Bleach: The Strongest Shinigami

"Do you have faith?"

"No... no..."

"Excellent, now you do! The One-Eyed Great God Mimihagi will protect those who dedicate everything except their own 'eyes' to him..."

The middle-aged man trembled before the muscular man, his legs shaking and lips quivering as if struck by lightning.

"I... I don't..."

"Hm?!" The muscular man's fierce glare intensified, his bulging muscles straining against his Shinigami uniform as he seized the man's collar.

Their foreheads touched, and those bloodshot, bull-like eyes blazed with such menace that he seemed ready to devour his prey whole.

"I believe, I believe! Isn't that enough?" The middle-aged man nearly wept, his legs trembling violently as he feared the Shinigami might actually bite him.

Watching this scene, Gosuke covered his face and tilted his head back, fighting to contain his tears.

Even from ten meters away, he felt the man's suffocating despair. Anyone confronted by such a creature would be equally terrified.

That the middle-aged man hadn't lost control of his bodily functions showed remarkable fortitude.

The 11th Division's reputation was fearsome enough — with this future Captain, Gosuke dreaded what lay ahead.

Once the middle-aged man agreed to believe, the muscular man set him down gently, even straightening his collar and smoothing his clothes.

"It's free anyway, might as well believe a little. The great Lord Mimihagi will bless you."

The sudden shift in demeanor left the middle-aged man bewildered.

Was this hulking figure really just promoting a shrine rather than terrorizing people?!

Strangely, he found himself curious about this One-Eyed God Mimihagi. Any deity who could inspire such dramatic changes in the infamous 11th Division Shinigami must be remarkable.

The pitch was oddly compelling. Since no money was involved, what harm could believing do? He'd gotten off lightly compared to others.

The middle-aged man gazed sympathetically at similar scenes unfolding across the 1st District of North Rukongai.

"Hey, kid! Yes, you! Come believe in the One-Eyed God!"

"Hey hey, you wandering scum, get over here and worship Lord Mimihagi!"

"Don't try to run away, you fool, Lord Mimihagi is watching your every move from above..."

A gang of brutes was manageable, but led by someone even more savage, they became truly frightening. Their invasion of the 1st District took an unexpected turn.

Recruiting believers, forced worship, preaching their deity...

Remarkably, these bizarre tactics sparked genuine interest in the Sakahone Shrine, drawing inquiries even from lower-ranking nobles.

Gosuke stared numbly at the increasingly bizarre procession, his eyes lifeless as he turned to his shrine lord.

"Lord Magistrate, such forceful promotion will only yield bitter fruits..."

Akira smiled, "No matter. Bitter fruits are still fruits — they may not be sweet, but they quench thirst. Once they see the benefits, they'll know I spoke truth."

Gosuke eyed the youth skeptically, unable to comprehend his unwavering confidence.

Could deities truly exist? Weren't they supposed to be mere abstract concepts?

Naturally, word of these events soon reached the 1st Division.

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1st Division Barracks.

"Outrageous!"

Veins bulged on his shiny forehead as Genryūsai, usually squinting, now opened his eyes wide with rage, fierce flames burning in his pupils.

"What do you think you've been doing?! Spreading faith..."

Looking at the serious young man before him, the old man took a deep breath, his centuries of self-cultivation crumbling in an instant.

"It was one thing to spread propaganda at the Spirit Arts Academy — I could dismiss that as student mischief. But now you've gone too far, wearing promotional haori over your Shinigami uniform and leading two hundred people into the Rukongai! Those in the know might see it as mere promotion, but others could think you're preparing to rebel and overthrow the Seireitei!"

"Why don't you just attack the First Division and kill me to become Captain-Commander while you're at it!"

Completely overwhelmed by the pressure, Akira didn't dare make a sound.

Only now did he realize that while a healthy Jūshirō might be formidable, an enraged Genryūsai was truly invincible in the current meta.

Somehow, after his scolding, the old man's fury didn't subside but grew even stronger, as if his entire being might erupt into flames.

Not good — he need to find an excuse to beat this kid!

Having made up his mind, Genryūsai squinted his eyes, struggling to recall Akira's recent misdeeds.

No luck. Unable to think of anything, he decided to try a different approach.

"For today's training, I'll explain the principles of the Genryū Style again. Only by fully mastering its key points can one become a true master in control of oneself."

Akira tilted his head, wondering what the old man was going on about.

Hadn't he tried this before? This stuff was like a powerful sleeping pill — he'd be out cold in less than three minutes...

Wait!

His eyes suddenly widened as he realized what this bald eagle was planning.

Bad! This old man wants to beat someone up!

By the time he realized it, Genryūsai had already launched into his lecture about the meaning of protection.

Akira's eyelids instinctively began to fight each other, repeatedly colliding as his head started swaying drowsily!

The hardest battle ever fought before!

"…zzz…"

"You insolent fool! Not only are you reckless, but you dare show such disrespect for the principles of Genryū! Today, I'll teach you properly what protection means!"

With those words, Genryūsai removed his haori, seized the drowsy youth's neck with his callused hand, and dragged him straight to the training ground.

The old and young figures clashed in an instant.

This time, Genryūsai showed no restraint. His clenched fingers created thunderous explosions with each strike, his overwhelming spiritual pressure bearing down like the weight of heaven and earth, making the very air impossible to breathe.

Shock flashed in Akira's eyes, but before he could utter a word, he was driven into the ground, only his head remaining above the surface.

What followed was a merciless beating too brutal to witness. The gap in power was so immense that resistance proved meaningless.

In that moment, Akira truly understood how far he stood from genuine strength. Any budding pride within him was thoroughly crushed beneath this savage lesson.

