The Headmaster of the Spirit Arts Academy was not some high-ranking figure in the Seireitei.
Take a certain future Headmaster, for example; he was merely a retired Third Seat of the Fifth Division.
The current Headmaster was a pragmatic Seated Officer who had retired from the First Division.
There were many Shinigami like him in the Soul Society who silently dedicated themselves but never even got a single scene.
Especially since, in the near future, he would die at the hands of the Quincy Soldat to protect his students along with most of the teachers, never having a day to shine.
But this tough old man, who upheld the Genryū spirit, never cared about such things.
He only hoped the Academy could produce more outstanding students to contribute to the great cause of protecting the Soul Society and maintaining the balance of the Three Worlds.
Therefore, at this time every year, the Headmaster personally visited the front lines of the recruitment examination to oversee the proceedings.
He did this every day until the examinations were over.
“Sigh, since Captain Hitsugaya graduated, the quality of the student pool has been getting worse year by year. How am I supposed to answer to Genryūsai-sama?”
Even though he maintained an attitude of treating all students equally.
He also knew that special talents like Kyōraku Shunsui and Ukitake Jūshirō, who possessed paired Zanpakutō, pure geniuses like Shiba Kaien and Ichimaru Gin, and super geniuses like Hitsugaya Tōshirō who appear once in a millennium, were accidental phenomena.
The current lukewarm situation was the norm.
But the Headmaster was still unsatisfied; he wasn’t unsatisfied with the students, but with the current teaching methods.
In his view, work should be like Kendō, making bold and diligent progress without slackening.
Once you stop, it means you’ve taken the wrong path or reached your limit.
With those geniuses as precedents, it was enough to prove that the current Academy’s efforts to unearth talent hadn’t reached their limit yet.
There must still be good prospects waiting to be discovered in unknown places.
The Academy should innovate its concepts, make some new changes, and bring these good prospects under its wing.
In this way, the strength of the Gotei 13 would grow visibly.
Unfortunately, despite having the courage to innovate, the Academy was ultimately one of the many institutions under the jurisdiction of the Central 46.
As the Headmaster of the Academy, he did not have the power to change the rules.
This made him feel quite helpless.
Seeing this, the elite teacher accompanying him, Ōnabara Gengorō, spoke up to comfort him:
“Headmaster, don’t lose heart. Aren’t there two freshmen with Reii Level 7 this year? And in the upper grades, there are noble elites like the heir of the Shihōin main family. Overall, it’s much stronger than before.”
“You don’t understand. This is only a temporary glory; it changes nothing. Besides, the talent from the nobility is hardly worth looking forward to. It’s expected of them to be outstanding; the Academy can’t teach them much.”
The Headmaster shook his head.
“Although those two freshmen aren’t as outstanding as those famous graduates from the past, and they have extreme imbalances in their skills, making them true problem children, I’d still choose them over the great nobles.”
“Speaking of nobles, I heard that girl from the Kuchiki Clan went to the Human World for a stationing mission?”
“It seems so.”
“She also came from the Rukongai and was in Class 2 back then. Although many people don’t think highly of her now, I trust Captain Ukitake’s judgment. She will be the best candidate to take over as Lieutenant.”
“Her? Lieutenant?”
Ōnabara couldn’t agree, but with the Kuchiki Clan as her backing, it wasn’t impossible.
However, she was destined to be no match for Abarai and the others of her year.
They were already Lieutenants.
Even those two freshmen this year, named Hachihara Kumayuru and Rindō Yū, could become high-ranking Seated Officers through sheer strength as soon as they graduated, and then set their sights on the position of Lieutenant.
No matter how you looked at it, they had more of a future than that adopted daughter of the Kuchiki Clan.
The topic involving the nobility did not continue.
In the following time, the two walked around the examination hall and saw some illiterate candidates who were filtered out because they couldn’t read or write, and their cultural literacy was too poor.
There were such candidates every year.
