Soul Society, West Rukongai District 1, Junrin’an.
Takashi opened his eyes.
After staring at the unfamiliar ceiling for a while, he left the bed, changed into a clean and simple yukata, and stepped out of the room.
“You’re up early, Ichigo.”
As soon as he stepped out, he saw the orange-haired boy washing up by the well in the courtyard.
“Because I hardly slept at all.”
Ichigo draped a towel over his shoulder.
Looking closely, one could see that his eyes were bloodshot.
“Then you’ve let the Elder’s kindness go to waste.”
Takashi stretched.
The sunlight falling from the sky was slightly dazzling.
He didn’t know where that sun was hanging: at the edge of the sky, in outer space, or somewhere else.
He narrowed his eyes slightly, engraving that exceptionally high and distant otherworldly sky deep into his heart.
The air he inhaled into his lungs had no industrial pollution and was full of a thick, natural scent.
Combined with the large area of primitive Japanese-style longhouses around him, it felt as if he had returned to the actual Edo period.
This was the Soul Society, the home of the dead.
Thanks to Rukia.
They were assigned to the district with the best public security.
With the help of a highly respected local elder, not only were they not ostracized as outsiders, but they were also given temporary housing for free, along with clean clothes and food.
They spent their first day in the Soul Society peacefully.
“Let me say this upfront, it’s not that I’m complaining about the poor living conditions here.”
Ichigo emphasized.
“Is it because you’re worried about failing the exam?”
“Shut up!”
Judging by this reaction, it was clear that the guess was correct.
“Don’t worry, you definitely won’t be like that guy named Hisagi Shūhei who failed twice in a row. Besides, isn’t he a big shot at the Captain level now? What an inspirational and touching story.”
Yesterday, they had gained a thorough understanding of the basic common sense of the Soul Society through the elder.
Then, having witnessed Rukia’s power earlier, a seed was planted in Ichigo’s heart, and he developed a strong interest in the profession of Shinigami.
As it happened, the current enrollment for the Spirit Arts Academy hadn’t ended yet.
He could still catch the last bus if he went to register now.
The choice was self-evident.
Shinigami had a mixed reputation in the Rukongai, but the elder was open-minded and generous.
Upon learning that they both intended to apply for the Academy, he gave them some guidance in that regard.
Among his advice, he mentioned the past failure of a certain high-ranking Lieutenant.
Takashi thought the elder’s intention was to provide a preventive warning and a little comfort for the soul.
Telling them not to give up even if they failed, and that other freshmen who passed on their first try weren’t necessarily better, and so on.
But it didn’t seem to get through to Ichigo.
“If possible, I really don’t want to wait another year or even longer… It’s not that I lack patience, it’s just…”
Ichigo’s voice grew fainter, as if he had said something, or perhaps he had fallen into silence, not knowing how to express his feelings.
His furrowed brows seemed to stay that way, never relaxing.
Takashi walked over with a towel, patted him on the shoulder, pushed him aside, and spoke while washing up.
“The Rukongai has all kinds of people. If the exam includes a political background check, it wouldn’t be strange to be filtered out. But we’re different; we’ve had a modern education, we have the aptitude, clean backgrounds, we’re law-abiding, our moral character is impeccable, and we never cause trouble. We’re practically the paragons of honest people.”
“The only thing to worry about is that honest people like us are easily bullied.”
“Cough… You’re right. If I get eliminated this time, I’ll try another way. I heard from the elder that some divisions have special recruitment channels; as long as you have a Zanpakutō and enough strength, it’s fine. But if I use a sword I picked up outside to outperform a real Shinigami, would that make people hate me?”
Ichigo quickly regained his fighting spirit.
Just as Takashi was about to speak, a line of text like ink and smoke suddenly appeared before his eyes.
〔As a great traveler, participating in the murder of the Child of Destiny and the Protagonist of the Era upon your first arrival, the Machine Soul is greatly pleased…〕
“Who? Who did you say murdered Ichigo?”
Takashi remained calm on the surface, but was inwardly furious.
Even if you’re a cheat system, you can’t judge a case like this.
Isn’t this just defaming an innocent person out of thin air?
〔Your bold performance has won the respect of the world.
You have a meeting gift waiting to be claimed.
Do you accept?〕
“…”
Accept.
〔You have obtained Fairy Tale Dragon: Blood of Cinderella.
Physical abilities have increased significantly, growth potential +1000%〕
Thump.
A strange heartbeat sounded in his chest.
It seemed no different from before.
But Takashi clearly felt an extra surge of power within his body, intertwining with the spiritual power that was already present, then merging and growing stronger.
His arm strength increased, his breathing became more powerful, and it felt as though picking up a water bucket was no different from picking up a grain of sand.
This wasn’t the athletic ability obtained by a high-concentration soul mastering its own spiritual power through training.
It was more like an innate talent.
Only a Hollow with a highly compressed soul could compare to it.
As for the growth potential +1000%.
According to Takashi’s understanding, it should mean that when doing training related to physical abilities, the growth speed would be ten times faster than before, right?
This is also a unique skill of geniuses; not only do they possess potential far beyond ordinary people, but they can also quickly realize that potential.
“Speaking of which, did I become a Dragon or a Dragonclad?”
In the Europe of this world, there exists another organization opposite to the Soul Society.
Dragons and Dragonclad are products of that side.
Although in Takashi’s memory, that dragon didn’t seem very strong.
But in this world, hybrids are always the ultimate answer.
The vast majority of Hollows, Shinigami, Quincies, and even Fullbringers aren’t that strong either.
The key lies in the fact that the essence of the power of these groups is different.
By relying on different types of power to break the limits of the soul.
To break free from the shackles imposed on life by the world, until one transcends everything and stands above all creation.
This was the path Aizen chose, and it might also be his path in the future.
“…”
Takashi bent over, cupping a towel to wash his face, his expression hidden.
When he finished washing, cool well water slid down his cheeks, a few strands of hair sticking to his wet, elegant face.
Those eyes were like mirrors polished to a brilliant shine.
Right now, there was only one thing to consider.
Get into the Academy and become a Shinigami.
“Good luck with your exams.”
“Thanks.”
After breakfast, they said goodbye to the elder and a few enthusiastic children.
Takashi and Ichigo officially stepped into the Seireitei, arriving at the entrance of the Spirit Arts Academy with the Entry Permits they were given during registration.
Looking at that antique plaque that had existed for who knows how many years, the two couldn’t help but feel a surge of emotion.
“Ichigo.”
“Huh?”
“See, I was right, wasn’t I?”
“About what?”
“Being hit by a dump truck is protagonist treatment, and then being sent to another world by a goddess.”
“I’ll give you that one for now, though that girl didn’t look like a goddess no matter how you look at it.”
“Want to hear the sequel?”
“What?”
“Obtaining powerful strength in another world, protecting the kingdom as a hero, defeating the Demon King, marrying the princess, and then a Happy End.”
“…That’s a game trope, isn’t it? I’m not some chuunibyou; I’m not interested in acting the hero, defeating Demon Kings, or marrying princesses, but as for the other parts, I don’t mind them.”
“Then let’s go. It’s time to start our campus life in another world.”
“I never thought I’d still have to go to school after dying. In a sense, this really is Hell.”
Despite his words, both of them stepped through the academy gates full of anticipation.
The confidence revealed between the lines showed they already viewed the admission letter as something already in their pockets.