Here it is, just as promised the bonus chapter for all of you our beloved man of cultures!
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The quartet traversed the courtyard, arriving at a clearing nestled at the far end of the Genji School.
The surroundings whispered serenity, bamboo groves stretching in all directions.
At the center lay a deep pool, ringed by stone, where fish glided beneath the surface, sending ripples dancing across the water.
A bamboo shishi-odoshi tipped rhythmically, striking stone with a crisp clack-clack.
Makoto still had no clue why he'd been brought here. His gaze flicked to Chōjirō Sasakibe ahead, tinged with confusion.
Catching his look, Chōjirō merely shook his head, a silent cue to hold his tongue.
Until Yamamoto halted.
"Here will do."
Chōjirō and Genshirō flanked him on either side.
Yamamoto faced Makoto head-on.
One glance and the shrewd old master saw through the boy's bewilderment. His voice rumbled, steady and low, "I made you a promise, didn't I?"
"To take you as my disciple and guide you with full sincerity."
"In exchange for your loyalty to the Genji School."
"If you wish to back out now, I'll act as though it never happened."
Makoto's heart thudded hard.
Excitement glinted in his eyes.
"No!"
"I'd be honored."
"Please, instruct me!"
Who'd be fool enough to refuse such an offer?
If even a spar with Saitō could rocket his Hakuda to Tier 5, what heights could Yamamoto's personal tutelage unlock?
He recalled the original plot, how this old man had pulverized Wonderweiss, a captain-level Espada with nothing but his fists.
This old man's strength was absolute mastery in every facet!
And now, Yamamoto stood at the zenith of his skill and power.
"Hm."
The balding old man nodded faintly, his gaze sweeping over Makoto's wiry frame.
Abruptly, his eyes blazed with a killing intent so fierce it choked the air.
His hand shot toward Makoto's shoulder.
Pure instinct, unthinking, drove Makoto to yank his Zanpakuto free, slashing at Yamamoto's wrist.
Clink!
No surprise there.
Yamamoto pinched the blade between two fingers.
It didn't budge.
Only when the tip was caught did Makoto realize what he'd done. His body tensed.
"As expected."
Yet Yamamoto's demeanor betrayed no shock, only growing approval in his stare.
"Makoto."
"That gift you showed in your bout with Saitō, memorizing her every move and technique in a glance, it's all innate, isn't it?"
Makoto snapped to, nodding awkwardly. "Yes."
"An enviable talent indeed." Yamamoto inclined his head, releasing the blade. His fingers rubbed together behind his back with a hint of distaste, though his face remained stern.
"If that's the case, I know what to teach you."
"Put the sword down for now."
"Yes."
Makoto's focus sharpened.
"You know why, in your spar with Saitō, her speed and strength barely exceeded yours, why she even suppressed herself to match you, yet you couldn't land a single hit at the start?" Yamamoto took a cloth from Chōjirō, wiping his hands slowly as he cut straight to the core.
"Because… of a gap in experience and perception?" Makoto ventured.
Teachers always favored students who could extrapolate.
"Partially."
"But not entirely."
Yamamoto handed the cloth back, tapping his temple with a steady voice. "The crux lies here, Saitō knew what she was doing."
"You did not."
His gaze grew stern.
His tone hardened too, "Makoto, your learning aptitude is staggering. The intricacies of Hakuda and Zanjutsu unravel before your eyes effortlessly."
"But in contrast, your combat awareness is as frail and lost as an infant's."
"You surrender everything in battle to your body."
"Just like now."
"The moment I flared my killing intent, your body struck at me before your mind could catch up. You knew I wouldn't kill you, yet you couldn't rein it in."
"For most, such raw instinct is a divine gift."
"For you, it's too much."
Makoto's expression sobered, each word from the old master sinking deep into his core.
Truly, this was a monster atop Soul Society's pinnacle.
With just a couple of observations and one brief test, Yamamoto had pierced through the fragile foundation beneath Makoto's apparent strength.
Had the old man not pointed it out, how long would it have taken Makoto to see it himself?
He didn't know.
