Bleach: The Template System Chose Me, The Forgotten Kuchiki

Xing Jun, the elite unit of the 2nd Division's Stealth Corps, known for their unparalleled mastery of Hakuda and Shunpo, operated with seamless precision and killing intent. As the battle commenced, twenty operatives moved without hesitation. Six launched a converging assault from six directions, executing a rapid pincer to deny Shiraha even the smallest window to utilize Shunpo, while the remaining fourteen immediately applied pressure to corner him, forcing him to rely solely on Hakuda.

On the high platform, Ichimaru Gin rested his chin on his hand, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "So then, Shiraha-kun... how will you respond?"

The strategy was deliberate. If measured purely in Hakuda and mobility, the synchronization of twenty Xing Jun operatives could overwhelm even a vice-captain. But Shiraha only narrowed his eyes, having already perceived the intent behind their formation with refined Observation Haki. He shifted his stance slightly, and with a subtle shake of his head, murmured, "This tactic won't work on me."

Though they barred his Shunpo and forced close-range combat, Shiraha had no intention of retreating. These operatives were swift, and their attacks ruthlessly targeted his vital points—throat, sternum, carotid artery, diaphragm—all aiming to incapacitate.

The six who struck first felt it immediately.

"Bang!"

Their fists, driven by expert technique and augmented strength, collided not with flesh—but with armor as hard as forged steel. The sounds reverberated like striking a reinforced barrier, and Shiraha didn't flinch. Their coordinated blows landed clean, but he stood unshaken.

He had already encased his entire body in Armament Haki the moment they moved. The spiritual iron of his skin, invisible yet absolute, rendered the most lethal points of impact inert.

As the six Xing Jun operatives attempted to retreat, Shiraha countered. He moved within their range—no wasted motion—fists and legs snapping out like twin crescents of disciplined power. Each blow was delivered with precision, and his limbs, wrapped in pitch-black Armament Haki, carried force rivaling a sharpened Zanpakutō. His Haki was no longer at the basic stage; it had long since reached Advanced level—his strikes now possessed devastating, armor-piercing impact.

One operative was struck in the chest, another caught mid-air with a spinning elbow, and a third fell from a roundhouse kick that buckled armor and cracked ribs. In just two seconds, all six were blown back, their bodies flung tens of meters away. Each bore deep fist or palm imprints across their torsos, sunken from the sheer force, and all collapsed unconscious before even hitting the ground.

Had Shiraha not restrained the flow of his strength at the moment of contact, each of them would've perished outright.

The six-man encirclement shattered instantly.

Ichimaru Gin's smile grew as he watched the display. "Not just skilled in Hakuda," he murmured. "But his body's built for war…"

He recalled the skirmish they once shared at the Kuchiki family estate. Back then, Shiraha had blocked Gin's Zanpakutō with his bare hands, already showing signs of unnatural durability. But now, there was something different. Gin could feel it—his strength had evolved. The difference between then and now wasn't marginal; it was frightening.

Despite the blow dealt to their numbers, the remaining twelve Xing Jun operatives showed no hesitation. Trained for high-risk subjugation, their emotions were suppressed, and their formation tightened instantly. With no signal exchanged, they launched a simultaneous, storm-like attack from multiple vectors, adapting their encirclement with almost inhuman speed.

But just as their formation locked into place—Shiraha vanished.

"Shunpo...?"

All twelve froze in momentary alarm, shifting to a back-to-back defensive ring, eyes sweeping the field.

He flickered again.

Then again.

Every time Shiraha reappeared, it was behind one of them, his movements too fast for the eye to trace, and his strikes landed with merciless finality. Fists sheathed in Armament Haki landed directly on sternums, shoulders, and spines, each hit clean, clinical, and explosive.

"Boom! Boom! Boom!"

With every reappearance, a soldier fell, crumpling to the ground unconscious. Not one could react in time.

They were elite, yes—but not on Shiraha's level.

Ten seconds.

That's all it took for all twenty members of Xing Jun to lie scattered across the battlefield, each one incapacitated, breathing but broken.

Shiraha exhaled slowly and lowered his fists, the steel haze of Haki fading from his arms. With calm eyes, he turned toward the viewing platform and waited.

"Astonishing," one of the elders to the right finally murmured, voice laden with awe. "To defeat a full Xing Jun squad using only Hakuda and Shunpo—his level's already comparable to a captain's."

"Indeed," the elder to the left nodded gravely. "Not only are his White Hits technique and footwork flawless, but his sheer physical resilience may even rival Captain Zaraki's."

They had witnessed the Xing Jun strikes land directly on Shiraha with full force, and none had left a mark. That level of durability, paired with his offensive capability, was terrifying.

"The first trial is complete," Chōjirō Sasakibe declared, rising to his feet. "Kuchiki Shiraha—pass."

He had seen many exceptional fighters over the centuries, but even he was taken aback by how decisively Shiraha handled the challenge. Sasakibe could defeat the Xing Jun too—but never with such efficiency or ease.

As the announcement echoed, Fourth Division medics entered the field, swiftly tending to the unconscious operatives and removing them for treatment. The entire squad had been neutralized without any lasting injury—thanks solely to Shiraha's precision and restraint.

"Well done, Shiraha-kun," Ichimaru Gin called out with a bright smile. "I knew they wouldn't give you any real trouble."

"Captain Ichimaru flatters me," Shiraha replied calmly. "It was just controlled sparring."

"Ah, so modest," Gin replied, lips curling faintly.

A soft cough interrupted the exchange. One of the elders leaned forward and cleared his throat. "Then let us proceed to the next stage. The second trial: Kidō."

He turned to Shiraha. "When the examiner calls out a Kidō spell, you must cast it immediately and correctly to pass."

"Captain Ichimaru," the elder continued, inclining his head, "as one of the examiners, please announce the first Kidō."

"Hmm…" Gin tilted his head thoughtfully. "So many choices."

He tapped his lip, then smiled wider, his voice light but sharp. "Say, Shiraha-kun... I heard you used Bakudō #81—Danku, Splitting Void—during your soul burial internship. How about casting that one for us now?"

The entire platform froze.

Even the stoic Sasakibe raised a brow.

Bakudō #81—Danku—was a high-level defensive Kidō that only captains and Kidō Corps elites could execute properly. For a student to perform it, let alone within one month of enrollment, bordered on the absurd.

One elder's face darkened. "Captain Ichimaru, are you trying to make things difficult? To expect a newly enrolled student to cast a Kidō of that magnitude—"

"Now, now," Gin replied innocently, spreading his hands. "I was simply told to call out any spell. This one just happened to come to mind. Besides… I'm curious too. Didn't we agree this trial was meant to test the limits of Shiraha-kun's capabilities?"

The suspicion in the elder's eyes didn't fade. "Even among the captains, few can cast Kidō above the eightieth rank on command. And you want a student—barely one month into formal training—to do it?"

Gin's smile didn't waver. "Exactly why I want to see it."

His tone remained cheerful, but his eyes—narrowed into smiling slits—did not match the rest of his face.

Was this a grudge?

A provocation?

Or something else?

Regardless, the challenge had been issued.

And the entire arena now waited to see how Shiraha would respond.