NABC Chapter 274
Chapter 274
Chapter 274
2-in-1 chapter
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An empty courtyard was suddenly disturbed by a swift figure flashing into view.
Soifon paused, scanning left and right.
No one.
Strange… She’d tracked them all morning, yet found no trace of Kaelith or Yoruichi. She’d been
Before long, the three of them met up with Marenoshin Ōmaeda and headed straight for the Eleventh Division. As they stepped in through the main gate, a chorus of “Boss!!” rang out from the members on duty. Kaelith spoke up:
“Go get that Marechiyo kid. Tell him I’m here to check his training.”
“Right away, Boss!”
The Shinigami he addressed was all too eager to oblige, racing off toward the practice grounds. Anytime he passed a friend, he’d shout, “Don’t mind me, just running an errand for the Boss!”
Naturally, everyone he passed burned with envy, wishing they were in his shoes.
Kaelith strolled over to his familiar seat—an imposing throne draped in beast hides—and plopped down.
“Come on, everyone, sit! No need to be formal!”
Marenoshin Ōmaeda found a place to settle, feeling a bit out of his element. It was like walking into a bandit lair, not another Division. Still, soon enough, he got into the spirit. Drinks, meat, and fruit were brought out, and they relaxed around the makeshift feast.
They were enjoying themselves when someone appeared with a burst of Shunpo.
“Boss!”
A young Shinigami addressed Kaelith. He exuded confidence, head held high. But upon spotting Marenoshin’s robust figure nearby, the young man froze. Alarm flickered in his eyes.
Sensing an intense stare, Marenoshin glanced back curiously at the newcomer—a tall, healthy man in his late teens or so. His hair was styled neatly, shaved on the sides, giving a crisp and energetic look. He was built well, though from Marenoshin’s perspective, far too scrawny. At six feet tall, how could he weigh just a hundred fifty pounds?
Back home, that was practically skin and bones. He should be closer to two-fifty… three hundred would be proper.
While Marenoshin was thinking such things, the young Shinigami seemed to panic. He tried to dash away, but Kaelith extended a hand, pinning him in place from across the yard.
“Marechiyo, where do you think you’re going? Your father came all this way to see you, and you’d run off without a word?”
Trapped, the youth looked like he might cry.
“Boss, please… let me go. I can’t let my family see me like this!”
“Don’t talk nonsense. You’re far better off now than… well, than the old days,” Kaelith said with a cough.
From the conversation, Marenoshin got a strange feeling. He looked more carefully at the young man. After a few seconds, his eyes flew wide in astonishment.
Though at a glance the youth didn’t ring a bell, on closer inspection, his brows, nose, and mouth were uncannily similar to those of… the son he hadn’t seen in years—Marechiyo Ōmaeda!
Leaping up with joy, he exclaimed, “Marechiyo?!”
“…Yes, Father.”
Seeing no escape, Marechiyo lowered his head.
A laugh of relief burst from Marenoshin. He bounded over, tears welling up.
“Ha! Wonderful, just wonderful—I was afraid you might be… ahem. Well, at least you’re safe. Look at these muscles! Quite impressive—reminds me a bit of myself!
“But you’re still far too thin! You’ll wear yourself out like that!”
Tears clung to Marenoshin’s lashes as he patted Marechiyo all over. The son rolled his eyes, thinking how normal people wouldn’t call him thin at all.
When he’d first arrived in the Eleventh Division, he also saw everyone as far too slim, believing they all needed more deep-fried snacks. But over time, as he trained day in and day out, he realized a lighter body let him move more fluidly, strike more precisely. Back home, he never would have embraced such training, but here in the Eleventh, it was the culture: daily drills, constant sparring. No one could remain unaffected by that atmosphere.
Once a lazy scion, Marechiyo Ōmaeda had become a warrior who voluntarily sought out stronger foes. He found himself smiling as he recalled it. Seeing his father still looking so upset, he wanted to offer some reassurance—but wasn’t sure how.
Then a new voice broke in:
“Hey, big guy. If you’re so concerned, how about checking out your son’s progress firsthand?”
Marechiyo looked toward the speaker: the Division’s Vice-Captain, a man carrying a long sword on his shoulder—Zaraki Kenpachi.
“Vice-Captain!”
He stood ramrod straight. Over the years, Kenpachi’s aura had only grown sharper. While still not on Kaelith’s level, he was formidable in his own right.
Marenoshin glanced over too, frowning at the palpable killing intent rolling off the Vice-Captain. As a fellow Lieutenant, Marenoshin felt a near-total inability to muster fighting spirit. Who in their right mind would pick a fight with a lion?
Before he could greet Kenpachi, Marechiyo stepped forward.
“You’re right, Vice-Captain. Father, allow me to show you how much I’ve improved.”
Without giving Marenoshin a chance to respond, he faced Kenpachi.
“Vice-Captain! Marechiyo Ōmaeda respectfully requests a spar. Please give me the honor!”
“Oh?”
Kenpachi bared his teeth in a feral grin. “Sure thing.”
Sword on his shoulder, he strode toward the training grounds. Marechiyo followed without hesitation.
Only then did Marenoshin snap out of his daze. He rushed after his son, grabbing his sleeve.
“H-Hey, Marechiyo, are you insane? That guy is a monster!”
Marechiyo smiled and met his father’s gaze.
“No, Father. He’s not a monster—he’s our Eleventh Division Vice-Captain.
“Watch closely. Let me show you the result of my years here.”
He placed a hand on the hilt at his waist and walked onto the field. Facing Zaraki Kenpachi, he took a deep breath, drew his blade with a sharp clang, and called out:
“Marechiyo Ōmaeda of the Eleventh Division—please guide me!”
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