After the lesson ended, I was among the first to leave the classroom hurriedly, yet composed.
Even though no one suspected me of anything, being there all that time had been rather uncomfortable.
“Is this the kind of surprise you were talking about?” a slightly bewildered Hachigen asked as he caught up with me.
“Something like that.
Though I’m not entirely sure myself what exactly I meant,” I admitted, maintaining my persona.
“The part about the renegades took me by surprise.
I thought I’d seen plenty of madmen, but that was a first for me.”
“The depths of human madness are unfathomable, Kaoru-san, and truly terrifying,” the pink-haired young man said with a shrug.
“What shocked me most was finding human faces beneath the Hollows’ masks.”
“I’ve seen that a couple of times when Reapers arrived to deal with a breakouts.
To be honest, those huge human faces on the Hollows’ grotesque, beast-like bodies look like living nightmares,” I said, sharing my personal experience.
“That is precisely why there is an unwritten rule among the Shinigami: ‘If you aim for the mask, try to kill the Hollow in a single blow,'” interjected Kyoraku, who had approached us unnoticed.
“My brother used to talk about it, but I never took it seriously until I learned the reason.
After all, the mask is an obvious weak point for a Hollow, and damaging it inflicts excruciating agony.
It’s quite effective in combat, but as it turns out…
not exactly a pleasant sight.”
“Good morning, Kyōraku-san,” I greeted him with an ironic half-bow, and Hachi quickly repeated after me without any irony.
“Good morning, guys.
And it really is a good one, thanks to you, Kaoru-kun,” he chuckled.
“Thanks for waking me up before the Old Man’s lecture again.
Maybe having a roommate isn’t so bad after all.”
“I’m happy to help.
Just like last time, I was simply ensuring you didn’t disappoint the General-sama.
I hope there are no hard feelings between us over the incident at the Initiation?” I bowed my head slightly but didn’t lower my gaze.
If there was one thing I knew about Kyoraku, it was that he wouldn’t take offense at a little joke.
Especially one that had actually worked out in his favor.
Still, it would be good to hear him admit that he held no grudge.
Especially in public and with your own mouth.
This would help to strengthen at least some kind of camaraderie between us, even if for now it is only at the level of ordinary roommates in the eyes of the students around us.
“Oh, it’s not even worth mentioning, Kaoru-kun,” he said, waving the matter aside casually.
“The Academy is practically a second home to me.
Everyone here is used to me by now.
Besides, that didn’t even come close to my top ten greatest pranks.”
“Then I’m always happy to help, Kyoraku-san,” I replied cheerfully, having gotten what I wanted.
“I’ll be sure to bail you out before the first class on Mondays.”
It was hardly difficult, and the benefits were obvious.
Genryusai was a busy man, so he held lectures only on Mondays and exclusively for the First Class.
Which, considering his rank, was quite generous.
The next subject on our schedule was Hakuda’s course, the first practical lesson, which I was looking forward to with some interest.
I wouldn’t say I was thrilled at the prospect of getting beaten up, but I needed to thoroughly address my lack of knowledge and experience in Hakuda.
Incidentally, one of the four pillars of the Shinigami’s basic fighting style, Zankensoki.
We were gathered at one of the Academy’s training grounds.
Most of the area was covered in sports mats designed for relatively safe falls and the other joys of martial arts; even the lower sections of the walls were padded with them.
Standing proudly before us was the instructor, Kaito Kobayashi, a young man who clearly already considered himself a Master.
He was tall, with dark, tousled hair and a cocky smirk on his face.
Recalling his behavior during the exam, I barely managed to suppress a grimace.
“Welcome to the Hakuda course,” he began, sweeping his gaze lazily over us.
“Most of you think that combat is just about swinging a sword until you win.
But let me disappoint you.
Shinigami are warriors, which means you must be ready to fight in any situation.”
He paused theatrically, clearly waiting for his words to sink in.
Here we go.
Let’s just listen to this pompous speech and get on with the lesson.
“I have no doubt that there are those among you who have received comprehensive training.
