Fair enough, it’s not that big of a deal.
It is true that I really ought to brush up on the old Japanese writing system used here.
But that doesn’t make the situation any less humiliating.
I earned my place in Class #1 fair and square, yet I was still lumped in with illiterate riffraff and uneducated brats.
Is this the kind of treatment I earned a Master’s degree for in my past life?
Then again, aside from my three new companions and a few other commoners in our group, the nobles likely already viewed me as an unworthy savage who’d muscled his way in thanks to a massive reserve of Reiryoku.
So, it really doesn’t matter.
My skills will prove everything that needs proving.
I left the room carrying an empty bottle that needed to be thrown away.
I had my doubts about that slob Kyoraku’s sense of cleanliness, so I decided to take matters into my own hands.
Unfortunately, I was stopped when someone spotted the suspicious container I was holding.
And I had been just two steps away from my goal.
“Consuming alcohol on campus is strictly prohibited by Academy rules,” a stern female voice called out from behind me.
It didn’t sound mature enough to belong to a teacher.
That was exactly it.
The women’s red and white uniform, as opposed to my blue and white one, proved that she was also a student of the Academy.
She stood tall, her gaze confident but not arrogant.
Who was she, and why was she throwing her weight around?
“It is actually stated in the Academy rules,” I said, shrugging.
“It’s so good that I, a completely sober and obedient student, am simply throwing out someone’s trash and not breaking any rules.”
“Is that so?” She snatched the bottle from my hands, finally satisfying herself that it was empty.
“Indeed it is,” I confirmed politely.
“And even if it weren’t, what business is it of yours?”
“I suggest you drop that dismissive tone, Kaoru-san,” she replied coldly.
“As the prefect of Group One, I bear partial responsibility for the conduct of every student in it.”
“I’m so happy for you, Prefect,” I snorted ironically and finally tossed away the cursed bottle.
“If there are no complaints, may I go?”
“You’re free to go.
For now,” she narrowed her eyes.
“But I’ll remember this, and next time, you won’t get off so easily.”
She turned and walked away.
That girl certainly wasn’t a noble.
For one thing, she didn’t try to slap me after my taunts.
And secondly, no clansman would voluntarily become an errand boy for the teachers, which is, in fact, the position of prefect.
Hmm…
For some reason, I feel like I’ve seen her somewhere before.
Just a glimpse, in the background.
She has a rather distinctive look, with that streak of white running from her forehead to the back of her head through her coal-black hair.
So why can’t I place her?
Fortunately, the Information Note responded to my request and generously provided the help I needed.
Chikane Iba.
In the canon, she was known as the former Lieutenant of the Third Division.
She served under Captain Rōjūrō Ōtoribashi and treated that unmotivated young man with considerable strictness and a critical eye.
She is also the future mother of Tetsuzaemon Iba, the lieutenant and future captain of the Seventh Division.
She’s not bad at all, considering she managed to reach the rank of lieutenant on her own merits.
I’ll keep her in mind as a potential asset.
Still, what a surprise.
Wasn’t the only canonical depiction of this woman that one cover where she’s yelling at Rose?
She looked quite old there…
It’s no wonder this Chikane turned out to be a contemporary of Jushiro and Shunsui.
Though the principle behind how Shinigami age still eludes me.
You really run into all sorts of people here, a thousand years before Ichigo’s arrival.
I wonder which other familiar characters are currently walking the grounds of Seireitei?
Senjumaru Shutara, presumably, assuming she hasn’t been recruited into the Royal Guard yet.
And the mad genius Mayuri, before his confinement in the Nest of Maggots, under her supervision, though not necessarily her direct command.
Frankly speaking, the only one who worries me is Tokinada Tsunayashiro.
This cruel sociopath, who revels in the suffering of the very people he drives into the depths of despair, is inextricably linked to the world’s most pivotal tragedies.
For example, the murder of his clan-imposed wife, Tousen’s friend.
By framing her for infidelity and assaulting him, he evaded punishment for his crime.
The truth of the incident, evealed to Kaname by Tokinada himself, combined with the impossibility of exacting revenge, drove that blind man straight into Aizen’s clutches.
Or consider how he set up Jushiro by planting a tracker on the Substitute Shinigami badge issued to Kugo Ginjo.
All this to track down, kill, and harvest the Soul King’s fragments from the bodies of his fellow Fullbringers in the World of the Living.
I would like to think that he hasn’t yet discovered the ancient truth about the Soul Society’s Original Sin.
The dismemberment of the Reio by the Five Great Noble Families.