Yamamoto's voice grew ever calmer, his piercing gaze locked onto Makoto's eyes:
"Right now, your mind and your body are like two identical beings."
"In appearance, ability, strength, everything matches perfectly. So who should dictate the fight? Who becomes the one forced to follow?"
"What separates them?"
"Makoto."
The old man's questions sharpened with each breath, relentless.
By the end, his voice boomed like a temple bell, striking straight at Makoto's core.
Each word pressed him, wringing out the deepest truth within.
From the start, Makoto had felt a creeping familiarity, as if the words were unearthing buried memories. When Yamamoto reached his final query, the answer burst forth unbidden.
"It's… instinct!!!"
"…"
Abruptly, Yamamoto faltered, staring in silence, caught off guard.
It wasn't just him.
Even Chōjirō and Genshirō behind him gaped in astonishment.
They'd been mulling over their teacher's words too, yet found no thread to grasp.
Or rather, their own instincts hadn't sharpened to the point of shattering reason's chains in battle, making Makoto's predicament unimaginable to them.
Now, their gazes held only the awe and envy of mediocrity beholding a prodigy.
Impressive, Makoto-kun!
Their eyes seemed to shout.
Yamamoto lingered in silence, studying him for a long stretch.
At last, he nodded with an approving smile. "You're even more gifted than I thought."
"Well done!"
Under their stunned stares, Makoto's face stiffened, a flicker of sheepishness crossing it.
He couldn't exactly admit he'd heard this before, could he?
Thankfully, Yamamoto's lecture pressed on: "Exactly, instinct."
"Reason must harness instinct to govern the body's impulses, not be ruled by them."
"That's your task now."
Makoto swallowed hard, an uneasy edge to the motion, his tension palpable.
And who could blame him?
In the original story, Ichigo had to wrestle his inner Hollow into submission within his mindscape to master his instincts.
So what about him?
Did he have to wrestle his system into submission too?
"Yamamoto-sensei."
"The… method?"
The old man flashed a cryptic, imposing grin.
From somewhere unseen, he produced two white stone handcuffs and pressed them into Makoto's hands.
Behind him, Chōjirō and Genshirō's faces blanched at the sight. Chōjirō lurched forward to protest, only for Genshirō to yank him back with desperate force.
That alone set alarm bells screaming in Makoto's head.
This old geezer's up to no good again, isn't he?!
"Hm."
"From now on, you'll train wearing these cuffs."
"Until…"
Mid-sentence, Yamamoto flicked a hand behind him.
With no discernible Kidō, a colossal stone, ten meters tall, wide, and deep, sprang into being, dwarfing their silhouettes. Its material matched the cuffs exactly.
"…you shatter this rock with your bare hands!"
"That's when you'll be deemed passable."
Makoto swallowed hard again, his Adam's apple tracing a stark outline beneath his skin.
Just standing near the monolith flooded him with dread.
His reishi scattered like dandelion seeds in a gale, fleeing as if the stone were their natural predator.
He could sense it, if an ordinary soul or a weaker Shinigami lingered here, their spiritual body would likely start to disintegrate.
"Yamamoto-sensei."
"What… is this stone?"
Yamamoto shoved the cuffs into his hands with unyielding force, his weathered face wearing a seasoned elder's gentle smile. "Oh, it's nothing special."
"Just a few chunks of Sekkiseki I pried off the Seireitei's walls."
"Sekkiseki's merely a rare ore that nullifies reishi and reiatsu, nothing to fear."
Makoto's eyes widened in stunned disbelief.
You old bastard!
Don't downplay something that could kill me like it's nothing!
Shinigami are made of reishi!
Wearing this means I'd be in constant, full-body collapse!
Yamamoto pressed on, coaxing, "Think about it, if your body can't muster even a speck of reishi, suppressing its instincts to the limit, your reason will surely take full command."
"Right?"
"…"
"Uh, right."
Makoto's smile was uglier than a sob as he forced the words out.
Damn it!
This isn't the guidance I wanted!
***
Bonus Chapter:
100 Power Stones = 1 BC
300 Power Stones = 2 BC
500 Power Stones = 3 BC
700 Power Stones = 4 BC
1000 Power Stones = 5 BC