Back home, Yoriichi Tsugikuni turned on the living room light and placed his schoolbag beside the sofa.
The room was quiet.
After his adoptive parents passed away, he was left alone in this house.
He had long been accustomed to this life, but now, with the added memories of his past life, the familiar living room felt somewhat alien.
Yoriichi walked to the window and drew the curtains.
Then, he took the katana from his waist and laid it flat on the table.
The gray scabbard was undecorated, and the tsuba (guard) was shaped like a simple, crimson sun.
Apart from that, the sword looked unremarkable.
But through the perspective of the Transparent World, the situation was completely different.
Reishi (spiritual particles) in the air were constantly approaching the blade, then being absorbed.
Once inside the sword, these particles quickly turned a faint crimson hue.
Warm, pure, and without impurities.
Yoriichi gripped the hilt.
“Kakuyō.” A soft hum.
The Zanpakutō vibrated gently, as if responding to his call.
Yoriichi remained silent for a few seconds, then slowly drew his sword.
The moment the blade left its sheath, the temperature in the room noticeably rose.
Crimson Reiatsu (spiritual pressure) coiled around the blade, but it didn’t ignite the table, nor did it harm his hand.
This power was completely under his control.
Or rather, it was always a part of his soul.
Yoriichi looked down at the blade, a strange feeling rising within him.
This sword was familiar.
Not the familiarity of seeing it today, but the familiarity of having been with him for many years, becoming a part of his body.
He could immediately unleash the most suitable strike whenever he wanted.
Yoriichi raised his right hand and touched his forehead.
There was a flame-shaped mark there.
Before today, he had always thought it was just an ordinary birthmark.
His adoptive parents had taken him to the hospital, and the examination results were normal.
But now it seemed that this thing was probably not ordinary.
A Transparent World, markings, and an almost instinctive understanding of swordsmanship.
All the talents belonging to the original Yoriichi Tsugikuni had appeared in him.
“Just how strong am I now?” Yoriichi stroked his chin, deep in thought.
This question was crucial.
The dangers of the Bleach world were numerous.
Ordinary Hollows were just the beginning; behind them were the captains of Soul Society, the Arrancar created by Aizen, and the Quincy lurking in the shadows.
If he couldn’t assess his own strength and rashly interfered with the plot, he might very well get those around him killed.
But after thinking for a long time, he still couldn’t find an answer.
Because there was no point of reference.
The Fishbone Hollow was too weak; Ichigo Kurosaki had defeated it with a single strike.
His newly awakened Zanpakutō hadn’t even been fully drawn yet, so he naturally didn’t know its true capabilities.
“In the Shin’ō Academy, what level of genius should I be considered?” Yoriichi looked at the Zanpakutō in his hand.
Having just gained the power of a Shinigami, Ichigo didn’t even know the name of his Zanpakutō initially.
Rukia, as a formal Shinigami, needed to communicate with her Zanpakutō for a long time to master its Shikai.
But Ichigo simply grasped the hilt, and the name appeared in his mind on its own.
Not only that, but his spiritual power was also overwhelmingly vast.
Yoriichi closed his eyes.
As his consciousness sank into the depths of his soul, a crimson sun appeared in the darkness.
Beneath the sun stood a blurry figure, their back to him, a sword also hanging at their waist.
The thirteen forms of Sun Breathing then appeared in his mind.
First Form: Dance.
Second Form: Clear Blue Sky.
Third Form: Raging Sun.
He didn’t need to practice any of these sword techniques.
Because his body already knew them.
Yoriichi reopened his eyes, the blade in his hand now covered in a crimson light.
It wasn’t flame, but rather the concentrated spiritual pressure of the sun.
With a single swing, this house would probably be gone.
Thinking this, he immediately withdrew his power.
Testing his strength was fine.
But using his own house to test it was somewhat disrespectful to his savings.
Yoriichi sheathed Kakuyō, but his gaze remained fixed on it.
“Knowing the name right after awakening means it should be able to achieve Shikai.” “Also, where did this Zanpakutō come from?” According to the story he’d read in his previous life, a Shinigami needs to obtain an Asauchi, and through long-term interaction, infuse their soul essence into it.