And is therefore not yet a significant threat…
But what is the point of indulging in false hope?
It is akin to sleeping in a warehouse full of flammable materials; a single spark from anywhere would be enough.
But what am I to do with him?
Even if I decided to kill him, it wouldn’t be easy.
For the Seireitei and the Central 46 in particular, the life of even such a degenerate from a branch of the Great Noble Family is infinitely more precious than the existence of some vagabond in the larval stage of a shinigami.
I’m almost certain he’s the same age as Ukitake, Kyoraku, and me.
It’s also quite possible he simply isn’t in our group, or even in Class #1.
After all, he wasn’t particularly talented…
Well, no need to rush things.
Tsunayashiro is a prominent name.
Sooner or later, I’m bound to hear something about him at the Academy.
But for now…
classes.
Otherwise, why did I enroll here in the first place?
After a night of training with Golden to keep myself in shape, I woke up just in time for breakfast.
Out of the goodness of my heart, I tried to rouse Shunsui from his slumber, but he merely mumbled something unintelligible and stubbornly burrowed deeper into his futon.
Leaving him to battle the inevitability of the morning, I headed to the cafeteria.
“Good morning.
Ready for the first day of classes and other surprises?” I asked Hachigen.
“I think so,” he nodded.
“We’ll likely start with nothing but theory for many of the subjects.
So, there shouldn’t be any major surprises, Kaoru-san.”
“Let’s hope so,” I chuckled.
A little later, Jushiro sat down with us, and we, such a motley group, finished our meals and headed off to our first lesson.
It turned out to be “History and Structure of the Soul Society,” taught by the Headmaster himself.
The Academy’s large lecture hall was packed with cadets.
No one dared to be late or chat with friends, not even the rather rumpled Kyoraku, who hadn’t bothered to attend breakfast.
Discipline maintained itself, without the slightest hint of pressure from the General’s colossal spiritual power.
Then again, everyone remembered the stunt he had pulled at the ceremony.
Yamamoto needed no introduction, especially not to the First-Year Class.
Now, in a formal setting, even Kyōraku, who had known him since childhood, would not dare call him “Old Man Yama.”
“First-years.
You must know why you have come here, who you are, and what you fight for,” his voice rang out across the hushed auditorium.
” Can you tell me who Shinigami are??”
So, our first topic is “Shinigami and how Hollows devour them”?
Interesting.
Yamamoto swept the room with a heavy gaze, and those who had already raised their hands, ready to answer, hastily lowered them.
Except for a few stubborn ones.
“Many of you know the correct answer, but I want to hear and address the common mistakes and misconceptions of those who don’t.
Taiga,” he said, calling on the frightened boy who had abruptly sprung to his feet.
“What are Shinigami?”
“Th-that is…” he stammered.
“They are souls with vast reserves of Reiryoku who wield Zanpakutō.”
“Incorrect,” Yamamoto snapped, thoroughly disconcerting the now-pale young man.
“That is a common belief, but it does not define the essence of a Shinigami.
Akihiro.”
The next student gave a similar answer, as did several who followed, though the responses gradually grew more detailed.
Affiliation with the Gotei.
Their skills and duties, ranging from sending wandering souls to reincarnation to purifying Hollows or mastery of Shikai.
And so on…
I noticed that Yamamoto was questioning mostly those without clan affiliations.
It was no surprise when my turn finally came.
“Kaoru.
What are Shinigami?” he asked, repeating the same question.
The first thing I did was stand up.
I wasn’t yet at a level where I could afford to show disrespect to a man like him.
The correct answer, it seemed, encompassed everything previously mentioned.
I could have phrased it in my own words, but I decided simply to quote the definition from the current edition of the Soul Society’s law book:
“Shinigami are those who maintain the Balance of souls among the Three Worlds, following the order established by the Central 46.”
Yamamoto paused for a moment, then acknowledged the point with a hint of reluctance.
“That is a dry, textbook definition, yet it is correct.
Sit.”
I sat down, and he continued his lecture.
“Most of you gave partially correct answers, but the essence of a Shinigami lies not merely in wielding a Zanpakuto or purifying Hollows.
Your true purpose is to maintain the Balance among the three worlds.
Without it, the Soul Society would collapse,” he paused, letting us feel the weight of our future obligations.
“The World of the Living would be overrun by wandering soul.
Same souls that would inevitably transform into Hollows and begin slaughtering the living.
Hueco Mundo would devolve into a chaotic breeding ground of destruction, spawning monstrosities still unknown.
You are the guardians of this Balance.
