Bleach: Reborn — Chapter 151 - The Letter — Words Unspoken

“That kid...” Sui-Fēng, captain of the 2nd Division, narrowed her eyes at the battle below. It wasn’t regret over her subordinate’s granddaughter losing. It was the final sequence of Wayne’s attacks that had her attention.

That style was tailor-made for the Onmitsukidō. The blade hidden in the rubble. That last Shunpo ambush, a killing stroke.

“Reishi-forged blade. His Reiatsu control is exceptionally high. And that burst just now — in a single instant, his Reiatsu spiked to the level of the top ten Seated Officers. It lasted only a moment, but it sealed the match.” Retsu Unohana nodded, just slightly. “Mizusue has found a promising seedling.”

No question about it, Captain Unohana was staking her claim. The message was clear: this one’s mine. Hands off.

“A talent like that shouldn’t be buried. He should have the right to choose freely.” That came from the captain of the 6th Division, Ginrei Kuchiki.

As a member of the Four Great Noble Houses, Ginrei Kuchiki embodied noble pride in its purest form. He’d learned of this Rukongai-born student’s resentment toward the nobility during the Shin’ō Academy entrance exams, and it had left the old man with a strong distaste for Wayne. That he could speak such words now, after seeing Wayne fight, it spoke volumes about how far his respect had come.

His words drew a sneer from the captain of the 12th Division, Mayuri Kurotsuchi.

“A fine bird chooses its tree. I, for one, am quite curious to see which one he picks.”

“Captain Kurotsuchi seems rather interested in him?” Shunsui Kyōraku tipped his sedge hat lower.

“Ah. I can barely contain myself, I want to slice him open. Hahahahaha.” Mayuri let out a string of wet, rattling cackles. The truth was, outside of Mayuri and a few of his assistants, no one knew about the Hollow Reiatsu inside Wayne’s body. Mayuri had classified it as top secret, locked away in his private files. The report to the Gotei 13 listed all of Wayne’s indicators as perfectly normal. His reason for wanting Wayne was simple enough: if he could use Wayne’s blood and genetic material as a blueprint to synthesize a reagent fusing Hollow and Soul Reaper Reiatsu, it would massively amplify the Soul Reapers’ combat strength.

Of course, if that reagent ever fell into Hollow hands, they might just gain Soul Reaper powers in return. Aizen, hearing this, would nod in professional recognition.

The Hōgyoku: So... should I just see myself out?

And so, to protect his mad little project, Mayuri kept his mouth shut. On the surface, though, he made zero effort to hide his greed.

“Silence.” The old man’s cane struck the platform, and silence fell at once.

“When the first-year curriculum concludes, they will face their first Zanpakutō awakening assessment. Should he successfully awaken his Zanpakutō then, you may all compete for him in earnest.”

It was obvious, every captain in attendance already had designs on this first-year. Even he found Wayne’s combat methods remarkable. But he wouldn’t lower himself to scrapping over a recruit like the others. At his age, there was no need to hover over a sapling. In time, Wayne’s strength would earn him a shot at captaincy. And when that day came, Wayne would still be one of his own.

The captains’ conversation wound down. Below, the crowd’s cheers faded. The quarterfinals would begin tomorrow. Tonight was for rest, across all years.

Wayne left the arena, stopped by Seventh Seat Mizusue’s squad quarters to treat his injuries and replenish his Reiatsu, then headed back to the dorm.

“Tsukishiro big brother, you’re back.” Yū Nakai was waiting up, as always. After every one of Wayne’s tournament matches, Nakai stayed up to see if anything needed doing. But Wayne invariably rested a few minutes, then sank straight into soul-absorption cultivation. There wasn’t much for Nakai to do, tidy the dorm, handle chores, maybe go out for ingredients to cook Wayne something.

Tonight was no different. But before Wayne settled into his training, he noticed a letter and a bottle of soul-density-enhancing reagent on the table.

