Bleach: The Fifth Division Captain

The technique was heavy and cumbersome but undoubtedly effective—perfect for someone who wasn't skilled in hand-to-hand combat.

Seiya exhaled softly, clearing his mind as he shifted into his stance.

Turning sideways, he positioned one foot forward and one back. Both fists were raised: his right hand extended defensively, while his left pulled back, ready to strike.

From the sidelines, Yoruichi's golden eyes gleamed with interest.

"Hey! Aizen, have you been giving this kid private lessons?"

The man in question shook his head politely.

"Not yet, Lady Yoruichi."

"Then how the hell does he know that stance?"

And it wasn't just the stance.

Yoruichi tilted her head thoughtfully, resting a finger on her cheek as she studied Seiya.

"I'm sure the last time I saw him, he didn't have this kind of presence. In just a few weeks, he's already grown this much."

If no one had been secretly teaching him, there could only be one explanation.

This kid truly was… gifted.

Aizen chuckled softly, his eyes briefly flicking to Seiya's back.

"Indeed, Lady Yoruichi. Seiya's growth is remarkable. Given time, I have no doubt he will become an extraordinary individual."

On the Platform

After a tense moment of silence, it was Ōmaeda Marechiyo who struck first.

With a loud battle cry, the towering man charged forward like a rampaging bear, his two-meter frame hurtling toward Seiya with astonishing force.

But Seiya's calm expression didn't waver. His body moved faster than his thoughts, reacting instinctively.

Pivoting, he stepped back and bent his knees, coiling his strength like a spring.

In one fluid motion, Seiya launched himself forward, slipping under Ōmaeda's extended arms and darting cleanly past his side.

"What?!"

Ōmaeda's confused shout came as he realized his opponent was no longer in front of him.

But his reaction was far too slow.

Seizing the opportunity, Seiya closed the gap and sprang onto his opponent's back, locking his arms tightly around the larger man's thick neck.

Yes, it was the same move Yoruichi had used to humiliate him.

And as soon as she saw it, Yoruichi couldn't help but laugh.

"Not bad, kid!"

Aizen turned toward her with a raised brow.

"Lady Yoruichi, what caught your eye?"

"Oh, come on, don't play dumb. The academy mostly teaches the old man's techniques, right? His traditional styles are the foundation of their curriculum."

With a playful smirk, Yoruichi raised her hand and drew circles in the air with her index finger.

"Those styles might be effective, but they're way too rigid and old-fashioned. They take forever to master, unlike simpler techniques that can be picked up quickly and still pack a punch."

Aizen pushed up his glasses, his expression calm.

"So, you're saying Seiya isn't constrained by formality. He adapts to what works best for him and applies it creatively?"

"Exactly!"

Grinning, Yoruichi leaned in and gave Aizen a playful nudge with her elbow.

"You're good at sweet-talking, aren't you? Bet you've fooled plenty of girls with that smooth mouth of yours."

"Lady Yoruichi, I'd appreciate it if you refrained from making such misleading statements…"

"Hah! You didn't deny it. You really are one of those secretly charming types, huh?"

Back on the Platform

Ōmaeda's face twisted in discomfort.

"Gah… damn it!"

With Seiya locked firmly on his back, restricting his airflow, the large man instinctively began to thrash about, trying to shake his opponent loose.

But that was a critical mistake.

Instead of dislodging Seiya, the wild movements only served to exhaust Ōmaeda further, draining what little stamina he had left.

Poor guy doesn't even understand grappling basics, Seiya thought, tightening his grip.

This wasn't flashy, but it was effective. Techniques like this, rooted in practical combat, weren't emphasized in the academy's curriculum.

Seiya's arms coiled like snakes, squeezing tighter. The veins on Ōmaeda's reddening face bulged, and his massive frame swayed unsteadily.

He's suffocating. This should be over soon.

Just then, Ōmaeda's hands shot up and latched onto Seiya's arms, gripping them tightly.

Still struggling? Admirable spirit, but completely pointless.

In his current state, Ōmaeda couldn't possibly muster enough strength to break the hold. Victory was within Seiya's grasp.

Or so he thought.

From the sidelines, Yoruichi suddenly called out.

"Hey, this is getting boring. Ōmaeda, unleash your spiritual pressure!"

Her voice was playful yet commanding, carrying the weight of authority.

"As a Shihōin, I won't allow you to lose here!"

"…Understood."

Ōmaeda's gruff voice rumbled from beneath Seiya.

Seiya froze.

Wait. He can still talk?!

Panic surged through him. If Ōmaeda could still speak clearly, that meant…

Before he could tighten his grip further, a shockwave of spiritual energy erupted from Ōmaeda's body.

Seiya's vision blurred as he felt himself being forcibly lifted.

Ōmaeda ripped Seiya off his back with startling ease, holding him aloft like a ragdoll.

"HAH!"

With a thunderous roar, the larger man spun Seiya around twice before slamming him into the ground with devastating force.

The wooden platform splintered beneath the impact, cracks spidering outward.

"Gah…"

Choking on the pain, Seiya struggled to his feet, swaying unsteadily as he spat out a mouthful of blood.

"Pfft…"