Help! I am bound to Aizen!-Chapter 306

Chapter 306

2-in-1 chapter:

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“Battles aren’t just about measuring strength.”

“They’re more about testing each side’s determination.

“Someone without true resolve might have power but will hesitate at critical moments, end up afraid of risking too much, and squander a winning hand.

“But those who carry real determination can seize that single narrow opportunity and turn defeat into victory!”

Aoi Seishi stood on the platform, eyes partly closed, one hand resting lightly on his Zanpakutō.

He was the most accomplished Shinigami of the Aoi Clan. Though he hadn’t joined the Gotei 13, his strength was easily on par with those “professionals.”

Unlike many who were here purely for fame, he was fighting to restore his clan’s standing. The weight on his shoulders was of an entirely different magnitude.

Facing him on the opposite side of the ring was a young man whose sly grin resembled that of a fox.

Aoi Seishi’s gaze turned icy.

“Listen, kid. Take my advice—this contest isn’t your place to meddle.”

“It will decide the next hundred, maybe even a thousand years in the Seireitei. A swordsman of your level can’t understand that.”

Beyond the platform, the referee raised his hand:

“Begin!”

Aoi Seishi continued, “Step down. If you leave now, I can—”

Before he could finish, he saw a shocking change in Ichimaru Gin’s expression.

One moment, it was that smooth, foxy smile. The next, his eyes had gone wide, bloodshot, boiling with murderous intent.

“Shoot to kill—Shinso!!”

Gin whipped out his Zanpakutō, pointing it straight at Aoi Seishi.

The latter had no chance to react. A single flash of steel tore into his chest, knocking him off his feet. Blood sprayed as he was sent flying.

Boom!!

Under the stunned gaze of the audience—who felt like they’d just “seen a Komamura” out of nowhere—Aoi Seishi was hurled from the ring and slammed into the ground, dust billowing around him.

The referee stood there speechless.

Everything had happened too fast. Even he, closest to the action, hadn’t caught it clearly.

He turned to stare at Gin—only to flinch at the horrifying aura radiating from the young man. The sheer bloodlust, the heavy resolve… He’d never seen anything like it.

Gin chuckled softly, his eyes tinted with a red gleam.

“Resolve, huh?”

“I had that the moment I stepped out of our barracks.”

“Even if I had to kill my own comrades, I wouldn’t hesitate.”

With that, he flipped his Zanpakutō once and slid it into its sheath, turning to leave.

The referee swallowed hard.

“V…victor! House Yurei’s Ichimaru Gin!”

…

Before long, another unusual figure stepped onto the stage.

Seeing his appearance, many of the nobles burst into laughter.

“What’s that, a dog?”

“You’ve got to be kidding—when did dogs get to compete for a captain’s seat?”

“You there! Are you mocking the nobility?”

Their insults elicited no visible response from Komamura Sajin.

He merely lifted his head and spoke calmly:

“I am no dog. I’m a man-wolf.”

“A man-wolf? What’s that supposed to be?”

“Go back to the mountains!”

“Get lost!”

Komamura regarded their jeers with faint nostalgia.

He recalled how, back when he first left his homeland and wandered the Rukongai, this was precisely how people treated him—either disgust or outright hostility.

If he’d never met Kaelith, who knows where he’d be now?

Maybe living alone in the mountains, or perhaps he’d have died in some brawl, unable to bear the shame.

He drew in a deep breath, then spoke in a resonant voice:

“I am Komamura Sajin, swordsman of House Yurei!”

“Anyone who has a problem with that—come say it here, on the ring!”

…!

Silence fell across the crowd.

The noble’s eyes widened in disbelief.

This big, wolfish fellow was with House Yurei?

Everyone instinctively glanced toward the row of captain’s seats, where Kaelith sat observing. Since he offered no objection, a cold jolt of realization struck them all.

Those who’d been mocking Komamura clammed right up, as though their tongues had gone numb.

Komamura waited quietly for his opponent. A moment later, a man with his face veiled in black cloth walked onto the stage.