However, as the exam results have shown, the majority of the self-taught students who made it into Class #1 are accustomed to nothing more than clumsy swordplay” His eyes lingered on me, and then on several other students, for a moment longer than they should have.
“Lose your blade in battle, and you’re as helpless as an infant.
A pathetic fate for a true Shinigami.” This chapter is updated first at g.com.
What did I even do to him, spit in his ramen?
For one thing, I held my own pretty well in Kido, so he can just shut his filthy trap.
And for another, who the hell is he to be so arrogant?
“The first mistake.
Hakuda isn’t a catfight,” he continued.
“Only an incompetent Shinigami thinks Hakuda is just fistfighting, good for nothing more than a back alley brawl.
It’s technique, control, and speed.
It’s the ability to turn any movement into a weapon, even if you don’t have a sword.
If you can’t fight hand-to-hand, then you’re useless without a Zanpakutō.
And then again, with a Zanpakutō, too.”
Some of the students exchanged awkward glances.
Many of them surely believed that their sole purpose was to become masters of the sword or Kido.
Kobayashi assumed a combat stance and unleashed a lightning-fast, technical flurry of strikes against an imaginary opponent.
Those who had doubts about his competence, including me, were successfully disabused of this.
There was no doubt that even fighting at full strength and without holding back any of my techniques, I was no match for him.
Just as expected.
Even though I was honing my Sword Mastery (Katana) literally every night and had nearly reached Rank D, it did absolutely nothing to help with my Hakuda.
Neither of my Zanpakutō spirits possessed such skills.
And while Rank C’s Absorption ability would have allowed me to assimilate some of a defeated opponent’s skills, that ability was currently severely restricted…
plus, my early opponents, to put it mildly, weren’t exactly masters of their craft.
If their skill level was lower than mine, I didn’t gain even a single point to my stats.
“That is what proper technique looks like,” he explained, returning to his spot.
“And that is what you should aim for.
Better yet, surpass.”
It seemed to me that he didn’t quite believe it himself, but he was obliged to say it as part of a motivational speech.
“Right, let’s begin.
The first rule of any fight is preparing your body.
If you aren’t properly warmed up, it will let you down at the most inconvenient moment during battle.”
Someone, apparently, did not fully realize that he was actually being prepared to be cannon fodder for our valiant army of balance, and groaned in displeasure.
“I’ve heard that.
And I’ve heard plenty of arguments against warming up,” he snorted.
“Sure, if a battle catches you off guard, you’re unlikely to have time to warm up.
But that’s no reason to skip it in the morning, after waking up, or during training, especially when your instructor has given the order.”
He pointed to a couple of upperclassmen standing nearby, watching our training session.
“My ‘assistants’ will demonstrate the Shino Academy warm-up routine.
Follow their lead,” he said with a rather nasty smirk.
It became abundantly clear that this was part of the punishment for our less fortunate upperclassmen.
The warm-up began with simple bends and stretches, after which we were made to do push-ups, squats, and standard strength and flexibility exercises.
Some cadets had already started grumbling but quickly fell silent under Kobayashi’s cold stare.
“Next, running laps.
You have legs, and you have to learn to use them,” he announced after the warm-up.
“Prefect, you have three minutes to get everyone lined up according to the roster.
And make sure everyone remembers who they’re standing behind.
We won’t have time to play games with this every day.
Every extra minute means an additional lap around the arena.
We’re starting with five laps.”
This drew the loudest complaints, but everyone complied one way or another and lined up on time.
Aside from Oomaeda’s portly ancestor, names like Kuchiki, Shiba, Fon, Kasumioji, and Suzunami were called out.
Judging by the lack of any particular stir surrounding them, and Kobayashi’s lack of deference toward these “Great Names” of the Five, these were members of the families’ branches.
A real motley crew had ended up here, though there was no one from the Tsunayashiro clan, nor even a stray Shihouin, among us.
Like I said, Tokinada might be in a different group.
I’d look into that later.
Just ten laps.
To a stranger, that might have seemed like a humiliatingly small number for aspiring Shinigami, but I hadn’t exaggerated the Academy’s size when I first saw it.
