No Cheat in Bleach ? Watch me help Aizen then.-Chapter 130: Try Fighting a Younger Me

The grand avenue stretched forth; the gates were always bustling with guests.

This was the estate of General Satō.

Standing across the street, Higashi Shuuichi narrowed his eyes at the massive compound, noting the guard towers even within the inner courtyard. Majestic. Dignified. Too perfectly staged.

And that, of course, made it all the more suspicious.

Storming in headfirst was clearly not an option. Shuuichi had no idea what lay inside—if it turned out to be a massive trap, he'd be stepping on the landmine first and leading Soul Society's investigation squad right into disaster.

No. The simpler solution was—

"Fire! Fire! Someone, help! It's spreading!"

Within minutes, several houses around the General's estate were engulfed in flames.

Even in modern times, with concrete and brick, fire could spread between buildings. In this Osaka, where most homes were still built of wood, it was near-instantaneous.

Inside the General's compound—

"General! There's a fire outside!"

A panicked servant's voice rang from the gates.

A scarred man jolted upright in bed, startling the two male attendants by his side.

"...Inugami," the man said, voice thick and deliberate.

A shadowed youth stepped from the darkened corner of the room. As he entered the lamplight, his face was revealed—delicate, refined.

Too familiar.

"Go."

The scarred man stared, somewhat entranced, at the boy's perfect side profile. If only—

As Inugami slipped through the door, regret twisted in the General's chest.

Meanwhile, hidden in the crowd of would-be firemen, Shuuichi spotted him.

Inugami.

The resemblance was uncanny.

No—he didn't just look like Shuuichi. He looked exactly like a young Higashi Shuuichi, the Shuuichi from his first days at Shinō Academy.

Two people on Earth couldn't look this similar by coincidence.

Shuuichi believed in science, not fate. This was no accident.

"Hadō #1: Shō."

Raising his hand subtly at the street corner, Shuuichi released a controlled burst of spiritual energy. The pulse fizzled out after ten meters—harmless. Undetectable to ordinary humans.

But Inugami turned anyway. His gaze landed on the silhouette Shuuichi had deliberately left visible.

"Shinigami. Intruder. Kill."

The youth's words were a whisper to himself. And then—he vanished.

Not to the eyes of the average person, of course. To them, it was as if Inugami had simply blinked out of existence.

But Shuuichi knew what it was:

Shunpo.

Boom!

A roof caved in as Inugami landed atop it. The old wood had no chance against the impact.

"Shinigami. Die."

He drew a deep green Zanpakutō, the tip aimed directly at Shuuichi. No hesitation. No chatter.

Hadō #31: Shakkahō.

A fireball surged forward—but Shuuichi casually sliced it apart with a single horizontal swing.

Impressive. Despite seeming like another clone off the same assembly line as those armored soldiers he'd fought earlier, this younger version of himself definitely inherited some of his better traits.

Like: don't waste time talking when it's time to fight.

Inugami leapt, casting a silent Tsuriboshi to anchor mid-air, followed by a rapid succession of unincanted Bakudō #30: Shitotsu Sansen and Bakudō #61: Rikujōkōrō.

Shuuichi slashed through both, but a surprise Byakurai caught his clavicle and numbed half his body.

"...You even picked up my Byakurai feint combo?"

A crooked smile crept onto Shuuichi's lips as he watched his younger self dive from the sky, blade primed for a fatal blow.

The first time he'd come up with that move had been during a sparring session with Yoruichi, back when he was desperately trying to pin down her absurd mobility.

To think... one day, he'd be caught off guard by his own move.

But unlike back then, he wasn't holding back today.

"Fuzan."

Spiritual pressure surged from within him, purging the paralysis. One diagonal strike—

No blood.

But a left arm fell to the ground.

Shuuichi hadn't killed him. Not yet.

Instead, he flicked several Reiatsu-suppressing barrier anchors across the area.

He wanted to see how far this fake him could go.

"Advance, He Who Commands Soldiers: General of Arms!"

Inugami did not disappoint. Without hesitation, he activated his Shikai.

But what puzzled Shuuichi was—why General of Arms?

Not The Strategist, not The Disillusioned, both of which were more practical in combat. "General of Arms" created Reishi soldiers, which only made sense when there were enemies to break down into materials.

Even summoning backup troops from the "Peach Blossom Realm" would've made more sense.

But then Inugami answered the question.

He spun his Zanpakutō, impaling it into his own abdomen.

And within three seconds, the entire suppression barrier was flooded with Reishi constructs.

"...What?"

Now that genuinely stunned Shuuichi.

Not even he could do that. Summoning this many Reishi soldiers in one go would cripple his stamina. Even with his regeneration, he'd be flatlined.

But Inugami? No signs of exhaustion. No drain. Nothing.

This was bad.

Multicolored light enveloped Shuuichi. Dozens of Kidō were cast at once from the Reishi soldiers, swarming in waves. For every soldier destroyed, a new one took its place.

It felt... endless.

"Strategy Rooted in War—Bankai! Blade Beneath the Smile!"

His voice cut through the storm. A cold burst of Reiatsu radiated outward.

And from within the chaos, a streak of crimson light laced with black-gray carved downward—

Inugami's body was bisected.

"Shinigami... die..." frёeωebɳovel.com

Even in death, he repeated it.

When the dust settled, Shuuichi stood over his counterpart's corpse, pensive.

It wasn't that Inugami had posed a mortal threat.

It was that Shuuichi had just seen a vision of a terrifying future.

If this younger version of himself could be mass-produced—like those armored footsoldiers from before...

Shuuichi had never imagined that his own Shikai could be this dangerous.

An infinite supply of Reishi soldiers, no cooldowns, no limitations?

He shuddered.

Sure, maybe to someone like him or Yamamoto, it was manageable. But what about the average Shinigami? Or civilians in Rukongai? Or even the Hollows?

Screw Yhwach—Shuuichi alone, with this ability replicated, could raze the entire Three Worlds.

Thankfully, it seemed the puppet master behind Inugami hadn't realized the potential.

Or—Inugami couldn't be mass-produced like the others.

If they could?

Forget probing Soul Society. Just make ten or twenty full-power Shuuichi clones and charge head-on. Aizen wouldn't stand a chance. Hell, not even Yamamoto could withstand that.

Because Yamamoto, for all his power, couldn't open Bankai indefinitely.

The Reishi soldier spam alone could grind him down.

Not that Yamamoto would dare use his Bankai in the first place.

So whatever the case, Shuuichi knew this was a line that had to be traced fast.

Because if someone with actual sociopathic tendencies—like a certain noble lunatic from the Five Great Clans—got their hands on this?

Then yeah. He'd be praying to the Soul King that ol' omniscient Big Daddy had a backup plan.

As for Shuuichi's plan?

Fall on his sword and crawl back into Hell.

Meanwhile—

Elsewhere in Osaka, at the inn where Saya, Rangiku, and the others had settled...

A fat, sweaty, bald man in a cheap yukata waddled up to the entrance, flanked by two city guards.

"You sure those three beauties are in here?" the man huffed, his eyes drooling over the busts of passing women.

"Yes, Lord Rampo! I swear! One of them's even a fiery orange-haired bombshell—exactly your taste!"

One of the guards rubbed his hands together, practically overheating at the thought of Lord Rampo "sharing" his leftovers.

"Then what the hell are we waiting for?! Get up there!" Rampo shouted, kicking the eager guard in the rear.