Komamura gave a polite nod.

But the masked man said nothing in return, emanating an icy aura. Clearly, this was a swordsman raised by one of the aristocratic houses.

During the Tsunayashiro rebellion, mercenary Shinigami like these were a major headache—unregistered in the Gotei 13, with abilities that varied wildly. Meanwhile, most Gotei 13 Shinigami had their powers recorded in the Great Spirit Book Archive, so they often lost to the mercenarie’s unknown abilities.

The masked man regarded Komamura in silence.

“House Yurei: Komamura Sajin.”

“House Hashimoto: Hashimoto Yūichirō.”

“Both sides ready. Begin!”

Unlike Ichimaru Gin, Komamura didn’t immediately attack. He wasn’t the swift assassin type—he had both offense and durability, so there was no need to rush.

He studied his foe, awaiting the first move.

Suddenly, the masked Shinigami spoke:

“Komamura Sajin… Hmph, I know all about your powers.”

“Unlike you, swaggering up here unprepared, we of the Hashimoto House are famous for our intelligence-gathering.

“Your Zanpakutō is Tenken, which summons a giant phantom arm to perform flaming strikes.

“And your Bankai, Kokujō Tengen Myō’ō, calls forth a gargantuan armored warrior that mimics your actions with tremendous power.

“Keh keh keh. Impressive on a battlefield, maybe, but this is a contest ring.

“And you’re facing me—Hashimoto Yūichirō, the one called ‘Ninja.’

“If you surrender quietly, I’ll spare you out of respect for Kaelith. How about it?”

Komamura showed no reaction. He drew his Zanpakutō, voice calm:

“Enough. Please make your move.”

Hashimoto snorted.

You worthless dog—he thought—fine, then suffer.

He rushed forward, drawing a short blade.

As he ran, he unleashed its release:

“Spread forth—Nin Nin Maru!”

A flare of light transformed the katana into something more like a dagger.

Komamura tensed.

A close-range speed-type?

Wasting no time, he lifted his sword:

“Roar, Tenken!”

A massive black-armored arm materialized, gripping a huge blade and driving it down toward Hashimoto.

“Heh, I told you—worthless!”

With a sudden blur, Hashimoto split into three identical forms. Two bent low, legs crouched, while the third leaped onto their backs. The bottom two propelled the top figure upward, straight at Komamura.

Boom!!

Tenken’s giant blade slammed down, obliterating the two decoys. But from the top figure’s movements, it was clear he remained unscathed.

Komamura swung to intercept.

Despite his large frame, he wasn’t slow. After constant sparring with fighters like Kenpachi Zaraki and Ichimaru Gin, he’d learned to rely on reflex and battle instinct.

This slash looked ordinary, but it blocked every angle his opponent might use for an offensive. Anyone with sense would retreat and wait for another opening.

But Hashimoto did nothing of the sort.

His body abruptly twisted, as if every joint had dislocated at once.

So fluid it was like water, he contorted around Komamura’s sword, closing in with the dagger in hand. Beneath the black cloth, Hashimoto’s face curled into a grin.

“It’s over.”

“That’s the advantage of perfect intelligence.”

Komamura’s lack of reaction made it look like he’d frozen in fear.

Hashimoto thrust the dagger right into Komamura’s chest, near his heart—

—

Boom!!

A fiery explosion erupted from Komamura’s chest.

Before the onlooker’s stunned eyes, Hashimoto—who had seemed moments away from victory—was sent flying in a cloud of black smoke. ƒгeeweɓn૦vel.com

Thud!

He landed outside the ring, body scorched and smoking, condition unknown.

Komamura sighed, dispersing the segment of giant armor he’d temporarily used to guard his chest.

Fitted onto that part were miniature “reaction plates” Mayuri Kurotsuchi had developed at Kaelith’s request.

Hashimoto’s dagger hadn’t even reached Komamura’s flesh before setting off the explosive counter built into those plates.

Incidentally, those explosives were the same type rebel soldiers once used to ambush Kaelith during the earlier uprising—powerful enough that even Kaelith, who had already started forging his body at that point, had almost been seriously hurt. A mid-level mercenary had no chance against them.