The Human World had only just entered the 21st century, and there were plenty of people who could not afford an education; naturally, in the Rukongai, where resources were scarce, it was perfectly normal for education to lag behind.
While the natives born from the union of souls were indeed more likely to possess spiritual aptitude, they had no inherent advantage when it came to cultural literacy.
The Spirit Arts Academy would not lower its standards because of this.
The curriculum lasted a total of six years.
In such a short time, one could not truly master the basic skills of a Shinigami.
If some of that time were diverted to set up literacy classes, it would inevitably impact the progress of combat skill courses, leading to a decline in the overall combat proficiency of graduates.
This would not be conducive to the great cause of protecting the Court.
For the sake of the Gotei 13 and personal safety, the Academy had no choice but to ruthlessly eliminate this group.
Regarding this, the Headmaster had no objections.
The entrance examination was neither difficult nor simple.
First, one had to possess a certain level of spiritual aptitude and basic cultural literacy.
These were the hard requirements.
Then the Academy scored them based on combat proficiencies such as physical ability and sensitivity to Kidō; it selected the top dozens of students from highest to lowest, admitted them into Class 1 and Class 2, and eliminated the rest.
Those who were eliminated simply lacked the skill; there was nothing to feel aggrieved about.
In a sense, not letting them pass was actually for their own good.
The same applied to the illiterate.
The Headmaster wanted to change the admission method and expand the scale, but he never considered lowering the difficulty.
On this point, he firmly stood with the sages of the Central 46.
Mentioning the changes, the Headmaster couldn’t help but exclaim: “The testing devices produced by the Technical Development Bureau are certainly more useful than the old ones.”
“As long as a person sits in the chair, all the data comes out; it solves the labor cost issue and eliminates the possibility of misjudgment.”
It could be said that it was precisely the convenience brought by scientific technology that allowed the Headmaster to see the hope of successful reform, but unfortunately, the Central 46 did not think so.
“They are good, but they are just too expensive.”
Ōnabara muttered, deeply suspecting that the Technical Development Bureau had inflated the price to gouge the Spirit Arts Academy.
“Hmm… that face, it looks a bit familiar.”
They were currently standing in the testing room, observing the examinees inside through a glass window that looked like a laboratory’s.
The Headmaster looked at the orange-haired boy and couldn’t help but stroke his chin.
Suddenly, the examiner exclaimed: “Reii Level 4?! Potential ability digitization failed, unable to evaluate?!”
The Headmaster and Ōnabara were stunned; after realizing what had happened, they looked at each other, both capturing the undisguised look of surprise in the other’s eyes.
But the surprise was not over yet.
The next examinee to enter brought even more shock to everyone present.
“Reii Level 4… potential ability digitization failed… also unable to evaluate…”
The examiner swallowed hard and looked at the Headmaster, somewhat at a loss.
At this moment, the Headmaster was also frozen in place; it took a while for him to come back to his senses, and he took a deep breath to barely calm his mind.
“Have the background checks for these two examinees been completed?”
“They have been completed. They are souls just guided to the Soul Society yesterday, currently staying in Junrin’an. They obtained their entry permits through a local elder acting as a referral, and the preparation vouchers and procedures are all in order.”
The examiner replied quickly.
“It’s good that there are no problems, that’s good…”
The Headmaster muttered to himself, looking relatively calm, but Ōnabara couldn’t help but glance at him.
How the hell was there no problem?
They were not natives from the Rukongai, nor were they from the Four Great Noble Houses.
They were merely dead human souls, yet they possessed such high concentrations of spiritual power; was this supposed to be normal?
Reii Level 5 and Level 4 were only possessed by Shinigami of Lieutenant level.
They hadn’t even obtained their Zanpakutō or touched the power of a Shinigami, yet they could already rival Lieutenant-level Shinigami; was this supposed to be normal?!
This made Abarai and the others, who struggled for decades to reach the position of Lieutenant, feel so humiliated.
Ōnabara’s mood was complicated.
On one hand, there was the heartache of seeing his proud students being outdone by mere humans.