Ultimately, the Asauchi becomes a Zanpakutō unique to that Shinigami.
All Asauchi are forged by Ōetsu Nimaiya.
But he had never been to the Soul Society, nor had he ever encountered an Asauchi.
Kakuyō, however, had materialized directly from his soul upon awakening his memories.
“In the story, isn’t a Zanpakutō always obtained through an Asauchi forged by Ōetsu Nimaiya?” Yoriichi carefully examined the scabbard, then drew the sword a small section.
No matter how you look at it, this is a complete Zanpakutō.
The name, abilities, spiritual pressure, even the method of use already existed.
It didn’t need someone else to forge it, nor did it need a long gestation period.
Kakuyō was connected to his soul’s origin.
As long as he existed, this sword would not disappear.
Yoriichi thought for a while, then finally gave up searching for answers.
Since transmigration had already happened, having an extra Zanpakutō that defied common sense didn’t seem so hard to accept.
“Forget it, I won’t think about it anymore.” He placed Kakuyō back on the table and turned to go into the kitchen.
He hadn’t eaten dinner yet.
Even the strongest person gets hungry, let alone someone whose body was still fundamentally human.
Yoriichi opened the refrigerator, took out a bento box, and put it in the microwave to heat it up.
While waiting, he began to organize the subsequent plot.
Ichigo Kurosaki obtaining the power of a Shinigami was just the beginning of the story.
Next, Rukia would remain in the human world, concealing her identity while guiding Ichigo in dealing with Hollows.
News of her losing her powers would also reach Soul Society.
Before long, Byakuya Kuchiki would arrive in Karakura Town with Renji Abarai.
They would severely injure Ichigo and take Rukia back to Soul Society.
Then, Rukia would be sentenced to death.
Yoriichi leaned against the kitchen counter, his gaze gradually turning serious.
Before, when reading the manga, those were just stories on a screen.
But now, Ichigo was a friend who would sit next to him for lunch, and Rukia was a real person he had just met.
He couldn’t continue to treat everything as just a plot.
“Byakuya Kuchiki…” A captain-level Shinigami, the captain of the Sixth Division, a powerful figure who had mastered Bankai.
That was perfect for judging his strength.
But before that, he had another problem to solve.
How to explain his sudden power?
Ichigo is easy to fool; as long as he knows I mean no harm, he’ll likely stop asking.
Rukia is different; she’s a formal Shinigami of Soul Society, and she can’t possibly ignore a human suddenly possessing a Zanpakutō.
More troublesome is Kisuke Urahara.
That shady businessman in the hat, seemingly unreliable, is actually incredibly cunning.
Making elaborate lies will eventually be exposed.
In that case, it’s better to only tell part of the truth.
For example, he’s been able to see spirits since childhood, and tonight, stimulated by Ichigo’s spiritual pressure, he accidentally awakened his Zanpakutō.
As for his transmigration and past life memories, there’s no need to tell anyone.
The microwave beeped.
Yoriichi took out his bento box and sat down to eat.
After finishing dinner, he washed the lunchbox and returned to the living room.
The Kakuyō Zanpakutō lay quietly on the table, its crimson sun-shaped tsuba standing out vividly under the light.
Yoriichi reached out and touched the hilt of his Zanpakutō.
The sword instantly transformed into crimson spiritual particles, merging into his body.
The next moment, with the slightest thought, Kakuyō reappeared at his waist.
Indeed convenient.
At least he wouldn’t have to carry a controlled weapon to school.
Soon, Yoriichi finished washing up and returned to his bedroom.
He lay on his bed, staring at the dark ceiling.
The chaotic memories of his past life, which had lasted all night, finally calmed down completely with Kakuyō’s help.
He had classes tomorrow.
As for Soul Society, Aizen, and those battles yet to occur, he could only deal with them one step at a time.
Yoriichi closed his eyes.
Not long after, his breathing gradually became steady, and he slowly drifted off to sleep.