Outside the training ground, Chōjirō (Sasakibe) watched the building crumble once again and sighed deeply.

Since Akira had joined the Genji School as his Captain's disciple, the 1st Division's monthly repair costs had skyrocketed. At this rate, they would soon face a budget crisis.

Something would have to be done about this...

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"Hurk!"

Akira sat slumped in the ruins, spitting out a mouthful of greenish blood, yet somehow feeling refreshed.

He felt like he could take even more punches.

Nearby, Genryūsai's anger had mostly subsided, his gaze carrying less killing intent.

Looking at this insolent student who had quickly recovered his vitality, his mouth twitched. In his thousands of years, he'd seen it all — but this scene was truly unprecedented.

Though he hadn't used his full power, his strikes had been vicious. Neither Shunsui nor Jūshirō had ever endured such a brutal beating.

Normally, attacks of this level would send an ordinary Shinigami to heaven with one punch; two punches would leave nothing behind.

Yet here was Akira, who after such a lengthy beating had merely spat out some bile before springing back to life like an unkillable cockroach.

This natural talent was simply ridiculous...

"Stop playing dead and come here!" Genryūsai called out.

Seeing the anger had faded from his face, Akira grinned and bounced over.

"What instructions do you have, teacher?"

Heh, better play nice with this old man for now. Once my wings are fully grown, I'll raise the banner of rebellion and usher in a new era!

Genryūsai responded absent-mindedly.

Though he wasn't sure exactly what this kid was plotting, that fawning expression alone told him nothing good was brewing.

Still, since the boy had already received a sound beating, he'd let it slide for now.

"Because of your earlier blunder, the rebel base was destroyed, and now the rebels have become more active. The frontline battlefield managed by Sixth Division is at a stalemate."

Hearing this, Akira's eyes lit up, "Are we sending the Eleventh Division for support?"

"No, this is a conflict between nobles. Don't get easily involved." Genryūsai shook his head, "You don't understand how deep these waters run. It's easy to sink into this quagmire with no chance of recovery. Never think that just because you have some power, you can navigate freely between noble factions. Their foundations are far more terrifying than you imagine."

"For example, Ukitake and Kyōraku are also nobles, and have been dragged into these conflicts multiple times. If not for their status as Genso Ryū disciples and Division Captains, they might have died in some 'accident' long ago."

Akira grew solemn, his expression immediately becoming more serious.

Others might not understand Shunsui and Jūshirō's strength, but he did. After witnessing the old man's performance, it was clear — with such a powerful master, how could his disciples be anything but formidable?

"What I want to say is." Genryūsai said gravely, "Stay extra vigilant during this time, and don't let your guard down. Though you haven't fully declared your stance yet, destroying that base has already made certain factions hold grudges against you. While direct combat might not be their forte, killing isn't limited to battlefield confrontations."

Akira nodded, taking the warning to heart.

Though Genryūsai was fierce, he truly gave his all for his people, wearing his heart on his sleeve.

"There's one more thing..."

Before he could finish, a black figure appeared in the training ground, respectfully kneeling on one knee.

From their masked appearance with only eyes visible, it was clear they belonged to the Riteitai (Information Force), Onmitsukidō's Fifth Division. They specialized in delivering messages and orders, proving faster and more reliable than Jigokuchō.

After all, not everyone could master Tenteikūra (Bakudō for communication). In the era before messaging devices became widespread, the Riteitai and Jigokuchō were the swiftest means of communication.

Noticing others present, the figure remained silent, awaiting instructions.

Genryūsai glanced at the confused Akira, then nodded in acknowledgment.

"Speak freely."

"Reporting to Captain-Commander, mysterious Reiatsu traces detected in West Rukongai, 38th District, awaiting new orders!"

"I understand. You may withdraw."

"Yes sir!"

The Riteitai member bowed their head before vanishing instantly from the ruined training ground.

"This mission is yours." Genryūsai turned to Akira, his tone serious, "First confirm their identity, then formulate appropriate countermeasures. Your primary objective is to stay alive. If you're outmatched, retreat immediately!"

Akira was surprised.

This didn't sound like the old man he knew. In his mind, Genryūsai had always been a stubborn conservative who would stop at nothing to achieve his so-called justice.

But since joining Genryū and becoming his disciple, he'd discovered the old man wasn't as inflexible as he'd imagined. On the contrary, he showed genuine consideration in his actions.

Time and again, Genryūsai proved he truly cared for his disciples' welfare.

Perhaps... People can change?

Coming to this realization, Akira grinned and nodded, "I'll definitely complete the mission!"

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West Rukongai, 38th District.

On the outskirts' plains beneath the dim sky, fierce winds swept across, flattening the wild grass to expose the dark soil beneath.

In the eerie stillness, dense cracks materialized three meters above ground, spreading like a spider's web across empty space.

As the fractures reached their limit, a muffled shatter echoed through the air. Countless transparent shards rained down, dissolving into the earth below.

Where the cracks had formed, a deep, silent darkness emerged — like a cold, indifferent eye gazing over the plain.

From within the void came distortions, followed by a blood-red beam that struck the ground with devastating force, carving out a crater several meters wide.

After a heavy silence, something massive stirred within the darkness. Cold winds rushed outward, whipping across the plain and tossing the grass into chaos.

Then it emerged — an enormous creature of nightmares. Its grotesque white bone mask and blood-red eyes struck terror into the very air as it greedily inhaled its first breath of Soul Society's atmosphere, savoring its newfound freedom.

And watching it all from a nearby knoll, a mysterious figure stood wrapped in thick Kidō light, observing in complete silence...

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