Komamura shook his head as he looked at Hashimoto’s unmoving form.

“You were right about one thing.”

“Information truly is vital.”

“But believing you’ve learned everything when you’re missing key facts is even riskier than knowing nothing at all.

“If you ever fight again, remember that.”

He slipped his Zanpakutō back into its scabbard and walked off.

The nobles in the stands fell silent.

So both of House Yurei's competitors were monsters?

Of course, they’d heard the Eleventh Division bred beasts like no other. But still…

Kaelith! The man was infuriating.

All to expand his influence, he’d chosen to field his two fiercest subordinates—no sense of honor!

Such a person was a disgrace to noble society!

...........

..

.

Next on stage was Shiba Isshin.

He was from a branch family of the Shiba clan, once considered by some as a possible rising star. But after Shiba Kaien began proving himself again and again, people’s interest in Isshin faded.

In truth, after he started training under Aizen, Isshin had kept a low profile. Hardly anyone knew what he’d been up to.

He’d also toned down his former showy side—clearly Aizen’s influence.

Had Aizen not asked him to attend today, Isshin might still have avoided the limelight.

A muscular brute stepped into the ring, giving Isshin a polite bow.

“Even if you’re from a branch house, you’re still a Shiba, so by custom, I must salute you.”

“But don’t get cocky. I’ve honed my skills in martial arts for centuries—my power is on a whole different level from a pup like you.”

Isshin answered with a casual nod. “Right, got it.

“Yeah, Aizen-senpai really was right: The less skill someone has, the more they brag about their decades of training…”

With that line, the brute’s face contorted in rage.

“You brat!”

He bellowed, releasing his Zanpakutō into a giant-axe form and bringing it crashing down toward Isshin’s head.

Isshin’s playful grin slipped away.

Just a little taunt, and you already lost your cool?

Ridiculous.

He struck the giant axe repeatedly at its weak spots, never allowing the brute a proper follow-up.

Infuriated, the man howled at Isshin, insulting him to provoke a head-on contest of raw power or destructive force.

Isshin didn’t care.

Aizen-senpai always said that your enemy’s angry abuse is the best gift they can give.

All Isshin had to do was stall until the brute wore himself out. He had no ambition to actually win the Sixth Division seat—he’d trash a few of the noble side’s underlings, then forfeit.

While he fought, Gin stood outside the ring, stroking his chin as he studied the tournament brackets.

A few seconds later, Gin’s lips curled in amusement. It seemed he’d thought of something clever.

Still dodging the giant-axe swings, Isshin suddenly heard the fox-faced man’s singsong voice:

“Isshin, wanna know a secret?”

“This morning, Lord Kaelith told me and Komamura: whoever wins first place in this tournament gets one wish from him—no limits~”

“?”

Isshin faltered for half a beat.

He peeked out of the corner of his eye at Gin, who simply smiled and gave him a thumbs-up.

He couldn’t be positive it was true, but some instinct told him Gin wasn’t lying.

For a moment, Isshin’s mind raced.

Did he have anything he really needed Kaelith’s help with?

After a few seconds, his eyes lit up. He took a deep breath, and a fiery resolve burst into his stance.

“Burn, Engetsu!”

“—Getsuga Tenshō!!”

Lifting his Zanpakutō high, Isshin unleashed a crescent-shaped blast of searing flames.

In the brute’s startled gaze, the blazing slash took form in an instant, swallowing him in a violent eruption.

Boom!!

Flames exploded across the ring. When the smoke cleared, the axe-wielding brute lay facedown on the floor, silent and unmoving.

Isshin spun his Zanpakutō in a little flourish—an Aizen-influenced habit—then slid it back into its sheath, leaving the stage.

He chuckled to himself. If he ended up winning, maybe he could get Kaelith’s support in persuading Aizen-senpai to formally accept him as a disciple!

Just picturing that made Isshin almost too excited to stand still.

All right, then—this championship was his for the taking!

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