On the other hand, he felt excited because these two freaks would definitely enter Class 1 and replace Abarai and the others as his proudest future students.
“However, Headmaster…”
At this moment, the examiner stammered, seemingly having something difficult to say.
“What is it?”
The Headmaster frowned.
“Please take a look for yourself.”
The examiner handed over a report.
The Headmaster took it to look, and Ōnabara also curiously leaned in.
“Kurosaki Ichigo… Kurosaki, a surname I haven’t heard of; it seems the familiar look was just a coincidence. Reii Level 4, overall evaluation excellent.”
“Shinomiya Takashi, Reii Level 4, overall evaluation excellent.”
“All points deducted were on Kidō talent… but compared to other freshmen, they are still far ahead. There is no such thing as a perfect genius in the world; I believe that when they become captains in the future, they will definitely be flawless.”
Wait!
The Headmaster suddenly saw a note at the bottom of Kurosaki Ichigo’s report card that read: Cultural literacy unqualified.
He couldn’t help but widen his eyes.
Ōnabara adjusted his glasses, his face also full of astonishment.
“This…”
The two looked at each other; the transition from extreme excitement to extreme depression happened in an instant.
“Isn’t it said that the Human World is very developed now…”
“Headmaster, Teacher Ōnabara, the Human World is developing too fast; there might be some small differences in grammar.”
The examiner explained tactfully.
“Then why is the other one not affected?”
“This… perhaps there is a small difference in their cultural levels.”
“Is that so? Is there a difference?”
The Headmaster asked suspiciously.
“…”
The examiner blinked, looking a bit confused.
“Ahem, Headmaster, your eyes are as sharp as torches. These two examinees are three years apart in age; the so-called difference would not exist if they were the same age. It’s like you can’t compare a teenager with an adult; the former is certainly not as experienced in life as the latter.”
Ōnabara explained seriously.
“But the Spirit Arts Academy is a place for passing on knowledge; we shouldn’t turn them away just because they lack experience; rather, it should be the other way around.”
“Besides, the mission of the Spirit Arts Academy is to cultivate Shinigami. Their Shinigami talent is unparalleled, and furthermore, these prodigies are clever and agile; this slight lag can be caught up with quickly.”
“Well said! We cannot miss out on excellent students because of stereotypes and formalism; that would violate the original intention of Genryūsai-sama in founding the Spirit Arts Academy.”
The Headmaster tucked the report into his pocket nonchalantly and instructed the examiner: “After you finalize the results, file them directly. Also, don’t mention such erroneous remarks in the future, or I will have to consider changing your position so you can reflect on it.”
“…Headmaster is wise.”
The examiner wanted to say that the report had just been taken by him, but upon hearing the latter part, his eyelids twitched immediately.
…
“Why do you know archaic Japanese!?”
In the corridor outside the Spirit Arts Academy examination hall, it is common for examinees to talk about the content of the examination and their respective performances.
And feeling frustrated when surprisingly discovering that one’s roommate is an honor student is an inevitable result.
“I am a man of culture.”
Facing the depressed Ichigo, Takashi appeared very open.
“Am I not? My grades in school were among the best.”
“But I am scheduled to become a folklorist in the future; the Archaeology Research Office of the University of Tokyo’s Faculty of Letters has already opened its doors to me.”
“…Then I have nothing to say.”
Ichigo had to admire him.
“By the way, I won’t fail because of this, right? I wrote many of the answers based on feeling.”
“Going by feeling is exactly right. Trust me, your instinct is definitely fine. If there is a problem, it is the Spirit Arts Academy’s problem; if it is their problem, let them solve it themselves.”
“I hope so. I don’t want to take the Eleventh Division route; spare me from dealing with battle maniacs. I hate fighting people the most.”
“That’s right, we are both honest people. The high-level officials of the Spirit Arts Academy are also well-versed in the way of education; holding the teaching whip, they must be of noble character and surely won’t mind opening the door of convenience appropriately.”
Takashi nodded in deep agreement.