The training grounds were far larger than they appeared at first glance, and by the end of the fifth lap, even the most athletic among us were breathing heavily.
My Rank D stamina helped me get through it without breaking much of a sweat.
I could have managed another ten laps, but I would have been pushed to my absolute limit by the end.
And to think, I’d already done plenty of running in my life.
“From this point on, we’ll be paying special attention to your stamina.
It is an essential quality for a Shinigami, second only to spiritual power, and is required for literally every discipline.
Even Kido, don’t be surprised.”
I doubt many people had the energy left to be surprised by anything right now.
“Five minutes to catch your breath, no more,” he said, glancing at Jushiro, who looked driven to the point of collapse yet was somehow still managing to keep his blood inside his body.
Then he turned his gaze to the frankly pitiful state of some of the students,both those from the noble clans and those without clan affiliations.
In particular, Mareshige and Hachigen were sweating profusely.
Omaeda, however, was in the worst shape of all, worse even than our sickly, pale friend.
“Cancel that.
Because there are students with specific health issues, I’m giving you ten minutes.
I have no intention of demonstrating the same thing twice just because some of you are lagging behind.”
After ten minutes had passed, he lined us up in rows and told us to watch.
“Now, let’s move on to the basics,” Kobayashi said, waiting for everyone to line up in front of him.
“Hakuda encompasses several key techniques, such as dodging, grappling, blocking, and striking.
Today, we’ll start with the basic stance and proper strike execution.”
He stepped forward and assumed a combat stance.
“Keep your legs slightly bent and shift your center of gravity forward.
Hold your hands at chest level—don’t let them drop.
If you’re too rigid, you’ll lose speed.
If you’re too relaxed, you’ll lose your balance.
It’s simple.”
He gestured for us to follow suit.
The students began to copy his stance, some caught their balance, others balanced by moving their legs.
I noticed that Jushiro was holding his own quite well, despite his illness, whereas Kyoraku looked as though he wasn’t exerting himself in the slightest.
That came as no surprise.
The training a clan heir received would surely far surpass anything ordinary first-years were doing.
“Now, the strike,” Kaito continued.
“Most of you think you just need to wind up and land a blow.
But if you don’t feel your body weight, if you don’t put the power of your legs and back into the strike, then you’re just flailing your arms.”
He thrust his fist forward sharply, sending a wave of air rushing through the air.
I couldn’t manage that yet without the help of Fullbring.
“Your task is to learn to feel every movement.
Start at a slow pace and focus on technique.”
We were paired up and told to repeat the moves.
I was partnered with a student whose name I hadn’t yet learned.
We practiced the strikes slowly while Kobayashi paced the room, criticizing the clumsy ones, until, finally, he stopped right next to us.
“Kaoru,” he chuckled, clasping his hands behind his back.
I looked up, maintaining my combat stance.
“What kind of dirty tricks are you using?” His tone was mocking rather than displeased.
“You fight as if you’re trying to catch someone off guard.”
“Isn’t that a useful skill in a fight?” All in all, I’d been expecting him to give me a hard time about it.
Things couldn’t possibly be that simple.
“Against Hollows?
Or against a seasoned Shinigami?
That might come in handy when fighting other ragtag amateurs like yourself,” he retorted sharply.
“But if you try pulling a stunt like that against an opponent who actually knows technique, you’ll just leave yourself wide open and lose an arm.
Or your head.”
Some of the students were half-listening to our conversation, a few even smirked.
I’ve memorized your faces, just so you know.
“Your job isn’t to pull cheap tricks, but to strike in a way that leaves your opponent unable to retaliate,” Kobayashi continued, addressing the whole group.
“Until you shed those rat-like habits, your Hakuda will remain nothing but a pathetic parody of a martial art.”
I clenched my fist tighter, then relaxed my fingers and decided to heed the advice as I continued the sparring match.
Fortunately, I wasn’t singled out again for the rest of the lesson.
A glance at my rising hand-to-hand combat skill stats kept me from daydreaming about brutally taking down that arrogant sensei.
Okay, these lessons are still worth visiting despite the shit pouring out of his mouth.