What was his final rating?"
"A person with an SSS score is already considered a once-in-a-century genius!"
"But him? Could he be a once-in-a-millennium talent?"
Even while still pinned to the ground by the overwhelming spiritual pressure, most of the candidates didn't feel anger—only growing curiosity.
Everyone desperately wanted to know: What kind of evaluation could someone like Akira receive? A boy whose Reiatsu not only crushed nearly every person present but outright shattered the detection orb?
"Your name is Lan Yan, correct?" Captain Jūshirō Ukitake finally spoke again, recovering his calm.
"Your Reiatsu is at captain-class level."
"Your official rating: SSSS-level."
The crowd erupted into gasps and shock, but Ukitake remained composed, his expression a mixture of awe and thoughtful concern. He looked directly at Lan Yan—this unprecedented talent of the Shin'ō Academy. His voice rang clear across the stunned courtyard:
"A level never before recorded in the two-thousand-year history of the Academy."
"SSSS-level?!"
"That rating doesn't even exist on official records!"
"The Academy has never ranked anyone above SSS—how is this even possible?"
"But now that I think about it," murmured another proctor, "Lan Yan's spiritual pressure… it wasn't just at captain-class. It surpassed many seated captains."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd. The very foundations of the evaluation system were being questioned. In Soul Society, power meant everything—and this level of power from someone of unknown bloodline? That was unheard of.
"How could someone from Rukongai, from the North 80th District, of all places, have such Reiatsu?"
"Not even members of the Four Great Noble Houses have ever produced someone like this."
"This is impossible…"
Shihōin Yoruichi, Byakuya Kuchiki, and Urahara Kisuke were left speechless, their expressions unusually serious. Even among the elite, such raw power was rare. Now it stood before them… not as a noble heir, but as a commoner with unshakable presence.
Of course, Aizen stood nearby as well. His earlier performance had already shaken many. But now, beside the brilliance radiating from Lan Yan, Aizen's light seemed eclipsed—though that never appeared to bother him.
"You two, your admission procedures are now complete," said a flustered yet respectful examiner. "I'll escort you to your dormitories. The Academy will assign each of you an upperclassman guide to help you familiarize yourselves with campus life."
The examiner led them ahead, like a steward serving his liege.
As they strolled through the quiet courtyards of the Academy, Akira broke the silence.
"You did that on purpose," he said, voice calm.
Aizen smiled without hesitation. "Yes."
Akira raised an eyebrow. "I thought you'd keep a low profile—lie in wait, then shock the world at the perfect moment."
"I had considered that." Aizen's gaze didn't waver. "But the system is here to serve me, not the other way around."
"Compared to understanding you, changing my approach was a minor matter. As for stunning others—there's no need to time it. That's something I do naturally."
Their eyes met.
"You could've just asked to measure my power," Akira said, casually.
"I would've told you everything."
Aizen shrugged slightly. "But seeing it with my own eyes tells me far more than words ever could."
"You and I, we both prefer truth revealed through confrontation, don't we?"
Aizen still wore that pleasant smile, but beneath it, the familiar arrogance gleamed. He was a genius—not just in combat, but in intellect, tactics, and spiritual theory. The kind of mind that, given the right resources, could eventually surpass even the Soul King himself.
He may have looked like a refined, kind youth—but inside, his pride was absolute.
He was a being of ambition, calculation, and a fierce need to know everything.
"It's true that seeing it firsthand is more honest," Akira said, knowing full well the nature of his younger brother.
"To keep up with you…" Aizen continued, "or even surpass you—that's what drives me."
This was the way they had always interacted.
Not simply as brothers.
But as rivals. As foils. Each the other's mirror and shadow.
[You have felt Aizen's challenge. The intensity of his will has pushed your mastery of swordsmanship to new heights. You've unlocked: Sword Pressure – Intermediate.]
Lan Yan's lips curled ever so slightly.
"You haven't changed—still arrogant and proud."
"But fine. If that's how you want it, I won't slack off either."
"Just remember…" he said, voice lower now, eyes sharper.
"Even if you see through me—what you saw was only the me of that moment. Not the one standing in front of you now."
Aizen's smile never wavered, but a glint of curiosity flickered in his eyes.
Akira had more layers than even he had expected.
