The sky above Soul Society always bore an eternal pale blue hue, as though time itself flowed more slowly within this realm.
It was tranquil and beautiful, yet beneath that serenity lingered an indescribable sense of emptiness.
Inside Shin’ō Academy, the training ground of future Shinigami in Seireitei, cherry blossoms bloomed throughout the year.
Delicate pink and white petals drifted upon the breeze, falling gracefully across the bluestone courtyard.
Chigusa Rin stood quietly beneath the shaded corridor, watching his classmates sweat through another swordsmanship lesson.
As a fifth-year student, this routine had become painfully familiar.
Ever since entering Shin’ō Academy, he had spent nearly all of his time studying, researching, and training alone.
Aside from one person, he had never truly become close to anyone.
“Chigusa Rin, are you slacking off again?
It’s swordsmanship class, yet you’re hiding here?”
Without even turning around, the moment he heard that familiar voice, the indifference in his eyes faded considerably.
“Nanao…” he replied helplessly.
“You already know that no matter how much I practice swordsmanship, the outcome never changes.
Besides, I plan on joining the Fourth Division anyway.”
Ise Nanao stared at him in disbelief.
“Chigusa Rin!
The Fourth Division?
I always thought you were joking.
I didn’t know you were actually serious!”
Chigusa merely shrugged with a bitter smile.
“What other choice do I have?
Although my Kidō is excellent, my Hohō and Hakuda are only barely passable.
As for Zanjutsu…” He laughed awkwardly.
“The moment I pick up an Asauchi, I’m more dangerous to myself than to any opponent.
In the past five years, I’m probably the only student in Shin’ō Academy who’s managed to injure himself while practicing with an Asauchi.”
“Honestly, someone like me should be grateful if the Fourth Division is willing to accept me at all.”
His words were undeniably true, leaving Nanao with nothing to refute.
She simply rolled her eyes before letting out a quiet sigh.
The two had not become friends because they shared similar personalities, but because they were both considered students with glaring shortcomings.
Supporting one another had become second nature.
Nanao’s situation was different from Chigusa’s.
Her mastery of the four basic Shinigami arts, Zanjutsu, Hakuda, Hohō, and Kidō, far surpassed his.
Even her weakest subject, Zanjutsu, was nowhere near as hopeless as Chigusa’s.
In every other field, she could easily be called a genius among her peers.
Yet she possessed one fatal flaw.
For every Shinigami, the Zanpakutō is the most important weapon.
Through continuous communication with an Asauchi during Jinzen, or Sword Meditation, a Shinigami gradually imprints their soul upon it until their own unique Zanpakutō is born.
Before graduating from Shin’ō Academy, every student is expected to establish that connection.
Almost everyone could accomplish this naturally.
Everyone except Ise Nanao.
No matter how many times she attempted Jinzen, she could never sense the spirit within her Asauchi.
It was as though the connection simply did not exist.
Without that bond, she could never awaken her own Zanpakutō.
The revelation shattered the expectations placed upon the academy’s once-promising genius.
Those who had admired her talent gradually became disappointed, while others even began looking down on her despite her consistently outstanding academic performance.
That shared experience of being underestimated quickly brought her closer to Chigusa Rin, and before long, the two had become genuine friends.
In truth, Chigusa was something of a genius himself.
Even Nanao repeatedly marveled at his talent for Kidō.
His ability to cast basic spells without incantations and the improvements he constantly proposed for various Kidō techniques often left her speechless.
Naturally, those were secrets known only between the two of them.
She never understood why Chigusa deliberately concealed his true abilities.
Even while intentionally holding himself back during class, he still performed noticeably better than most of their classmates.
The reason was simple.
Chigusa Rin was a transmigrator.
In his previous life, he had been Ye Lin, an ordinary graduate student majoring in agricultural science.
During his research, repeated disasters caused by severe weather and crop pests destroyed his experiments again and again.
One stormy night, while desperately trying to save the final results of his research, a bolt of lightning descended from the sky.
When he opened his eyes again, he had become Chigusa Rin, a soul living in Rukongai.
He had watched Bleach in his previous life, although he remembered very few details of its plot.
Even so, he knew enough to understand that Soul Society hid countless dangers beneath its peaceful surface.
Among the names he remembered most clearly was Sōsuke Aizen.
Initially, he had no idea who Aizen actually was.
It was only after a substitute instructor arrived to teach one of their Kidō classes that Chigusa immediately recognized the gentle Fifth Division lieutenant from his previous life’s memories.
He simply couldn’t reconcile the refined, courteous man before him with the mastermind he vaguely remembered from the anime.
Out of respect for his memories of the original story, Chigusa instinctively kept his distance.
Perhaps that unusual behavior attracted Aizen’s attention.
After that, Aizen, as the Lieutenant of the Fifth Division, seemed to visit Shin’ō Academy far more frequently than before.
Chigusa refused to believe he was the reason behind such an anomaly.
Even so, it made him increasingly cautious.
That was precisely why he chose to hide his true abilities.
“By the way, have you ever thought about joining the Kidō Corps?
I might end up choosing that path myself.”
After repeatedly failing to communicate with her Asauchi through Jinzen, Nanao had finally accepted reality and reluctantly considered her last remaining option.
Truthfully, the Kidō Corps was far from a poor destination.
Its standards were every bit as demanding as those of the Gotei Thirteen.
While there was no strict requirement regarding a Zanpakutō, the expectations for Kidō mastery were considerably higher.
The Commander of the Kidō Corps and the Vice Commander held positions whose authority within Seireitei rivaled that of captains and lieutenants of the Gotei Thirteen.
Their primary responsibility was maintaining Seireitei’s immense barrier system while researching and developing advanced Kidō techniques.
Although extremely prestigious, such work lacked the battlefield glory most aspiring Shinigami dreamed of.
“Maybe.” Chigusa nodded thoughtfully.
“If the Fourth Division doesn’t accept me, then the Kidō Corps wouldn’t be a bad choice.”
Noticing Nanao’s discouraged expression, he quickly smiled.
“Actually, things might not be that bad.
If a captain personally recognizes your abilities, you can still be recruited directly into one of the Gotei Thirteen divisions.”
He failed to realize that the path he had just described was arguably even more difficult.
If his memories served him correctly, the name Ise Nanao definitely appeared somewhere in Bleach.
That meant there was a very high probability she would eventually become a true Shinigami.
He simply didn’t know whether she would receive a captain’s recommendation or somehow overcome her inability to awaken a Zanpakutō.
His words nevertheless rekindled a trace of hope within Nanao.
“You’re right…
There’s still time.”
“Ise Nanao!
I told you to bring Chigusa back.
Why are the two of you chatting?
Hurry up and continue training!”
The swordsmanship instructor’s stern voice echoed across the training ground.
“Yes!”
“Yes!”
This time, Chigusa had no intention of avoiding class again.
Even if his Zanjutsu showed little hope of improvement, there was no harm in learning from experienced instructors and strengthening his fundamentals.
For the rest of the lesson, he quietly practiced the academy’s basic sword forms, creating a stark contrast with the students around him who had already begun paired sparring exercises.
Fortunately, none of that bothered him.
By the time the lesson ended, sweat soaked his entire body.
The instructor’s disappointed expression made it abundantly clear that Chigusa truly possessed little talent for swordsmanship.
Fortunately, swordsmanship had never been his greatest strength.