“Instructor Tony, please rein in your Spiritual Pressure.
You’re making the students uncomfortable,” Haru said softly, perfectly still as his bare fingers pinched the razor-sharp edge of Tony’s Zanpakutō.
Tony was a hot-headed brute by nature.
Fueled by sheer rage and humiliation, his immediate instinct was to crank his Reiatsu even higher.
He was half-tempted to violate academy regulations and unleash his Shikai right then and there just to salvage a shred of his dignity in front of the class.
However, to Tony’s shock, Haru simply let go a second later and swiftly leapt backward, putting distance between them.
Haru clapped his hands, instantly drawing the students’ awe-struck attention, and announced loudly, “A massive thank you to Instructor Tony for his cooperation!
The primary goal of today’s demonstration was to give you all a fundamental understanding of real combat.
Of course, we must also thank Instructor Tony for deliberately pulling his punches and retracting his Spiritual Pressure at the absolute last second.
If he hadn’t, I would have definitely lost my hand just now.”
Haru led the class by enthusiastically clapping his hands.
Sitting in the crowd, Aizen seamlessly caught the cue and started clapping as well.
Guided by their Class Representative—and heavily conditioned by Haru’s relentless culture of exaggerated praise—the rest of the students immediately followed suit, erupting into thunderous applause.
Tony stood frozen in the middle of the training grounds, thoroughly bewildered.
A fiery rage still burned in his chest, but he was completely robbed of any excuse to vent it.
Because Haru’s Reiatsu had flared and vanished in an absolute fraction of a second, only a tiny handful of exceptionally gifted students had actually perceived the clash’s true depth.
The vast majority of the class genuinely believed Instructor Tony had graciously held back to teach them a lesson.
The dismissal bell rang, and the students began to disperse.
As the crowd shuffled out, Haru spotted a familiar, tall female underclassman watching him, though he didn’t say anything to her.
Instead, he simply gestured for Aizen to follow him.
The two walked to Haru’s private office.
Once the door was firmly shut and Aizen was seated, Haru got straight to the point.
“Sōsuke, how is your progress on Kyokkō—the camouflage Kidō I taught you last time?”
Aizen didn’t hesitate.
“I have completely mastered it.”
Haru nodded, offering no extra praise, and smoothly transitioned.
“In that case, do you have any interest in accompanying your teacher on a little hunting trip?”
Aizen looked up, adjusting his glasses.
“Mr.
Shimizu, you mean…?”
“Exactly what you’re thinking,” Haru smiled.
“You know I’ve been helping the Sixth Division wipe out those despicable rebel factions recently.
I want you to join me tonight.
It’ll broaden your horizons.”
Aizen hesitated internally.
While Haru had successfully forced him to expose a fraction of his capabilities, engaging in a live-combat extermination mission against actual rebels was a different story entirely.
Given his current limits, he might be forced to go all out if things got dangerous.
If that happened, his overwhelming, monstrous strength would immediately catch the attention of the Soul Society’s upper echelon.
That completely contradicted his core philosophy of laying low and developing in the shadows.
He needed to carefully weigh whether the potential benefits were worth the massive risk.
Just as Aizen opened his mouth to politely decline, Haru gave him a cryptic smile and cut him off.
“See you tonight.”
The moonlight spilled like water—a perfect night for killing.
Dressed entirely in the form-fitting black garb of the Executive Militia with only his eyes exposed, Haru stealthily darted across the rooftops.
He and Aizen had been tailing a target for a while now.
The poor rebel had simply gone out to visit a brothel, completely unaware that he was leading a two-man execution squad right back to his secret base.
Flattened against the roof tiles, Haru was fighting a losing battle against the urge to burst out laughing.
Right next to him was Sōsuke Aizen.
The boy was also dressed head-to-toe in a sleek, black ninja outfit, complete with a face-concealing hood…
but he was still wearing his thick, square glasses over the mask.
“Ahahaha!
Sōsuke, you’re going to kill me!” Haru whispered, practically vibrating with suppressed laughter.
“Man, when are they going to invent cameras in the Soul Society?!
I’d kill for a picture of you right now!”
Aizen stared at him in deadpan silence.
‘Where are your manners, Mr.
Shimizu?’
