatting as if the spiritual display were no more than a passing breeze.
After all, no matter how formidable Shiba Kūkaku's famed combat techniques were, they weren't enough to make these two show weakness.
"Captain Jūshirō."
As the thick attic doors creaked open, revealing a hidden chamber within, two stationed Shinigami stepped forward and saluted.
"No need to be so formal," Ukitake replied kindly. "I've brought these students to collect their sealed Zanpakutō."
He handed over the student roster with a smile.
The guards skimmed the names, nodded, and began moving several long boxes from within—each containing a sealed state Zanpakutō, an unawakened soul-cutting blade awaiting resonance.
"All sealed states are equal in appearance," Ukitake explained. "There is no difference in rank or quality here."
"Once received, you will begin the process of imprinting it with your spiritual essence, convictions, and first touch of Reiatsu. You'll eat with it, sleep with it, and eventually forge your own, unique Zanpakutō."
"Choose whichever you're drawn to."
He didn't enforce a formal assignment. Instead, he let the students approach freely and make their own selections.
Tōsen Kaname, Komamura Sajin, Hisagi Shūhei, and Kusaka Sōjirō stepped forward with faces lit by anticipation and awe.
To them—and many others—this moment marked the threshold between ordinary and divine.
The difference between living as a soul—and standing as a Shinigami.
But not all students moved.
Akira and Aizen remained motionless.
"Brother," Aizen whispered, his glasses catching a flicker of ambient light. "I just heard a voice… it rejected the sealed blades in front of us. It refuses to let me claim one."
Akira blinked, startled for a moment, then narrowed his eyes thoughtfully.
As expected of the man dubbed Soul Society's most intelligent Shinigami.
Even from a single conversation with the spirit of his blade, Aizen gleaned information that eluded most.
The sealed state may be stable—perhaps even functional—but something within them lacked resonance. Or worse, they contained remnants of spiritual interference.
"A voice?" Akira murmured. "You mean… without receiving a sealed Zanpakutō, you've already connected with yours?"
A moment later, his surprise faded. He gave a knowing smirk.
"As expected… of a king."
After all, even Hitsugaya Tōshirō could hear Hyōrinmaru's voice before entering the Academy. There's no reason someone who had crushed Hitsugaya into the ground couldn't do the same—or more.
Reflecting on the manga canon, Akira recalled:
Those born with peak potential often manifested Zanpakutō without needing sealed states.
Hitsugaya Tōshirō did.
Aizen Sōsuke did.
Kurosaki Ichigo would in the future.
Even the Royal Guard (Zero Division)—before Ōetsu Nimaiya standardized the sealed state—manifested their own Zanpakutō naturally, as did the progenitors of the Four Great Noble Houses.
At that moment, a system notification echoed in Lan Yan's mind:
[Upon learning that Aizen can hear his Zanpakutō's voice, your own blade declared that no one shall surpass you. It chooses to appear before you voluntarily.]
Lan Yan's eyes widened.
Before he could speak, a surge of Reiatsu began bubbling from within him.
Like a torrent bursting through a dam, spiritual pressure flooded from his core, rushing toward his outstretched palm like a river carving its path through mountains.
It was as if something ancient and proud, forged in the depth of his soul, was clawing its way into the world—ready to reveal itself.