Help! I am bound to Aizen!-Chapter 219

Chapter 219

Outside the Eleventh Division’s gates.

A few Fourth Division members approached cautiously, carrying medical kits in their hands.

From a distance, they could see two Shinigami standing guard—or rather, lounging around—by the entrance.

One of the guards sat on the ground, leaning against the gate in a slouch.

He had one knee drawn up and the other leg stretched straight out, a sprig of grass dangling from his mouth, and his Zanpakutō loosely cradled in his arms.

His uniform looked rather filthy, but he didn’t seem to care. He wore straw sandals with no tabi socks, and his muddy feet were exposed to the air.

He lazily scratched his ear, appearing utterly bored.

Suddenly, a timid voice broke the silence:

“E-Excuse us… we’re from the Fourth Division. We received a report that the Eleventh Division had some injured, so we—”

“Huh?!”

Before the speaker could finish, the other guard snapped upright, frowning as he cut him off.

“You’re from Fourth Division? What seat are you?”

The Fourth Division Shinigami blinked. “I’m the Ninth Seat, here as the lead for—”

“Ninth Seat?!”

The Eleventh Division guard roared, leaping to his feet.

He was tall, towering over the few Fourth Division members.

“Our men went to patrol Rukongai and got hurt fighting Hollows!

Meanwhile, you lot hide back here, enjoying the peace we’ve carved out with our blood.

And now you send just a Ninth Seat to treat our people? You scum think we’re not worth your respect, is that it?! Huh?!”

He shouted with such unreasonable hostility that the Fourth Division Shinigami nearly burst into tears. Huddling together, trembling, they kept apologizing profusely.

The Ninth Seat, however, merely furrowed his brow and stepped forward.

“I may only be the Ninth Seat, but I mean no disrespect to all you do.

In fact, aside from our captain and lieutenant, I’m the one most skilled at treating external injuries.

Please, let me handle this.”

At this show of calm composure, the two Eleventh Division guards exchanged a glance.

They’d already decided to pick a fight from the start—respect had nothing to do with it. Even if Fourth Division had sent a Third or Fourth Seat, they would’ve caused the same trouble.

Their aim was to express their dissatisfaction to the higher-ups.

Many of these older members of the Eleventh Division had once served under Kuruyashiki Kenpachi—a real monster, someone truly worthy of respect.

Unfortunately, Kuruyashiki Kenpachi was slain by Tsitajō Kenpachi.

They resented it, but Tsitajō was still strong, so they grudgingly accepted him.

Before long, Tsitajō Kenpachi disobeyed Central 46 and wound up in the Muken.

Five-suke took over in his stead, but although he inherited the “Kenpachi” title, he didn’t really measure up to it. The members tolerated him only because he’d once been under Captain Kuruyashiki.

Then Captain Nagaki from the former Tenth Division was parachuted into the Eleventh, and that was the final straw:

An Eleventh Division captain who wasn’t Kenpachi?

Unthinkable! A disgrace!

Though they couldn’t openly revolt, they responded by slacking and showing little cooperation. Nagaki eventually left early, partly due to old injuries, but also because of all this underlying tension.

Now, one of the Eleventh Division guards, sporting a mohawk, abruptly lifted his Zanpakutō and jabbed the sheathed blade at the Ninth Seat in front of him.

The Ninth Seat never dreamed they’d actually strike him, eyes going wide.

*Thwack!*

Suddenly, a foot came from the side, blocking the path between sheath and the Fourth Division Shinigami.

The mohawk’s blade sheath smacked into this person’s instep, but failed to budge him an inch.

“Who’s there?!”

The other Eleventh Division guard cried out—yet even as he did, he saw the sole of a straw sandal swinging straight for his face.

Boom!!

Inside the Eleventh Division courtyard, a figure crashed through the front gates in a cloud of dust, rolling across the yard before slamming violently into a building.

Several team members who’d been practicing with wooden swords all stared in astonishment.

Before they could ask what was happening, a loud shout rang out from outside:

“Someone’s here to pick a fight!

Someone’s here to pick a fight!

Eleventh Division—who’s the toughest around here?!

Never mind—come at me all at once!”

Every last member of the Eleventh within earshot flew into a rage.

Are you kidding?!

Somebody actually dared provoke the Eleventh Division? Sure, they had no captain at the moment, but they were still the Combat Division.

Whoever it was, they’d get a lesson in blood and bruises.

Outside the gates, the few Fourth Division Shinigami were dumbfounded. That young man had saved them, yet before they could thank him, he’d suddenly started baiting the entire Eleventh.

He must have a death wish!

The Ninth Seat quickly tried to intervene. “Sir, please, you should run! The Eleventh Division is in turmoil these days. Their captain is—”

He couldn’t finish. A horde of muscular Eleventh Division members had already charged out through the gateway.

“Who wants a fight?!”

“Try my wooden sword!”

“You maniac, face my blade!”

Under the Ninth Seat’s shocked gaze, the young man let out a cold laugh, then strode forward.

Seeing his face, several Eleventh Division Shinigami frowned in puzzlement.

He looked… somehow familiar. But they couldn’t quite place him.

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Before they could think further, he was already among them, moving like a launched arrow.

In an instant, the sound of bodies slamming echoed nonstop.

At the entrance to the Eleventh Division, it was as though a cauldron had boiled over. One Shinigami after another flew high into the air, then crashed to the ground. Those still pouring in only saw a swarm of their comrades in the melee, so they rushed in shouting—and were likewise sent flying, landing around the gate in a heap.

Soon, the lone newcomer blocked the Eleventh’s gates, fighting for over an hour.

Mounds of “casualties” piled up in five separate piles, each like a small hill. Moans, groans, and cries of pain joined in chorus.

As the number of combatants dwindled, someone finally got a good look at his face.

“You… you’re—!”

A Shinigami stared in shock, pointing.

He was silenced mid-sentence by the newcomer’s driving knee strike. Down he went.

Then the young man abruptly lifted his arm, signaling to the Ninth Seat of the Fourth Division who’d been watching from a distance.

Realizing what he meant, the Ninth Seat ran over. He noticed a towel wrapped around the man’s forearm.

After a moment’s hesitation, he tugged it free—and gasped, quickly averting his eyes.

Underneath that towel, a golden character glinted on the sleeve—a large “特” (read as “Toku,” meaning “Special”).

“I am Kaelith, your Special-Class Instructor!”

“Starting today, I’ll be in charge of training you worthless fools.”

“And if you want to become Pokémon Masters, get ready to fight for your lives!!”

In the middle of the crowd, Kaelith cracked a pure, guileless smile.