"Perhaps it's been too long since I've seen Shinigami brothers this exceptional,"
"...but for a moment, I did consider taking them as disciples."
"Still… I'll need to see more."
"Spiritual pressure is only one part of a Shinigami. Not the whole."
Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni rested both hands atop his cane-shaped Zanpakutō.
"I understand, Master Yamamoto," Ukitake Jūshirō replied.
"I'll take them to receive their Asauchi first thing tomorrow."
"After that, we'll begin instruction in Zanjutsu, Hakuda, Hohō, and Kidō."
Ukitake nodded to himself, mind already turning.
Spiritual pressure was a Shinigami's foundation—but far from the whole picture.
Swordsmanship. Hand-to-hand combat. Speed techniques. Demon arts.
And above all else, the Zanpakutō.
Two Shinigami of equal strength—if one wielded a supreme-class Zanpakutō while the other held only a generic blade—then unless the difference in their spiritual pressure were several times over, the former would always win.
Yamamoto's meaning couldn't be clearer.
If Lan Yan and Aizen not only possessed tremendous spiritual pressure but also showed rare talent in the Four Techniques—and awakened powerful Zanpakutō—then his interest in taking them as disciples wouldn't just be a passing thought.
It would become a decision.
Otherwise, like a meteor flashing through the sky, the idea would vanish in an instant.
The Next Day.
Ukitake arrived at Shinō Academy bright and early.
Whether it was Yamamoto's interest in taking on disciples or the emergence of the Lan brothers in Class One, he took both matters seriously.
"As your homeroom instructor, allow me to formally introduce myself."
"I'm Ukitake Jūshirō."
"It's an honor to teach you all and form this bond as mentor and student."
He stepped into the Class One lecture hall with the grace of a seasoned noble but none of the arrogance one might expect from a veteran captain. His tone was calm. His manners are impeccable.
As he introduced himself, his eyes scanned the room.
Most students were nobility.
Only a rare few—like Tōsen Kaname and Kusaka Shūsuke—had come from Rukongai.
Finally, his gaze fell on the two sitting in the back row: Lan Yan and Aizen.
"Now then, when I call your name, please come with me."
"We'll be heading out to receive your Asauchi."
"These blank Zanpakutō will form the foundation of your true Zanpakutō, so treat this seriously."
He raised a scroll and began reading aloud:
"Lan Yan Sōsuke."
"Aizen Sōsuke."
"Tōsen Kaname."
"Komamura Sajin."
…
As the names were called, all of the students from Rukongai stepped forward.
"Just as I thought," Lan Yan noted silently.
"Only nobles receive Asauchi as children. It's standard for them."
"What a rotten, shortsighted system," Aizen murmured under his breath.
"If they'd just make Asauchi public, Soul Society could easily triple the number of active Shinigami."
"Ukitake," said Shihouin Yoruichi, rising to her feet with a grin. "Can we tag along?"
Sitting around doing nothing in class bored her to death—she'd rather watch the fun.
"Of course."
"Any student who's curious may come as well," Ukitake said with a nod. "And Yoruichi, please—call me sensei, or Professor Ukitake at least."
"Got it, Ukitake." She flashed a thumbs-up.
Ukitake could only shake his head.
But, of course, he didn't press the matter.
Yoruichi wasn't just any student—she was heir to one of the four great noble clans and a prodigy strong enough to leap directly into Squad Two as a third seat or even vice-captain.
With her talent, she'd likely achieve Bankai within a few years and take over as captain.
His equal.
So, really, she wasn't here to learn. She was here to add Shinō Academy's name to her resume before officially inheriting Squad Two.
Led by Ukitake, the group soon arrived at a solemn, old building protected—perhaps sealed—by layers of Kidō.
"Open."
Ukitake pressed one hand to the barrier.
A flash of spiritual pressure—eighteen carriages, by rough measure—flared briefly, then vanished like a shooting star.
Even Tōsen, Komamura, and Urahara were visibly moved by the momentary display.
Only Lan Yan and Aizen remained expressionless.
Eighteen carriages might be impressive, but it didn't shake them.
"Captain Ukitake."
The two Shinigami stationed inside bowed respectfully as the doors opened.
"No need for ceremony. I'm just here to help them collect their Asauchi."
Ukitake handed over the name list with a warm smile.
The guards scanned it, then brought over several blank Zanpakutō—Asauchi, the soul-less blades given to students.
"These blades are all identical," Ukitake said. "There's no difference in quality."
"Once you receive one, you'll pour your spirit, beliefs, and spiritual pressure into it. That bond will form your unique Zanpakutō."
"It will accompany you through sleep and battle, joy and sorrow."
"Choose freely."
He made no assignments. The students were free to select.
Tōsen, Komamura, and Kusaka stepped forward at once, eyes gleaming with excitement. For them, this marked the true beginning of their journey as Soul Reapers.
But not everyone moved.
Lan Yan and Aizen stood still.
"…Brother," Aizen whispered, eyes scanning the rack of Asauchi. "I heard a voice just now."
"It was… disdainful."
"It didn't want me to take one of these."
His eyes flashed behind his glasses.
As one of the most brilliant minds in Soul Society, Aizen understood instantly—just from that voice.
The blades might seem ordinary.
But something about them didn't sit right.
It's not dangerous, per se—but not clean either.
"A voice?" Lan Yan murmured.
"To form your Zanpakutō without even receiving an Asauchi…"
"Of course. Typical 'Flex King.'"
He wasn't surprised.
Even Hitsugaya Tōshirō had heard Hyorinmaru's voice before ever entering the Academy.
It made sense that someone capable of mopping the floor with Tōshirō would awaken his Zanpakutō even earlier.
In fact, the pattern was clear:
Any Shinigami with peak-tier talent and wielding a named, legendary Zanpakutō—none of them needed an Asauchi.
Hitsugaya.
Aizen.
And eventually, Ichigo Kurosaki.
The same applied to Squad Zero before Nimaiya Ōetsu ever invented Asauchi—and to the ancestors of the four noble clans.
—After learning that Aizen could hear his Zanpakutō's voice,
—your Zanpakutō refused to be outdone.
—It has come to you of its own accord.
Lan Yan blinked as the system's voice rang in his ears.
A surge of power rolled through his body.
Spiritual pressure surged like a river bursting its banks, flowing down his arm.
Something was rising from the deepest part of his soul—
Something ancient.
Something his.