Refusing to engage with his teacher’s mockery, Aizen pushed his glasses up his masked nose and asked, “Mr.
Shimizu, if we are currently executing a direct order from the Gotei 13, why exactly are we…”
“Why are we dressed like covert assassins?” Haru finished the thought.
Aizen nodded.
“How do I put this?
This is off the books!
A side hustle, you know?” Haru declared unapologetically.
“After all, your beloved Mr.
Shimizu is currently conducting terrifying, diabolical, and thoroughly inhumane human experiments!
How could I possibly let the Gotei 13 find out about that?”
Aizen froze completely.
He had already deduced that Haru dragging him out into the dead of night meant his teacher had some unspeakable, hidden agenda.
But he never, in his wildest dreams, expected Haru to just openly and shamelessly admit it!
In the distance, Haru watched the rebel walk up to a seemingly ordinary residential house.
The man knocked lightly in a specific rhythm, muttered a quiet phrase, and the door slowly creaked open.
“Looks like they have a passcode.
Not that it matters,” Haru whispered, before glancing over at his student.
“Hm?
Sōsuke, why are you looking at me like that?”
Aizen’s mind was in absolute turmoil.
He honestly didn’t know what kind of expression he was supposed to make right now.
Was he supposed to act like a righteous Soul Reaper and condemn Haru for violating Gotei 13 regulations?
Or was he supposed to just calmly accept his role as an accomplice to a mad scientist?
Haru went back to scanning the perimeter for hidden sentries, casually muttering, “Front door or back door?
Take your pick.”
Young Aizen, still trying to maintain his good-boy facade, stammered weakly, “B-But, Mr.
Shimizu…”
Seeing Aizen stubbornly clinging to his act, Haru sighed and played along, offering some earnest, incredibly skewed moral guidance.
“It’s not like we’re doing anything evil!
Don’t carry any psychological burdens, Sōsuke!
We are administering divine justice!
It’s one thing for these rebels to kill our patrol squads, but having the sheer audacity to go out and visit brothels?
They’ve practically begged for the sweet release of death!”
“We get to satisfy our own research needs while simultaneously eliminating a threat to the Seireitei,” Haru reasoned flawlessly.
“Honestly, if the Head Captain knew about this, he’d pin medals on our chests.”
Aizen opened his mouth, ostensibly to protest again, but Haru cut him off with a chillingly accurate observation.
“You’re dying to get your hands on some live test subjects too, aren’t you?”
Aizen’s breath hitched.
A brief flash of moral struggle crossed his eyes, but ultimately, his insatiable ambition won out.
He hardened his resolve.
Despite looking as reluctant as an innocent maiden forced into a life of crime, Aizen’s actual strikes were utterly merciless.
A fan of crimson blood sprayed across the wooden ceiling beams.
As the bisected corpse hit the floor, it revealed another rebel hiding behind it, his face twisted in sheer terror.
“W-Who…
who the hell are you people?!” The rebel scrambled backward, slipping and sliding in the growing pool of blood as he desperately tried to retreat.
Suddenly, a somewhat youthful voice chuckled softly right next to his ear.
“We are the embodiment of the night.
The vigilantes of the Seireitei.
We are the darkest nightmare lurking in your deepest sleep…” Haru whispered dramatically.
“We…
are Batman!”
With that, Haru violently wrenched his blade from the man’s Soul Chain, letting the rebel collapse lifelessly into the blood.
In perfect synchronization, both Haru and Aizen snapped their Zanpakutō to the side, cleanly flicking the blood off the steel.
“Clean this up, Sōsuke.
Tonight, your teacher is going to give you a tour of his secret base.” Haru pinched his nose and started walking toward the exit.
The stench of blood was getting too strong.
“Oh, right!
Just keep two of them alive.
My lab equipment is a bit lacking right now, so it’s a bit too shabby to handle more.”
Now fully committed to the dark side, Aizen didn’t hesitate.
He demonstrated terrifying efficiency.
In a matter of minutes, the slightly frail-looking Aizen walked out carrying two unconscious rebels over his shoulders—specimens he had meticulously hand-picked based on their Reiatsu levels and physical fortitude.
Leaning casually against the doorframe to ‘keep watch,’ Haru didn’t offer a single ounce of help.
Together, the two of them melted seamlessly back into the ink-black cover of the night.