His brow furrowed. He muttered a complaint, who writes letters to a blind man? Did they lose their minds too?, then turned toward Nakai.

“Did someone come looking for me today?” He picked up the letter.

“Ah, I almost forgot.” Nakai sat up straight. “Someone in noble house attire came by the dorm today. Asked if you were here. When he found out you weren’t back yet, he left that letter and the reagent.”

“A noble?” Wayne’s expression tightened. He could already guess the contents. “I can’t read it myself. Nakai, could you read it to me?”

“Of course.” Nakai hurried over, took the letter, and opened it carefully. “Pardon my rudeness, then.”

To Lord Tsukishiro Hinamori. Greetings. I am Fuji Nishikawa, current head of the Nishikawa family. I have observed your heroic bearing and unmatched prowess upon the tournament stage in recent days, your spirit evident in every motion, a man of rare natural gifts. Yet for all your martial excellence, you hail from the Rukongai and have only just entered the academy. Beyond the top eight, all opponents are elite warriors. To press onward invites wounds both visible and hidden. Among the top eight stands a son of the Nishikawa house, by the name of Ryōsuke. His strength is transcendent. Should you face him, I fear grievous harm may befall you. Though I hold your name in esteem, I cannot bear to watch an ignorant junior engage you in mortal combat. I ask that you show magnanimity and let matters rest. As a token of apology, I offer this soul reagent. Should you be so inclined, you are welcome to visit my residence at any time. The Nishikawa family will receive you with all due courtesy.

“Tsukishiro big brother, this...” Nakai had never waded through the backstabbing waters of officialdom, but a letter this blatant, even he could read between the lines.

“...Ignore him.” Wayne frowned, then softened his tone. “Don’t worry about it. I’m heading out. Don’t wait dinner for me.” And with that, he walked out of the dorm, out of the academy, toward the tavern.

The Nishikawa family head’s meaning couldn’t have been clearer. I’ve arranged for you to be my son’s stepping stone. You’ve made it to the top eight, that’s far enough. Lose one match, and I’ll toss you a soul reagent as compensation. A Rukongai peasant should know his place. Don’t be ungrateful. Fall in line, and if you want to earn your keep at my residence someday, I’ll treat you with courtesy. Otherwise, you might run, but those peasants behind you can’t.

The letter didn’t scare Wayne. It disgusted him. Inside the Seireitei, a talent like him would be under priority protection. Killing him outright was impossible. But pulling strings in the shadows to make his family suffer? That was much harder to guard against. The Nishikawa were still a noble house, however middling. Ruining someone from the Rukongai, they had options. Wayne needed a plan.

He reached the tavern. Inside the private room, Ikkaku, Iba, and Rangiku were already waiting. They welcomed him warmly.

Wayne’s victory had netted the three of them a tidy profit, and they took turns toasting him in thanks.

“Tsukishiro, my friend.” Halfway through the drinking, Iba spoke up. He pulled a box from his carrying bag. Inside lay a single-lens visor with a distinctly punk aesthetic.

“This is...” Wayne took it, tracing its shape with his fingers. A horizontal visor, no bridge, no arms. It adhered directly over the eyes.

Ever since his eye-band had been cut, Wayne had kept his eyes shut, navigating purely by perception. Iba must have noticed.

“A small gift. Consider it thanks for the drinking money.” Iba’s voice was hearty. “You’ve always worn that eye-band, so I figured you’d rather not have people see your blindness. I don’t know if the band meant something more to you, but with this visor — 12th Division custom work — at least the trailing band won’t catch on anything and cost you a match.”

Iba always wore sunglasses. Maybe there were secrets behind those lenses. No one ever asked. No need to. Everything was in the drink.

“In that case, I’ll accept. Thank you, Iba big brother. I genuinely like this gift.” Wayne put the visor on and discovered that channeling Reiatsu into it made it adhere gently to his face. It wasn’t going anywhere. Maybe that was why Iba’s sunglasses never fell off.

