Bleach: The Fifth Division Captain

Reiatsu is a measure of spiritual power, ranked from the 20th level upward. Each level marks a significant difference in strength.

Most ordinary soldiers hover around the 20th level. Reaching the rank of Seated Officer requires breaking into the top ten levels.

For Vice-Captains, their levels typically fall between the 5th and 4th tiers.

Captains occupy levels 3 and above.

Though this categorization is blunt and generalized, it serves as a useful framework for dividing and understanding combat capabilities.

Strong individuals grow stronger over time, their power accumulating until they ascend to the next stage.

Weaker individuals, while lagging behind, still have opportunities to catch up, striving to scale the heights and see landscapes few can reach.

For Ōmaeda Marechiyo, a Vice-Captain classified as Level 5, this was an admission:

"Among Vice-Captains, I don't rank very high."

Though it sounded humble, the implied weight of his words was undeniable.

If someone as troublesome as him isn't even at the top, how many others are more dangerous?

Defeating one only means another stronger one awaits. Does this road of training ever truly end?

Seiya smiled brightly at the thought, his expression brimming with unshakable determination.

"Well, doesn't that just make it all the more exciting?"

He clenched his fists tightly, drawing a deep, steadying breath.

It's common knowledge that reiatsu reflects the density of one's soul.

A strong soul wields immense power that leaves others in awe. For Seiya, however, this power stems from something unique—the four foundational skills that form the bedrock of his abilities:

[Zanjutsu: 40 | Hakuda: 25 | Hohō: 12 | Kidō: 15]

Compared to earlier days, his half-month of rigorous training had not only refined his swordsmanship but also expanded his proficiency in hand-to-hand combat.

Supplemental lessons from Nanao Ise and Isane Kotetsu had further boosted his aptitude for Kidō, elevating it to a respectable 15 points.

Now, by fusing these attributes, and applying what Aizen had once advised—

Use the urgency of life-and-death as a trigger.

Like a fuse to dynamite, Seiya sparked his inner potential and unleashed it in full.

This was no mere sparring match. This was survival.

A booming explosion of reiatsu engulfed the arena.

The dazzling blue torrent coiled around Seiya, radiating a dark, intense brilliance. The distortions it caused in the air blurred his outline, making him appear ethereal and untouchable.

The wind whipped wildly, snapping his hair tie. His once-neatly bound ponytail unraveled, his long hair now a chaotic mane.

His reiatsu surged uncontrollably.

Unlike the controlled techniques taught in the academy, Seiya's release was raw, instinctual—born of his survival instincts. It possessed an unrestrained intensity and a magnetism that demanded attention.

His spiritual pressure climbed rapidly:

Level 20... Level 15... Level 9... Level 7!

Finally, it stabilized, no longer overwhelming but still commanding.

The onlookers were struck silent by the sight of this first-year student exuding such overwhelming power.

Tōsen Kaname leaped to his feet, his expression unreadable.

Nanao Ise stood frozen, her mouth agape in disbelief.

Isane Kotetsu stared, dumbstruck, at the dazzling figure on the platform.

This bold, unrestrained back—was it still the same person she remembered?

"Ha!"

Yoruichi broke the silence with an excited shout, her face alight with glee.

"As I thought! This kid was holding back before... Hey, Aizen! Did you teach him this? He's not bad!"

She jabbed an elbow playfully into Aizen's side. He didn't dodge, though his rare, stunned expression suggested he might've been caught off guard.

He stared at Seiya, his usually sharp eyes clouded with unspoken thoughts.

Seiya was undeniably his student, but this rapid growth far exceeded his expectations.

Hidden behind his glasses, Aizen's thoughts remained a mystery.

On the platform, Ōmaeda Marechiyo's astonishment was evident.

"Seiya Arima, you—"

His words were cut off, his thoughts muddled.

But Seiya wasn't interested in listening.

Before Ōmaeda could complete his sentence, Seiya's figure blurred—he had already moved.

With a sharp burst of speed, he closed the distance, darting into Ōmaeda's blind spot.

Ōmaeda's guard was down—his focus had been too drawn to the impressive reiatsu to anticipate such a bold maneuver.

Even Yoruichi raised a brow at the tactical blunder.

"Seriously, Ōmaeda? You let him get that close?"

While she almost intervened, she stopped herself, shaking her head in amusement.

"Guess he'll have to learn the hard way... No excuses, even for a Vice-Captain!"

Seiya wasn't one to gloat over an opening.

With 12 points in Hohō (speed), he wasn't just fast for a student—he could hold his own among many Seated Officers.

"Guess all that focus on my reiatsu made you forget about the rest, huh?"

Though Seiya could empathize, this was a fatal oversight for someone of Ōmaeda's rank.

Inhaling sharply, Seiya centered himself. His steps shifted, grounding his movements.

Impact.

He drove his right foot down, the force of his step cracking the platform beneath them.

Seiya's fist followed—compressed power packed into a direct, devastating strike to Ōmaeda's chest.

"The Hundred Techniques, This Is One: Single Strike."

Boom!!!

The blow reverberated through the arena. Ōmaeda staggered back, his eyes bulging from the force of impact.

Though winded, he hadn't fallen.

He skidded backward, his feet grinding against the floor, tearing his tabi socks in the process. Steam rose faintly from his chest as he struggled to catch his breath.

Though shaken, he managed a wry grin.

"I held my ground... barely."

But Yoruichi's sharp voice cut through his thoughts like a knife:

"Ōmaeda, what the hell are you doing?!"

Her sudden rebuke froze Ōmaeda in his tracks.

It took him a moment, but realization dawned, his expression twisting into one of horror.

I made a mistake.

Before he could recover, Seiya closed the distance again, his figure blazing forward with unrelenting intensity.

He moved like a predator, his glowing reiatsu swirling around him. His grin was wide, unrestrained, as if reveling in the sheer thrill of the fight.

"Did you think you blocked that?"

"Of course! I—"

"You didn't."

Seiya's smile turned sharper.

"Because I wasn't even using my full strength."

The earlier blow had been a feint—this was the real attack.

"The Hundred Techniques, This Is Two: Double Strike."

Power surged through Seiya as he stepped in close. His fists clenched tightly, both arms moving in perfect synchronization.

Twin fists struck Ōmaeda's chest with unimaginable force.