"So… have you finally grown up?" Akira asked, half-mocking, half-genuine.
What you are now… has already surpassed who you were just a moment ago."
"But then—why can't I say the same about myself, brother?!"
Aizen's expression shifted subtly—his lips curled into a soft smile. A rare, sincere smile.
To have a brother like this… it's a blessing.
In the original timeline, Aizen was born a genius, one of the rarest prodigies in Soul Society's history. But because no one ever stood on equal footing with him, he was plagued by a deep and unshakable loneliness. He had sought, longed—even yearned—for someone who could walk beside him, someone worthy of being called an equal.
But no matter how far he searched, no one ever reached him.
There was a time, hidden in the most private recesses of his soul, when he wished he had simply been an ordinary Shinigami—just so he could feel normal, belong, and not exist in perpetual isolation.
It was precisely this hidden desire that later led to his internal crisis.
When Kurosaki Ichigo, whom he had indirectly shaped through manipulation and experimentation, cast aside his Bankai and used Mugetsu—a technique of such finality that it surpassed even Aizen's limits—he felt something unexpected.
Relief.
He let himself be defeated.
Because he feared that if he evolved again, transcended further into a higher dimension of existence, no one—not even Ichigo—would be able to follow him. And he would return to absolute solitude, looking down from an unreachable height.
But now… things were different.
With Lan Yan, that gnawing void was no more.
His brother wasn't just family. He was a rival, a mirror, a fellow genius who had even taken steps ahead of him.
That knowledge filled Aizen with a deep, serene satisfaction. For once, he didn't need to chase emptiness—he could chase someone real.
The story of two unparalleled geniuses from Rukongai spread like wildfire across Seireitei.
One, unseen in 2000 years.
The other, a once-in-a-century prodigy.
From the Gotei 13 to the Central 46 Chambers, from the noble clans to the outer districts—everyone was talking about Akira and Aizen. Their names had already become legend before they had even unsheathed a Zanpakutō in battle.
Among those who received the news promptly was Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto, Commander of the Gotei 13 and the founder of the Shin'ō Spiritual Arts Academy.
Captain Jūshirō Ukitake, having witnessed the Reiatsu explosion and evaluated the unprecedented "SSSS" ranking himself, personally reported the situation.
"Lan Yan… and Aizen…" Yamamoto muttered, his ancient voice heavy with thought. "When I established the Academy, I believed that producing a student like you or Kyōraku Shunsui once every few generations would be a gift from the heavens."
"I never imagined that two freshmen of such extraordinary talent would appear simultaneously."
His sharp, aged eyes narrowed as he recalled a time long ago—when he first noticed the wild, untamed talents of Ukitake and Kyōraku. This was the same.
"Exactly the same dynamic," he mused aloud. "You and Kyōraku… now mirrored in these two."
It was rare—extremely rare—for Yamamoto's stone-cold heart to waver. But this time, it did.
A genius like Aizen, he expected. But Lan Yan?
A commoner from North Rukongai's 80th District, who had never undergone formal Shinigami training, who shattered a Reiatsu evaluation orb just by instinctively channeling his raw spiritual pressure?
That was unprecedented.
By his Reiatsu alone, Akira had already matched—or even surpassed—the level of Muguruma Kensei, a known prodigy from the Gotei 13.
And that was before acquiring a Zanpakutō, or mastering Kidō, Hakuda, or Hohō.
A monster in the making.
"Teacher Yamamoto," Jūshirō Ukitake said quietly, smiling despite the lingering strain from his chronic illness, "I daresay I'm not inferior to those two brothers."
"Hmph." Yamamoto gave a rare snort that bordered on amusement. "There's no need for false humility. You and Kyōraku's abilities—I know them better than anyone."
"But these two…"
"They're like twin blades of raw potential. Rough stones yet to be polished—but their gleam is already blinding."
There was a pause.
A tension in the air.
And then, Ukitake's eyes widened slightly.
"Teacher… you're thinking of accepting Akira as your direct disciple, aren't you?"
He knew his master too well. That slight shift in tone—that flicker in Yamamoto's voice—it was the same as when he had scouted Kyōraku.
Yamamoto didn't answer immediately. His silence said more than words.
But in his heart, the fire of interest had been lit.
A flame he hadn't felt in over a century.