Bleach: The Fifth Division Captain

"This is the First Bone."

"This is the Second Bone…"

As Yamamoto's fist, the size of a boulder, barreled toward his chest with unstoppable force, Seiya Arima couldn't help but scream.

"Aaaahhh!!"

The shout echoed through the dojo—

Then, suddenly—

Seiya snapped awake.

With a start, he sat upright from the floor, his head still a little dizzy.

Blinking in confusion, he glanced around the quiet dojo, noticing the thin blanket draped over his shoulders.

The familiar scent of polished tatami mats filled his senses.

Yet, Yamamoto was nowhere to be seen.

"You've awakened."

A deep, unfamiliar voice came from behind.

Turning his head, Seiya saw a serious-looking man sitting nearby.

Their eyes met.

The man's hair was mostly white, slicked back in a neat style, but a section on his right remained jet black.

He carried himself with a quiet dignity, exuding the calm authority of a seasoned soldier.

The man's lips moved slightly before he offered a gentle smile.

"My name is Okiba Genjirō. I serve as the Third Seat of the First Division."

What an unexpected introduction.

The way he calmly offered his name without asking any questions gave off a strong, old-fashioned vibe.

Okiba Genjirō…

The name finally clicked in Seiya's mind.

He remembered now.

Genjirō was another long-serving officer who had stood by Yamamoto's side for centuries, second only to Chōjirō Sasakibe in seniority.

In the Thousand-Year Blood War arc, Genjirō even became the Vice-Captain of the First Division.

Realizing the man's importance, Seiya quickly stood up and gave a polite bow.

"Ah, no… the pleasure is mine. I'm Seiya Arima, a second-year student from the Shin'ō Spirit Arts Academy."

Genjirō's eyes narrowed slightly, his lips curling into a small smile.

"As expected… You've lived up to your reputation."

"Huh?"

Seiya blinked in confusion.

Seeing his puzzled expression, Genjirō chuckled lightly.

"To take Yamamoto-dono's First Bone head-on… That's no small feat, Arima-kun.

Even Kyōraku Shunsui and Ukitake Jūshirō couldn't achieve that back in their student days."

Wait… seriously?

Even with Genjirō's praise, Seiya didn't feel the least bit proud.

After all…

His arm was still broken.

Looking down, he grimaced at his left forearm, which was twisted into a grotesque shape, swollen and bruised a dark purple-red.

"So, Yamamoto didn't kill me outright, huh?"

According to Genjirō, Seiya had been unconscious for about ten minutes.

By the time he came to, Yamamoto had already left the dojo.

"That old man ran off after beating me up?!"

Seiya couldn't help but curse silently.

"There's no need to worry about your injuries."

Genjirō's calm voice interrupted Seiya's thoughts.

"Medical personnel will attend to you shortly. For now, please follow me."

Though his arm throbbed with pain, Seiya bit back any complaints.

After all, Genjirō wasn't wrong—

Yamamoto hadn't intended to kill him.

If anything, the old man's restraint had allowed him to walk away with just a broken arm.

Besides, Seiya realized he'd gained something valuable from the experience.

[You have fought Yamamoto Genryūsai. Your comprehension of Hakuda has deepened. Hakuda +5.]

There it is.

Seeing the notification, Seiya finally breathed a sigh of relief.

Getting 5 attribute points in exchange for taking one punch?

That was a pretty good deal.

However…

This also confirmed his theory.

"It really is a soft cap at 60…"

No matter how hard he trained, none of his attributes had risen past 60.

Even Yamamoto's bone-shattering punch had only pushed his Hakuda up by 5 points.

That meant something was blocking his progress.

Seiya glanced at his status screen again:

Slash: 60

Fist: 60

Speed: 60

Kidō: 49

"Looks like I need a breakthrough."

It wasn't a matter of grinding anymore.

He needed some kind of awakening to push past the soft cap.

"What are you thinking about?"

Genjirō's voice snapped him back to reality.

Seiya quickly shook his head.

"Ah, sorry. Just lost in thought."

"No need to apologize. This way, please."

Following Genjirō through the winding halls of the First Division, Seiya eventually arrived at the medical wing.

The healers wasted no time in mending his broken arm.

With their advanced Kaidō techniques, his bones were reset, and the swelling reduced to faint bruises.

"Thank you very much."

Seiya flexed his arm, impressed by the speed of his recovery.

"Come. I'll take you to the mess hall."

After a short walk, Genjirō led Seiya to the First Division's dining hall.

The atmosphere was surprisingly modest—

It resembled an old-fashioned worker's canteen from the Shōwa era.

Wooden tables and chairs, spinning ceiling fans, and the smell of freshly cooked food wafting through the air.

"Everything here is self-serve."

Genjirō handed Seiya a wooden tray.

"The First Division prioritizes food quality. Just remember Yamamoto-dono's rule: Don't waste food."

"Oh, it's free?"

Seiya's eyes lit up with excitement.

He wasted no time loading his tray with all sorts of dishes—

Tamagoyaki, miso tofu, grilled mackerel, and beef curry.

After piling on a huge bowl of rice, Seiya was ready to leave…

Until a voice called from the kitchen:

"Fresh eel! Come get it while it's hot!"

Seiya's head snapped around.

"…Did someone say eel?"

Genjirō chuckled softly.

"Go ahead. Just don't waste any."

After another round in line, Seiya returned with three glistening filets of grilled eel.

The sweet soy glaze shimmered under the lights, the aroma making his mouth water.

"Getting punched was totally worth it!"

Following Genjirō, Seiya soon found himself in a quiet corner of the mess hall.

There, seated alone at a table, was none other than Yamamoto Genryūsai.

The old man sat in an unassuming corner, quietly eating his meal.

"Yamamoto-dono, I've brought him."

Genjirō gave a respectful bow.

Without turning his head, Yamamoto acknowledged them with a calm:

"You've done well, Genjirō."

Seiya tried to keep his nerves in check as Yamamoto's gaze finally turned to him.

Though still feeling somewhat anxious, he mustered the courage to greet him.

"Uh… Captain-Commander—"

"Just call me Yamamoto."

Surprised by the informal tone, Seiya hesitated.

Seeing his discomfort, Genjirō nudged him gently.

"Sit down, Arima-kun."

Reluctantly, Seiya took a seat across from Yamamoto.

"Does your arm still hurt?"

"It's much better now!" Seiya quickly replied.

Yamamoto gave a small nod, stirring his miso soup with his chopsticks.

"Your Hakuda skills are rough… but promising.

Far better than the lazy brats I once taught."

He took a sip of his soup before adding:

"Most Shinigami neglect their bodies after obtaining a Zanpakutō.

It's a shame…"

After a brief pause, Yamamoto fixed Seiya with a steady gaze.

"Arima Seiya."

"Yes?"

"Stay in the First Division a little longer."

Seiya blinked in surprise.

"Wait… are you saying you'll personally train me?"

Yamamoto's flat stare said it all.

"…Oops. Thank you!"

From across the table, Genjirō chuckled quietly.

"You'd better take this seriously, Arima-kun.

Yamamoto doesn't offer his guidance lightly."

And with that, Seiya couldn't help but think:

Looks like my stay in the First Division just got a lot more… intense.

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Powerstones?

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