12th Division craftsmanship. Quality, every time.

“Don’t get comfortable yet. I’ve got one for you too.” Ikkaku grinned wide and handed over a brand-new standard-issue katana.

“We’re just rank-and-file Gotei 13. Couldn’t get you an Asauchi. This is the best we could do, forged by the top smiths in the Seireitei. Far better steel than what you were swinging before.”

“Thank you, Ikkaku big brother. This is a massive help.” Wayne meant it. Without a new blade, his next match would’ve been brutal. Not unwinnable, but the top eight weren’t pushovers. Unarmed, against that caliber of opponent? Risky. Ikkaku was the one handing it over, but Wayne knew all three of them had pitched in. He’d remember that.

“Hee hee. Tsukishiro little brother, they’ve all brought you gifts, but me, I’m just a poor girl.” Rangiku winked at him. The motion was subtle, tricky to catch with Reiatsu perception, but Wayne caught the flicker of it.

“So this is all I’ve got.” She pulled his head close and planted a kiss on his cheek, warm with the scent of alcohol.

“Hah. This gift, I like it way too much.” Wayne laughed and didn’t pull away. Then his tone shifted. “But aside from sharing good news, there’s actually something I need you three to help me figure out.”

“Let’s hear it.” Iba took a light sip.

“The draw after the top eight, the stuff behind the scenes. Any of you heard anything?”

“You mean... the nobles?” Iba’s voice dropped.

Wayne nodded. “From what I’ve gathered, once you hit the top eight, the strings start getting pulled. And today, this showed up.” He produced the letter and the reagent. Iba and Ikkaku exchanged a look, then read the letter.

Both their faces darkened.

“Tsukishiro, my friend. What do you want to do?” The silence stretched before Iba finally spoke.

“Winning or losing, I don’t care. I’m in this for the rewards and the betting money.” Wayne laid it out plainly. “But this kind of manipulation drags my family into it. Is there a way to keep fighting normally without putting them in danger?” His mind went to Shiro-chan, still in the Rukongai, clinging to life with Granny. Shiro-chan wasn’t strong enough to weather noble retaliation. Granny’s age and health made that doubly true.

“There are ways.” Iba’s brows drew together. He leaned in close, voice low. “The 7th and 9th Divisions handle enforcement. The 7th, in particular, they guard the 1st Division. Their oversight of the nobility is strict. If this letter landed in the hands of Captain Sajin Komamura... the Nishikawa family wouldn’t enjoy the consequences.”

“But that route has its downsides.” Ikkaku picked up the thread. “A centipede doesn’t stop squirming just because you cut it. A starved camel’s still bigger than a horse. For a mid-rank noble house like the Nishikawa, one piece of paper will only make them lie low for a while. It won’t break them. And when they strike back, it’ll be worse. Unless, if you can rise fast, in months, then none of this matters. Every threat resolves itself.”

“I don’t see myself climbing that high in a few months. Even with you all backing me, I can’t go head-to-head with a noble house.”

“Mm. Then there’s another way.” Iba pressed on. “Join a noble house. Seek their protection.”

“That...” Wayne frowned, uncertain.

“It’s mostly for show. A message to the Nishikawa.” Iba folded his arms. “The hard part is choosing the right one. You need a house strong enough to intimidate them. Even if you don’t actually join — just getting word out that you’ve made contact, exchanged greetings — that alone would make the Nishikawa think twice. But pick the wrong house, and things get messier, not better.”

“The Nishikawa represent the small and mid-rank nobility. To find protection on their level or higher, you’d have to look at the great houses. The high nobility.” Ikkaku analyzed from the side. “Those people sit way up high. Winning their protection isn’t exactly simple.”

“Ara...” Rangiku Matsumoto, quiet until now, suddenly clapped her hands together. “A noble house like that, I happen to know exactly the right one.”

➤ Next: Come On In, the Water's Fine