Your powers exist not for the sake of war, but for the sake of order.”
He paused, surveying the audience.
“Now, let’s examine the duties of a Shinigami in greater detail.
The first is Konso.
Who can tell me what that is?”
This time, a hand shot up almost instantly.
Noting this, Yamamoto nodded to the chosen student.
“Chikane Iba”—ah, so there was our new acquaintance. The source of this chapter is g.com.
“Konso is the process of sending a soul to the Soul Society,” the girl stated confidently, crossing her arms over her chest.
“A Shinigami uses the hilt of their Zanpakuto to seal the soul and guide it to where it belongs.”
“Correct.
As you ought to know, if a soul does not receive Konso in time, it risks transforming into a Hollow,” Yamamoto’s voice grew sterner as he reiterated one of the fundamental truths.
Nervous whispering could be heard nearby.
Clearly, not everyone still realized that an ordinary soul could become a threat.
“And that brings us to our second duty,” he continued.
“The purification of Hollows.
When a soul’s Chain of Fate erodes under the weight of its attachments, regrets, and fears, it becomes a Hollow.
These creatures do not remember who they once were, yet their hunger to consume other souls knows no bounds.
That is precisely why Shinigami are duty-bound to destroy them using their Zanpakuto.”
This time, the silence was far more profound.
It seemed as though several people were seriously reflecting on this for the very first time.
“Now,” Yamamoto continued, “the third aspect.
Control over the Balance of souls.”
He paced along the platform, surveying us.
“Souls arrive in the Soul Society, but they also leave it.
Those who have lived here long enough are reincarnated in the World of the Living.
This cycle must not be disrupted.
Interfering with the Balance is impermissible.
That is precisely why the execution of Shinigami duties is governed by the Central 46.
Any questions?”
For a while, no one spoke, until one of the students—the fair-haired boy named Akihiro, who had been the second to answer—raised his hand.
“Yamamoto-sensei!
If Hollows were once ordinary souls, can a Shinigami also turn into a Hollow?”
Yamamoto fixed his gaze on him.
“Under normal circumstances, no.
However, there are exceptions.”
A wary murmur rippled through the hall again, far more intensely this time.
“The first and rarest exception involves the effects of a Hollow’s unique abilities.
Throughout the history of the Soul Society, such cases have been exceedingly rare, yet they have occurred.
Unfortunately, this process is irreversible, even after the Hollow itself is destroyed.
In such a situation, it is your duty as Shinigami to immediately purify your fallen comrade.
Do not delay or hesitate—it is the only way to liberate their soul.”
The answer weighed heavily on their young minds; this, too, was something they had not expected.
“The second exception is the deliberate choice of renegades.
There are those who seek to harness the powers of Hollows,” Yamamoto said, contempt lacing his voice.
“In their madness, they distort their own souls, attempting to imitate Hollow masks or even resort to cannibalism, mimicking their thirst for consumption.
Such crimes are unforgivable.
Renegades are to be immediately destroyed.”
He slammed his staff furiously against the floor, and I involuntarily flinched.
I wasn’t the only one, though.
Who could possibly remain unmoved by the rage of the most powerful Shinigami?
Especially in my position…
No one must find out about Cobalt and the consumption of Hollows.
Moreover, no soul at all must know that, beyond that sin…
cannibalism was the reason I had gained the Absorbtion skill.
Nothing too tragic, I’ll say right away.
But back then, hunger was literally driving me mad.
It was a common state of affairs in the 80th District.
Those of us with large reserves of Reiryoku had it far worse than the powerless souls.
At least they didn’t feel the physical needs of the body.
I faced a very simple choice.
Either die, or try to consume the lingering spiritual energy of a corpse that was already fading away.
As a spiritual entity, I took the only logical step.
I attempted to absorb its spiritual particles.
And there was only one way to pull it off.
All I had to do was…
bite off a chunk of that dead loser’s forearm.
And then—ta-da!—the Hero’s Diary saved me by granting an amazing ability.
The worst part of the situation was something else.
I couldn’t vomit that meat back up.
Not at all.
It was physically impossible.
I was too hungry.
And that morsel of human flesh had already been irrevocably absorbed into me, having broken down into spiritual particles.
“That is why it is your duty not only to study the nature of Hollows but also to understand your own,” Yamamoto continued.
“A Shinigami’s power is a responsibility, not a privilege.
Those who forget this risk becoming the very beings we are sworn to destroy.”
Silence fell completely over the hall after these words.
Then, the lecture moved on to a detailed analysis of Hollow masks and the Chains of Fate, since the topic had already been raised.